5. The Hellcat
5
The Hellcat
GREYSON
The sound of my name pulled my attention back to Hart House through the hysterics of my niece and nephew. I had Mattie flung over my shoulder as she beat her defiant fists on my back and Beau tucked under my other arm like a massive football.
Alessandra looked entirely out of place in her curve-hugging black pencil skirt and heels at the border of the beach and pristine grass, looking at me like I was a dead man walking. Fitting. That’s a bit of how it felt.
Giving the kids one last snuggle, I sent them running across the sand toward my brother, who was waving a lobster tail between tongs like a summoning. I shook the water from my hair and closed the distance, enjoying how she refused to let her chin or eyes drop from where she’d lifted them to hold my gaze. Her arms crossed beneath her chest defensively.
“Can we talk?” was her curt request as she held up a towel that I accepted with some trace of amusement. She hid discomfort well, but her mask wasn’t impervious. She was always uncomfortable when I was casual.
Deciding to be a gentleman, I dried quickly before draping it around my shoulders to cover up a bit. Business mode that happened to be on the beach.
“What’d you find?” I asked, tone level.
“Not here,” she clarified.
I quirked my head. “It’s as good a place as any,” I countered.
“I called in a favor at De Luca’s for you, and we have a reservation in thirty minutes.”
Studying the harsh set of her expression, I narrowed my eyes.
De Luca’s was our family’s favorite restaurant. My mother’s cousin owned the place; it was our go-to for celebrations and funerals. Her harsh facade made this outing feel like the latter. But the firey fight in her eyes had me nodding in acquiescence.
Because the fight hid something worse that I didn’t want to be the cause of.
Fear .
The ride to the restaurant was made in a heavy, contemplative silence. Occupying the second-row captain’s chairs in the SUV, Alessandra kept her attention on the city, passing her heavily tinted window while I kept mine on her beautiful profile. I would miss this infuriating woman when she left. I would miss her sharp observations and proactive anticipation of what we needed as a department and company. She was the only assistant I never wanted to forcefully remove from my office, car, or home. I’d miss that too.
But first, we had to survive the scandal to come.
When we got to DeLuca’s , I rushed around to beat Arthur to her door, holding it open and extending a hand to help her out. Her nose was so often glued to folders, tablets, or her phone as she navigated my life like the co-pilot I hadn’t realized I needed. It was an unspoken protocol that she didn’t even notice anymore.
Greetings were exchanged with familiar staff members before we were led not to my usual booth in the back but to the private party room fit for thirty. The long tables greeted us, ominous in their empty finality as we were led to the two lone place mats at the head of one. Neither of us sat. For a moment, I contemplated her chosen location.
Private for conversation. In my family’s restaurant so the press wouldn’t be permitted back, and surveillance wasn’t a concern. But public enough that she knew she was safe.
She wasn’t just scared. She thought the information she was about to deliver was worth killing for. Or valuable enough to destroy her over. I had a sinking suspicion it might just be. But there wasn’t a country on the planet where Alessandra Rhodes would be my collateral.
The lights were left low, and a hush settled over the space when the hostess closed the sliding doors behind her. Alessandra hovered behind her chair for a beat before crossing the space and clicking play on the stereo, which stirred to life, opera filling the speakers.
When she returned, she stood behind her chair and blew out a long breath.
Motioning to the banquet table between us, I declared, “You have the floor, Ms. Rhodes.”
Never one to beat around the bush, she breathed, “Tell me what you know about Obsidian .”
The world…stopped. The fucking bravado of this brilliant, infuriating woman. There it was. I knew there was a chance but clung to hope she hadn’t dug far enough to find the information hidden inside codes within codes.
I just needed to know how much she knew. “I’m sorry. About what ?”
“Don’t play games with me, Greyson.” She leaned forward to brace herself on the wood surface, and I did the same. “You’re on their list for crucifixion, and we’re either a team or we’re not. Answer the question.”
Interesting choice of words . “Whoever this Obsidian is, why do you think I’m in their crosshairs?” I watched as recognition dawned in her eyes. I’d used the same term to explain why I didn’t want Mattie involved in my rescue.
“I won’t pretend to have information I don’t, but give me a day or two, and I’m sure I’ll find it.” That was confidence, turning those molten gray eyes to stone. She would, too. If she kept digging, she wouldn’t stop until she had her answers. It’s what I admired most about this woman. “You could expedite the process by bringing me up to speed so I can decide how to protect the company from this.”
