Fourteen Justice
FOURTEEN
Justice
Blood and torture aren’t my thing. Neither are voices that lie and scratch my skin like ribbons.
My legs are killing me. I slice the neck of the final guy standing, or rather sitting tied to a chair, in the torture room dug into the rocks.
The ocean rolls almost happily in the darkness beneath us, and I can smell the salt and spray through the copper scent around me.
I wipe the knife on the now-dead thief, making sure the obsidian and garnet accents on the hilt are clean.
Thorn likes to mete out punishment to enemies. Sometimes needs to feel his fists pounding his anger away. I do it for the job. Because it’s necessary.
I’m not mellower than my brother, not by any means. I’m just colder. I have to wonder if that’s why the virus in the garnet tried to freeze him to death and is just working to drive me insane. I’m already too cold to freeze.
Sheathing my knife, I turn and forget about the three dead gangbangers immediately. I reach the outside ledge and look down, barely seeing the spray as ocean waves smash against the rocks. Clouds mostly cover the moon, and a light rain falls.
Wynd reaches me, solid and quiet at my side. “Did they give anything up?”
“No. They were hired to take Ella but don’t know why.” They would’ve told me. I’m good at my job.
Wynd sighs. “Bodies?”
“Burn and scatter the ashes far out in the ocean like usual,” I murmur, his voice mildly brushing my skin but not causing any damage.
I wonder if Ella can fix my problem. Then I banish thoughts of her.
While she’s the enemy, her small pixie-like face doesn’t belong in my head that’s still filled with screams of pain.
“I don’t like that they had no clue who hired them. ”
“Probably Alexei,” Wynd replies, stretching his neck. “He’s still consolidating power after retaking Hologrid Hub.”
“Maybe.” But I think Alexei would’ve kidnapped Ella and not just hired a local gang.
That isn’t his style. He likes to get his hands dirty.
I’ve heard he’s busy updating the servers at Hologrid, which is a social media platform that allows users to meet in holographic form at any time and in any place.
Plus, his home compound is almost finished, and my contacts at the granite supply store tell me that Rosalie is driving him crazy with finishing touches.
The idea amuses me. “Have Rick and Jocco take care of the bodies.”
Wynd nods and doesn’t ask questions. He’s a distant cousin and understands loyalty.
I turn and stride up the rough stone steps and pause at another landing, this one with a roaring fire going, to toss in all of my clothes. Blood burns away. Trying to wash it out of fibers is a rookie mistake that ends with prison.
Then I move toward the far edge of the rock and hit a button so water cascades down over me.
A quick rinse with soap, and I’m clean. Of the most recent blood, anyway.
I grab a backpack off a ledge, take out a towel, and dry off before donning jeans and a T-shirt.
Not my usual fare, but keeping a suit wrapped in a backpack is just stupid.
I climb up more rock steps that can’t be seen from anywhere but the sky and reach my Bentley to slide inside, uncaring of the increasing rain since I have the top up.
I know my men don’t like me going at it alone and prefer for me to take a town car, but I need space.
From voices that bite. From all voices, really.
Except for Ella’s. Why hers doesn’t hurt me is a mystery, and I’d love to hear her in a second of true emotion. Real passion. That brat can probably heal with her voice if she wants.
Too bad she wants me dead.
My lips twitch, and something that might feel like amusement filters through me. I’m not sure. It’s a new sensation.
I drive too fast away from the ocean and back into the city, parking behind the Blood Garnet and going inside.
Fergus is lounging on an older sofa in the back room, a black-and-white movie on the plasma TV in front of him.
I’m not sure if he ever sleeps. But at his age, perhaps sleep isn’t something he wants to waste time doing. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He swirls an amber brew in a crystal glass, glancing up. “Your delivery came. I put it in your office.” That’s it. No questions, no concerns, because he doesn’t have any. Doesn’t worry about anything but making me more money.
It hits me that he’s more of a father to me than mine ever was. Maybe that’s why his voice doesn’t grate or cause bruises. “Thanks. Get some sleep.”
He shrugs, looking casual tonight in a Dodgers sweatshirt and matching sweats. “I’ll sleep when I’m twelve feet under.” He pauses, his dark gaze probing. “I do want to be buried. Don’t go burning me into ashes and scattering them.”
We’ve never talked about his death. “All right.”
He takes a deep gulp. “Just in case I ain’t dead. Don’t burn me.”
“I’ll make sure you’re dead if I bury you,” I offer. “But I promise. No fire.” I suppose we’ll all see plenty of fire once we’re gone.
He nods. “You and Thorn need to procreate to continue your line. You should get on that.”
