Chapter Two
Present Day…
“How may I be of assistance?” Onyx closed her eyes and clenched the phone tight, letting the deep voice wash over her. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear it. The past week had been a nightmare.
“We need to meet in person.” It was time. Past it, really, but she’d been a coward, putting off the inevitable until there was no longer a choice. Their contact in Romania had shaken her to the core, but time had run out.
Events had unfolded faster than anticipated. Both the white and gray wolves, and the women attached to them, had faced Solange and her werewolf partner-in-crime, Charles Armstrong. Details were scarce but there’d been two unexplained explosions in New York. When scouting them, she’d sensed massive amounts of magic, some familiar, some not. The unknown magic was wild and untamed. She speculated it had come from the lone wolves.
“Where the hell have you been?” She flinched at the quiet anger in his tone. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Your old number is no longer in service and I haven’t been able to track down your new one.” It was a game they’d played since she’d first made herself known to him. Except for Romania, they’d maintained distant contact, each able to reach the other. Not that they’d used it, except on a rare occasion, but the tenuous connection had existed.
She clenched her phone tighter, determined to get through the conversation calmly and rationally. “I had to go underground after I helped the gray wolf.” Until then, she’d done her best to fly under the radar. Mostly, she’d succeeded. Using her magic against Solange had placed a target on her back. She’d had werewolves on her trail ever since and a bounty on her head.
“I heard about that.”
Of course he had. He was the broker. He had his finger on the pulse of the world. And absolutely nothing happened in New York without his knowledge. From what she’d uncovered, this had been his base of operations for the past several years. “I have information.” If nothing else would tempt him to meet with her, that would.
“I’m listening.” Fabric rustled in the background. Was he in bed? Dressing? The image of him partially clothed had her breathing quickening and her pulse pounding. She had firsthand knowledge of his muscular form. He might have been clothed at the time, but it had left an indelible impact. The memory of their kiss had haunted her waking hours, but the dreams were the worst. They’d left her hot and bothered and unsatisfied, damn him.
“Not over the phone.” They might not trust each other, but they could only defeat Solange if they worked together. A long silence followed. She bit her bottom lip to keep from speaking, recognizing it as a tactic to get her to blurt information.
“Why now?” There was no inflection in his tone or way to gauge his thoughts or feelings.
Knowing she needed to tempt him, she tossed out a lure. “There was a second notebook.”
“Ah.” Something in his tone had her listening closer. “I thought you gave up too easily.” Was it pride she was hearing? In her?
“In all honesty, I didn’t realize it was there until after you’d left. Did you break the code?” She was dying to know what was in the journal he’d taken.
“It took me months.”
“And?” she asked when he went silent.
“It appears to be marketing lists and recipes. There’s a nice one for roasted pig. I found the one for stuffed chicken particularly delicious.”
All she could picture was his face when he’d realized what he’d translated, followed by one of him in the kitchen wearing a frilly apron and actually cooking. Laughter bubbled up inside. She tried to stifle it, but there was no way to stop it.
“You find that funny?” He sounded more amused than angry.
“Yes. No. I’m sorry.” After the tension she’d been living under for the past months, the unexpected humor struck her. It was so anticlimactic after all the skulking around he’d done and trouble he’d gone to to get the book. When her giggles finally subsided, she cleared her throat. “You’re sure?”
“Perfectly. I assume there was more in yours?” It should have surprised her that he’d assume she’d be able to break the code, but it didn’t. He’d never questioned her intelligence, only her loyalties.
“Yes.” Excitement thrummed inside her, but she wasn’t about to say more. Not over the phone.
“Go to the Seventy-Seventh Street and Fourth Avenue subway station. Someone will hand you a phone. Dump the one you have on you. You’ll be given instructions.”
“Wait!” she yelled before he hung up. “I can’t hang around a subway station. There’s a bounty on my head.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Of course you are,” she muttered. “I’m also in disguise. It’s not like I’m running around the city… Wait, how did you even know I’m in New York?”