“Tell me what you think you know,” I countered.
She gave an irritated huff before saying, “My source only recognized their code because he’s clashed with them before. He didn’t bother to tell me their alias, but nothing good can come from getting tangled in their web, Greyson.”
“What makes you think I’m tangled in this Obsidian’s web?”
“The fact that they have spyware in your network was the first clue.”
Well, that was news to me. Jax was going to lose his fucking mind.
I wasn’t tangled in Obsidian ’s web. I was the spider . They were my prey. Only, if she were correct, they’d snuck a spy past my defenses.
“The fact that they seem to be going after something with the code name Thunderstrike was the second. Communicating via shifter code inside an anagram was a little amateur, but it was buried pretty deeply.” God damn, she’d just lit a match, and she didn’t even know it. She must have seen it on my face or sensed it somehow because her own spider’s smile stretched her lips. “ Okay . What do you know about Thunderstrike ?”
She was already tangled in this. Alessandra and whomever she’d enlisted to help her had just stumbled into a war she knew nothing about. A war fought in the shadows by men who refused to stand by complacently while innocents suffered.
This would change everything. She had no clue that she’d just changed the trajectory of her future. I didn’t have a clue how to keep it from touching her. Slowly, tracking the way her throat bobbed, I rounded the table. Answering honestly, I said, “Classified.”
“You’re a civilian again,” she pointed out, rotating her back to the wood so she could keep me in front of her as I closed the distance.
Flashing a roguish grin, I said, “To your knowledge.”
“Medically discharged,” she argued.
Narrowing my eyes, I barked, “Did you run a dossier?”
“I have good friends,” she simply supplied, lifting her chin to glare at me as I towered over her.
“Max.”
“For starters.”
For what felt like an eternity, we just stared each other down. Her chin jutted out in defiance as I caged her against the table with my body, a hand braced on either side of her. She always smelled like those chai drinks she brought on Fridays. It was infuriatingly sweet. My proximity had me setting my jaw while I stared down at her. It didn’t seem to distract or intimidate her in the slightest, anyway. Some distant part of my mind dragged up the fact that she had six brothers and was near the tail end of the lineup. Fishermen, construction workers, football players. This girl would be tough as nails.
Figures . Keeping my tone level, I warned, “Don’t go digging for answers you’re not ready to find.”
“Stop assuming you know what I’m capable of accomplishing.”
Voice low, I asked, “Who replaced my demure little princess with a hellcat?”
“ What ?!” She burst out laughing, and I relaxed at the sound. Relieved I’d dissolved a bit of that concrete wall, I sighed and turned to pace, slowly making my way to the other side of the table before palming my face.
“What a mess.”
“You supposed to kill me now or something?”
Insulted, I glared over at her. “I’m not a hitman.”
“Max knows where I am and is waiting for my call.”
“ I am not a hitman ,” I snarled, irritated that she thought so damn little of me.
She shrugged unapologetically. “ Thunderstrike. Obsidian. Blackwater . There’s a vibe about it.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “How deep did you get?”
“Not much farther.”
“Still too far. How did you get that far?”
“There are many things you don’t bother to learn about the people you view as beneath you.”
Clenching my jaw, I lifted my head to study her. There wasn’t a trace of apology across her face. “You think that’s how I see you?”
“You think you’ve given me a single sign it’s not?”
Fuck. “I deserve that.”
A wry smile curved her wide mouth, mischief sparking in her eyes. “I can keep going if you want the full tally.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I already felt like a sack of shit. But even these last twelve hours of unhinged Alessandra had me loathing the two years of wasted frustration where camaraderie should have been if she wasn’t so damnably tempting.
“Maybe I wouldn’t feel like quitting if I’d found my voice sooner,” she mused, humor tilting those pillowy lips.
“What changed?”
“I quit,” she supplied, “and found out I dedicated ninety hours a week to being your beverage girl.”
“It’s like you ran out of propriety with no notice.”
“It hadn’t gotten me where I needed, so I’ll try not giving a shit instead.”
Chuckling darkly, I shook my head. “I appreciate you digging, Alessandra, but you have to stop. You already went too far.”