I pause. He’s probably the only one of my men who’d say such a thing. Take such a risk. “That’s Thorn’s job.” Not mine. I’m the enforcer and the one to jump in front of a bullet for my brother. My mind slides to Ella and how cute her babies would be … What the fuck? I don’t care about that.
Plus, my job is probably to make sure she doesn’t have enough time in her life for babies. “Go back to your movie.” Irritated now, I stride out of the room and toward my small office, noting the box on the desk. I cut it open with my knife and look inside.
Two large, melon-size crystals lie there. One obsidian and one a light yellow citrine. Dark and light. Good and evil? Both strong and dangerous. The obsidian hums softly, and I reach out, placing my hand over it.
Power thrums through me.
I look around, but I’m alone. I shouldn’t have this connection to any stone but the garnet.
It’s not part of my family. I can’t explain it and don’t want to share it.
But I love this stone. Feel like it’s a part of me.
There’s no historical record of my lineage having a connection with any stone but garnet.
Through my father’s side. My mother’s side didn’t have any crystal knowledge. But here it is.
I stare at the pretty citrine. Yeah, if Ella’s going to do the work for me, she needs power. Plus, it’s a nice gift to keep her happy.
A happy Ella is easier to manage than a pissed-off sprite who looks like Tinker Bell but acts like the Terminator. If we lived in different times, in different places, we might’ve gotten along. Even liked each other.
This world makes us enemies, and no matter how alluring she is, I can’t forget that.
Although I meant my words. There’s an attraction between us, and she feels it, too.
We’re going to act on it. Get it out of our systems. Mine, anyway.
If I can somehow manipulate her with sex, I’ll do it.
She’s a softie sometimes, and I think that might be a way to gain her acquiescence.
Or I’m just an asshole with an ego. Well, that’s definitely true.
I should probably check that with her. She could try to take advantage, and I should be aware.
She might be adorable, but she’s a fucking genius.
Our energy exchange with crystals through our genetics, for centuries, has most certainly affected brain patterns and abilities.
I close the box and lift it, walking out of the pub without saying goodbye to Fergus.
The guy probably wants babies to play with or teach math to or something like that. I wonder why he’s never had kids.
Probably didn’t want the weakness.
Neither do I.
Thorn and I were kidnapped while young and used against our father, and he didn’t really give a shit about us.
I might have to make some new plans for Thorn’s protection soon, especially if he starts popping out little mafia dons.
Or beauties like Alana. That idea stops me cold.
Thorn now has weaknesses. At least one with Alana.
Oh, he needs to carry on our line, so it makes sense, but now he’s vulnerable in a way I hadn’t anticipated. He didn’t marry for logic.
The guy actually loves her.
Weakness.
I shake my head, load the box, and jump into my baby. The only one I’ll ever have. I drive through town, enjoying the rain, and enter my parking garage. The guards are in place. Good.
Taking the box, I ride the elevator and enter the penthouse. Something’s burning.
I turn toward the kitchen and stride inside, halting in my tracks. “What the actual fuck?”
Ella looks up, flour on her face, pots and pans and disaster all around her. “I tried to make cookies.”
Burned chunks of blobs sit on several surfaces. A light smoke still fills the air. She’s wearing one of my older T-shirts over her jeans, and it’s covered with shit. Flour, maybe part of an egg, some sugar. Her hair is a wild mess around her head.
“Why?” I ask.
She shrugs and looks around my demolished kitchen. “I was bored. You had the ingredients. I figured, why not?”
I place the box on the counter. “All right. Let’s deal with your boredom.”
“Not like you plan.” She puts both hands on her hips and turns to face me fully, irritation in her too-blue eyes. “That’s part of the kidnapping code. We are not sleeping together.”
“Who said anything about sleep?” I move toward her. “Are you forgetting the moment in the car? I think you screamed my name.”
She lifts her chin in pure defiance. “You can’t be looking for a girlfriend.”
Amusement ticks through me. “I’m not.”
Red spins into her cheekbones. “So you just want sex.”
“Yes.” I find honesty is the best move with her. “Let’s get it out of our systems.”
Does she look disappointed? No. Pissed. She draws in a breath. “Drop dead, Justice.”
That’s it. I grasp her arms. “Fine. We’ll just shower together and see how long you last. My bet? Won’t be long until you’re begging for more.”
She pushes me, hard, but now I’m pissed. I lift her just by the arms, and her legs dangle. One of her eyebrows arches.
“Don’t kick me,” I murmur. “You won’t like the result.”
She pauses. Good. I want her to take me seriously.
Something hints in the air. I pause and look toward the wall of windows beyond the breakfast nook. Rain slashes against them. But something—
A wisp through the air echoes before a flash of light. Brightness flares before a missile pierces the glass. I drop to the floor, flattening Ella beneath me on the hard tile.
Then the world explodes all around us.