“I know.”
Shaken, she wondered if she should hang up and run. There was a slight chance she could live out the rest of her life in peace if she didn’t interfere further with Solange’s plans.
Up until now, she’d assumed it was the mage who’d put out the contract on her, but what if it wasn’t? What if he’d discovered some way to track her using their blood link? She’d found a way to use it to track him, but she was a mage. She’d discounted his ability to do so, which was shortsighted. There was no reason he couldn’t ferret out someone qualified and pay for help. The idea of him with another mage, another woman, made her heart ache and her stomach burn.
The black wolf is mine.
She shook off the jealousy, the sense of possession. It wasn’t real, was no more than an act of magic, perpetrated on her when she was born and on him when he’d made his first shift to his wolf at the age of fifteen, almost a century ago.
For every bit of information she’d dug up about the black wolf, for all the times she’d watched and studied him from a distance, he remained an enigma. No one but him truly understood his endgame. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Did you… Did you put up the bounty?”
“No.” Just that one word. No other explanation.
“You expect me to believe you?” He had to give her something to reassure her she wasn’t walking into a trap. She might have skills, but using magic would attract attention and make it easier for Solange to track her. Every spell bore the mark of its maker, a mystical signature, as it were.
“Why not? You expect me to.” It was a stalemate. If neither of them gave way, they’d both end up dead, victims of pride.
She gritted her teeth against the need to scream in frustration and waited until the urge passed. “Leave the phone somewhere. I’ll find it and call.” She wasn’t about to trust another person in the mix. This was between the two of them.
“Fine, it will be taped beneath the first bench when you enter the platform. Dump your phone in the garbage next to it.”
This was it. Once she did this, events would cascade. There would be no turning back, no changing her mind. Her fate would be set. Maybe it always had been. Leaving had never been an option. Not only did her brother deserve justice, she couldn’t leave Dagen or the other lone wolves and their women to suffer at the hands of a monster. That’s what Solange was. And sometimes it took one to fight one. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting.” The line went dead.
Maybe the hint of sensual promise was nothing more than her imagination. “He’s likely plotting the best way to use me.” That’s all she was to him, an asset. It was best she remember that.
…
Anticipation left him with a heightened sense of awareness. His wolf was quivering inside him, eager to hunt. Not to kill, but to claim. He took a breath and made several calls.
Once the necessary drop was arranged, he forwarded all incoming calls to his work number to another operator. He had too many irons in the fire, too many operatives in the field that needed a contact. His business couldn’t grind to a halt because he was busy.
He grabbed his leather jacket from the closet and pulled it on before detouring to the kitchen. The leather journal was lying on the granite countertop. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he’d tried several of the recipes. Whoever the alchemist had been, they could cook.
It had taken him weeks of long nights, intense research, and dozens of false starts before finally breaking the intricate code, only to discover he’d been duped. Grinning, he shoved the book into his pocket. The joke had been on him. He hadn’t been pleased, but with space and perspective, he’d found the humor.
Onyx had certainly been amused. Even now, her laughter rang in his ears. It had been musical and filled with pleasure. It was easy to picture her dark eyes twinkling with delight, lush lips parted in a smile.
A low growl escaped him. He’d love to see her like that, except naked with his cock buried deep inside her. The woman was a walking, talking temptation.
Burying all emotion until all that was left was the merciless hunter, he set the locks and alarms on his apartment. It wasn’t paranoia that had him checking the exterior cameras before slipping out a side door. He had dangerous enemies, both as the broker and as a lone wolf. That had been driven home recently by a security breach, a betrayal by one of his people that had almost cost the gray wolf and his woman their lives. He’d dealt with the fallout—and the unfortunate employee—but it had left him more suspicious than ever.
Evening had closed in, but the streets teemed with New Yorkers out for dinner or entertainment. The city never truly slept. He enjoyed the vibrancy—the culture and entertainment, the sheer variety of people. It was possible to be alone, even surrounded by others, but being here made it somehow easier to bear.