“Look. I’m not going to pretend to know anything more than I do. But this isn't good, Greyson. Whatever you’ve tied yourself to with these dark web groups,” she shook her head. “Max is better than most government trolls, but?—”
“Then why doesn’t he work for them?”
Her brows winged up as shock softened her eyes. “Not all men can swear fealty to a government we all know is corrupt—to leaders that can change at the drop of a hat. Max isn’t one to kneel to anyone who hasn’t earned it, and even then, it would be a cold day in hell.”
“So, he risks prison time to do it freelance?”
“Define prison. Being indentured to a government you may or may not believe in doesn’t sound all that different.”
She had a point. “If you care for him, you’ll tell him to stop looking.”
“Even if he does, if this allegation draws government attention, the feds won’t.”
“I know,” I breathed, watching her for any hint at what was going on inside that mind of hers. “Luckily for me, my assistant is a wizard at spinning the media to eat out of her invisible palm.”
She smiled softly, evidently accepting the compliment. “You better pray— for Mattie and Beau’s sake —I can come up with something more tempting than the fall of America’s prince.”
Her words emblazoned themselves into the flesh of my mind. Although I was no threat to her, she was too bright to allow me to give her a ride home. Insisting her big brothers would throttle her for even considering it—not that I expected her to run and tell them anything. I believed her when she said she’d keep our conversation between us and Max.
Her diligence elicited a warmth—like pride—in my chest. Even if it were misplaced, I’d have to meet these brothers of hers someday. I didn’t have a sister, though I supposed the closest thing was our cousin, Emmaline. But I could only hope to train her and Mattie just as thoroughly to look out for themselves.
This Max of hers had arranged for a driver to pick her up from De Luca’s . I’d have to do some digging and see if I could get a full name, although if he was smart enough to hack through government-fortified defenses, prospects of his legal name being easily located weren’t encouraging.
Arthur was waiting at the curb when I stepped out of the restaurant, and I called Jax to bring him up to speed once I was safely tucked in the back. But I couldn’t slow down and process until I was home, alone on the back terrace overlooking the ocean.
If Obsidian knew who was funding our mission, it would only have been a matter of time before they came after our mercenaries. Worse yet, what we did—while known—wasn’t strictly speaking… above board . The United States government might use us like any tool in their belt, but should attention turn our way, we would receive no aid from them. It was our hides on the line if the law came knocking. We were disposable. I had no intention of being the next Wagner Group executed by an enemy militia because our government couldn’t acknowledge our existence.
If Alessandra and Max left a single trace that they knew more than they should…they’d just become throwaways, too. She’d either be ruined or have to testify against me.
A chirped notification had me pulling my phone from my pocket where I stood on my balcony, hoping the crash of the Pacific held answers my office didn’t.
Despite her well-thought-out location, someone managed to snap a photo of me leading Alessandra out of the banquet room through the front window. The article was yet another story speculating about a secret love affair. The vipers had been using our consistent appearances together to spur on rumors for the better portion of her twenty-one months with me. She’d never so much as wasted a breath dispelling the tale, treating the paparazzi like gnats—irritating, but not worth her time.
Kind of… kind of like a Hart .
I straightened from my place against the railing, pacing before making my way to the stairs and down onto the beach, where I stripped to my boxers in the concealment of night and dove into the ocean. Nothing cleared my head quite like salt and sea. Only, instead of the soothing rush of the pulsing ocean, my ears replayed the last twelve hours.
Reporters ambushed me on my way in today to ask if I wanted to make a statement regarding the embezzlement allegations leveled against you.
Somebody is trying to crucify you, Grey.
Tell me what you know about Obsidian.
Even if he does, if this allegation draws government attention, the feds won’t.
Y ou better pray I can come up with something more tempting than the fall of America’s prince.
The only thing that could make a splash big enough to swallow that would be a royal wedding…
The last time you were seen with a woman other than your cousin was before your father died…
Gasping for breath, I hauled myself from the surf because no matter how hard I swam along the shore, the mess just swirled behind my eyelids.
Dried and dressed, I snatched my phone and read the rest of the article, which included prior images of us in Paris and Rome and an extensive list of the galas I’d paid her to attend beside me. Of course, according to the article, she was there as a romantic plus one, not an obligatory one.