Wolves were pack animals. It was no surprise to him that lone wolves eventually chose to give up their immortality, allowing themselves to be killed in battle. And it was a choice. Their skills were far superior to their normal brethren. He hadn’t come close to that place yet—he was only a century old—but what about another hundred years from now? Two hundred? He wasn’t about to judge his predecessors.
Then there were the ones who’d been betrayed by loved ones. No one but family or a trusted friend or lover could betray a lone wolf. He’d studied their history, dug into the lore, and found several such cases.
He picked up his pace. It had everything to do with wanting to get into place before Onyx arrived. It had nothing to do with finally seeing her again. His snort of laughter garnered him a couple of curious glances from passersby.
She finally made contact.
Too many nights he’d stared up at the ceiling unable to sleep for worrying about her, almost losing his mind when her previous number had been disconnected. She’d likely laugh her ass off if she had any idea. Shot his image as the big, bad wolf all to hell. Didn’t matter how many times he told himself he was imagining how soft her skin had been, misremembering the taste of her lush lips; the truth wouldn’t be denied.
She was perfect for him—by design, both manipulated by blood magic. He couldn’t afford to forget that for one second.
Reaching his destination, he ducked into a subway station. It wasn’t the station he’d directed her to but the one before it. Making his way along the platform to the very end, he glanced up at the nearest security camera. Right on cue, it winked out. His people were in control of and monitoring all security and communication systems.
He jumped down onto the track and faded into the shadows, his leather jacket allowing him to blend easily, as his coloring made it easier for him to mingle among the population. Unlike the other two lone wolves with their white and gray eyes and hair, his were both black, less noticeable by humans. It was another weapon in his arsenal, the same as the knives in their custom sheathes in the lining of his jacket.
He never fought as a wolf in a heavily populated area unless necessary. Keeping to conventional means meant he attracted less attention.
Ignoring the rustling sound off to his left, he lengthened his stride. Both two- and four-legged creatures called the tunnels home, as evidenced by the stench. Every now and again, city officials would oust the unlucky denizens from their home only for them to return. It was a never-ending battle, one the authorities would never win.
Two men stepped out of the darkness, took one look at him, and faded back again. Unlike most humans, the ones who made their homes down here had learned to trust their instincts. Their survival depended on it. They recognized a predator when they saw one.
Ignoring the foul odors assailing his preternatural senses, he went to his destination and took a position behind a concrete support post on the opposite side of the platform. It gave him a clear sightline when there was no train. There was no sign of her yet but he was early.
A transit camera light winked out and back on again. Good, his people were now looping the feed and would do so until he told them otherwise. No one checking would be able to track Onyx from here.
A tall bearded man in a battered army surplus jacket walked down the stairs and sprawled on the first bench. The woman on the other end stood and nervously edged away. Grinning, the man reached into his pocket and slapped an envelope beneath the seat when the train pulled in and everyone’s attention was diverted. Job done, he walked onto the train.
Time ticked away. Trains rolled in and out. No one lingered. Every time a tall woman walked into view, Dagen’s heart skipped a beat. The hour deadline was minutes away. “Come on. Come on,” he muttered. Now that she’d confirmed she was in the city, the idea of her being on her own didn’t sit well with either him or his wolf. Their enemies had too many eyes and ears watching for any sign.
His wolf gave a happy little yip inside him as Dagen stifled a chuckle. “Smart lady.” Dressed in combat boots, an old black raincoat, and carrying a battered knapsack over one shoulder and a garbage bag over the other, she stomped into view. Long, scraggly gray and brown hair fell into her face. A dirty baseball hat perched on her head.
A man was sitting on the bench, but she marched over and plunked down alongside him. He screwed up his nose and immediately vacated. She dropped the garbage bag beside her, opened it, and rummaged around. It was only because he was watching closely that he saw her hand slip beneath the bench and retrieve the phone.
She removed it from its envelope and jammed it into her pocket. Leaving the garbage bag, she went to the nearest trash can and flashed another phone before tossing it. Returning to her seat, she slumped against the wall. Anyone looking would think she wasn’t paying any attention to her surroundings. He could see her eyes darting back and forth beneath the hanks of long hair she was using for cover.
Right at the appointed hour, the phone rang. She took a deep breath and answered. An automated voice instructed her to get on the train and go three stops. He wondered if she would. The train was coming, the vibrations flowing through the ground. Dagen watched the other people on the platform, sensing no particular threat.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t wearing a tracker.
The train whizzed by, kicking up dust and heat. He turned his head away to protect his eyes. The train blocked his view of the bench, but he saw her walk on. Once she was inside, he watched until the doors closed. As the train passed by, he leaped onto the top. Unleashing his claws, he dug them into the metal roof. Not deep enough to penetrate but enough to keep him from flying off. Flattening his body, he enjoyed the wild ride. It wasn’t the first time he’d ridden the subway this way and it wouldn’t be the last.
Exhilaration had his heart pumping and adrenaline racing through his veins. At the appointed location, he jumped off before the train stopped and slid into the shadows. Onyx got off and waited, glancing around and tapping her toe. She was either nervous or impatient. He’d put money on the second.
Pulling out his phone, he dialed her number. “Take the stairs up to the sidewalk. Walk two blocks to the right.” He hung up before she could object.
She glared at the phone. For a split second, he thought she might toss it onto the tracks. Reining in her temper, she shoved it in her pocket. He wanted her off balance when they met. With her, he’d need every advantage he could get. He might be decades older and an immortal werewolf, but she was a mage. He had no idea the extent of her powers, but she’d proved intelligent, resourceful, and relentless—an excellent ally or a deadly enemy. Time would tell which one she’d be.
Dagen waited until the train left and the platform was momentarily empty before racing across the tracks and leaping onto it. He made it a heartbeat before two laughing teenagers scurried down the stairs. Ignoring them, he went in search of his target. He found her easily, heading to the neutral destination he’d chosen.
She’d abandoned her garbage bag, but the knapsack remained. It likely contained clothes or weapons. As if sensing eyes on her, she started to turn. He ducked into an apartment building and went up the stairs and out through the roof access. Staying low, he raced across several rooftops before flattening himself on the edge of the one on the corner.
Not giving her time to get impatient, he called.
The phone answered on the first ring. “Enough games. I’m leaving.” Anger gave every word a sharp bite.
“Turn right. You’ll be met in the first alley.” This had been his city for more than seventy years. He’d lived in major cities in Europe, Asia, and Africa, but New York called him home. He’d watched in awe as skyscrapers dotted the landscape. Hell, he owned several of them. There wasn’t a nook, cranny, or alley he wasn’t familiar with.
“If you’re not there, I’m outta here.” Tossing the phone to the sidewalk, she stomped on it, the thick-soled boot destroying it. He rather expected she was picturing his face and not the phone. The show of fiery temper made him grin.
She stalked around the corner. She might be furious with him, but her gaze never stopped scoping out her surroundings, looking for potential danger. It never failed to amaze him how few people looked up, never expecting an attack from above.
His wolf went on alert. Dagen sniffed the air and swore under his breath. What were the odds? Either Onyx had contacted reinforcements or they were plain unlucky.
He wasn’t a big believer in coincidences. He ground his teeth to keep from howling. Betrayal left a bitter taste in his mouth. Even though he’d half expected it, the disappointment was acute. A part of him had expected better of her.
Crouching behind an HVAC vent, he watched three wolves swagger into view. They were all tall and broad and moved with the fluid grace of their species. Two were Caucasian, the other was mixed race—African American with one or two others tossed into the gene pool for good measure. All wore jeans, sneakers, and T-shirts. You couldn’t always tell a wolf’s age from his appearance but he judged these three to be younger. The biggest one eyed Onyx. She took a step back, watching him warily.
He zeroed in on her knapsack. “What you got in the knapsack, lady? This here is our alley. You give us the bag and we might let you walk away.”
Well, shit.