You’re born either loving or hating the media when you grow up in the limelight. I was the latter. I loved my privacy. I wanted nothing to do with status or show. Which left them to speculate however they wanted to about whomever was in your life. If you decide not to humor the vampires of society with endless interviews, you learned better than to go poking around the fairytales and accusations they weave around your name like invasive vines destined to suffocate the truth with their imagined reality.
But when I finished the article, a psychotic idea struck. One I would inevitably regret, but it might hold merit. Curious to see if I had a leg to stand on, I did the one thing I promised never to do.
I googled myself.
“Do you still have the paparazzi images of us in Barcelona? The one at the theater festival?”
“Make yourself at home,” Alessandra scoffed, gaping as I stormed past her into her sleek condo about two hours later.
“We were drinking wine,” I snapped my fingers, attempting to draw the details out of my memory bank. For this to work, it would have to be as convincing as unhinged. “It was the trip you met my golf buddy, Ashcroft, and his wife on.”
When I whirled to face her, she glared at me with equal parts confusion and irritation. Was that… insult in her parted lips? “I remember the theater festival, Greyson,” she patronized with an endearing level of condescension. “They named the damn amphitheater after you, and I helped you cut the ribbon .” She enunciated every word like I was an invalid.
“Good. Right,” I nodded, turning to pace as she reluctantly closed her front door. She wore loose plaid boxer-style shorts and an oversized Guns N’ Roses T-shirt with the neckline cut into a V that left it hanging off her shoulder in an obnoxious temptation. The woman had the most decadent golden skin I’d ever encountered. Forcing myself to focus on the insanity unfolding in my mind, I asked, “But do you have the images in your delightfully anal little archives?”
“They are not anal. They’re efficient ,” she bit out before knocking back her red wine and following me to her kitchen island. “And you know I catalog everything. Why?”
Nodding, I blew out a heavy breath. Why’d the old prick have to suggest a royal wedding, of all things? And why the hell did the ploy have merit?
I studied Alessandra as she glared back at me, still awaiting answers I couldn’t give.She self-consciously pulled the t-shirt back over her shoulder after setting the glass on her waterfall marble counter.
“You know, Greyson, this is exactly why I quit,” she snarled.
“Because I think your systems are anal?”
“Because you think it’s acceptable to burst into my home with obscure questions about an event we attended sixteen months ago, at ten-forty-five on a Monday night when I work at eight tomorrow. You could have just sent me a text.”
“Trust me when I tell you I couldn’t send this over any form of unsecured communication. And time is of the essence.” Finally forcing myself to stop the incessant pacing, I turned to study this woman who’d worked her tempting little ass off for me for two years straight. She glared at me with the skepticism my late-night outburst no doubt deserved.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Because I have four people on the planet I actually trust,” I admitted candidly before shrugging. “ Three , if minors are eliminated.”
“Okay…?”
“You’re one of them.”
For the first time since I came into her space, she looked…surprised. Her gray-blue eyes rounded and then narrowed like she was waiting for a punch line as she lowered onto the bar stool across from me.
“I had plans for you, Ms. Rhodes—plans you ruined submitting your notice. I appreciate your diligence in protecting Mattie, but you have interests at stake you know nothing about. This means at some point, once your loyalty was undeniable, you would have gotten answers to every question, which I’m sure is now planted in your irritatingly sharp mind.”
“And now?”
“ Now you’ve unintentionally implicated yourself, and I need to… adjust some things to ensure you’re safe.”
“And this plays into the allegations?” An ordinary woman would’ve run screaming from the room, but not Alessandra. No, she was still curt and to the point.
“It does now.”
“You’re infuriatingly vague, do you know that?”
“Yes,” I answered. Honestly . The air conditioner kicked on with a whoosh and a hum as I added, “And my uncle is right.”
“About not talking to the help ?” she asked venomously.
“About the PR mess.” When she didn’t respond, we just studied each other. Some kind of muted kitchen standoff in negotiations that had yet to begin. “About needing something dramatic to keep their focus where we want it.”
Uncle Reggie had been right about a few things but wrong about another. Pursing my lips as my mind attempted to maneuver pieces on the board, I finally swallowed my pride and locked eyes on the only non-relative woman the press had seen me with in years. The woman they’d been begging to get an inside scoop on.
Laughing at the insanity of it all, I smiled back at her. “Marry me, Alessandra?”