Dark Lies: Chapter 38

Savannah

Despite my churning thoughts, I passed out on the ride back to Magic Side.

The day had taken every ounce of strength and energy I had. That, and my mom also gave me sleep-anywhere genes, and the car was about as good a place as any to catch a little shut-eye.

I vaguely remembered Jaxson carrying me up to his penthouse when I woke the next morning at twenty past eleven in his bed once again.

I had to get my own apartment, or at least my own sheets. Waking up to his scent each morning was not conducive to clear thinking, and I needed to keep my head on straight. As much as it irritated me, my aunt was right. It is extremely dangerous to be with him.

That was, if I wanted to make my own fate and not get enraptured by our goddamned mate bond.

Jaxson was waiting for me when I emerged. “Sleep well?”

Nuh-uh. This wasn’t going to be a precedent. I put my hands on my hips. “We’re not together. I need to get my own place and stop waking up in your bed.”

“And yet, here you are again. I wonder how that keeps happening?” With an infuriating smirk hovering at the corner of his mouth, Jaxson handed me a cup of coffee. “Ready to hunt down a vampire?”

I gratefully took a sip as hope blossomed in my chest. “We’ve got a lead?”

The get-my-own-place conversation could wait.

Jaxson grunted. “Well, I contacted Neve Cross and Damian Malek. They say they can help, and we can head to their place as soon as you’re ready.”

Excitement thrummed in my chest. I’d met Neve and Amal the day we went to Bentham to question the Ripper. She’d then saved our asses in Forks. Though we didn’t know each other well, part of me had hoped we’d see each other again. I cocked my head. “I didn’t know Neve had a partner. Why does Malek sound familiar?”

“He’s the one who gave us the tip on where to find the Viper. That, and you might have seen Malek Tower in the Circuit.”

Oh, right. That. It was a black spire that dominated the landscape of downtown Magic Side like a dark lightning bolt shooting toward the sky.

I set my coffee down as the hair on my neck stood on end. I’d heard rumors about him. “Isn’t he…”

“A fallen angel? Yes. That, and a crime lord.”

Fantastic. A fallen angel crime lord. What would he demand for helping us? Our own fingers?

“Why him?” I asked nervously. And why would Neve, who was a detective at the Order, be working with a dangerous crime lord?

Jaxson shrugged and set down his own coffee. “He made his fortune running bounty hunters and recovering property—at least, recovering is what he calls it—among other things. He’s also a Seeker. Between him and Neve, we should be able to track the damn thing down.”

I scoffed. “She works for the Order. Do you think you can convince her to work with him?”

Jaxson gave me a sly smile. “Oh, they’re together.”

My eyes widened. Talk about a conflict of interest.

I quickly pulled together a patchwork outfit from the pile of old clothes Sam had left me. At least my hair was back to normal. It had taken a couple of showers to wash Sam’s potion out completely.

Jaxson drove us north in his spare truck, a well-loved beater, arguing that there was no time to grab my car from Eclipse and that I didn’t know the way to Malek’s place.

I was certain he did it just to rub my nerves the wrong way.

After about thirty minutes, we were cruising through an upscale neighborhood on the northern tip of Magic Side. “Welcome to the Breakers,” Jaxson said.

Giant houses lined the glistening lakeshore. While Laurel’s house was larger and more ornate than anywhere else I’d lived, the Breakers made the Indies look like a slum.

We turned down a long drive and pulled up in front of a two-story house with massive windows looking out over the water. Apparently, crime did pay.

The tail end of the morning breeze caught my hair as I slid out of Jaxson’s ride. We were parked next to a glistening black Porsche, which contrasted with Jaxson’s old blue pickup in every way imaginable.

The truck was like Jaxson. Rugged and powerful. Reliable. Ready to take on whatever you threw at it and give it hell.

I wondered what my Gran Fury said about me.

Watch out, other drivers, Wolfie quipped.

Shut up, you.

How about “Hell on wheels”? Or “Doesn’t brake for werewolves”?

I ignored the continued suggestions from my wolf as we headed up the driveway. Beyond the tree-lined yard, the skyrises of Chicago and the outline of Bentham flickered in the hazy distance across the waters of Lake Michigan.

A butler opened the front door and let us in the bright and modern house—not the dark and tortured abode of a fallen angel, as I’d expected. Paintings and unusual artwork hung on the walls, suggesting a life of exotic adventures in long-forgotten places.

Yet there was an unmistakable precision to everything.

The butler led us into a palatial kitchen that was so perfect, it made me miss the warm confines of the LaSalles’ and the endless boxes of Froot Loops shoved in the cupboards.

Neve was sitting at the counter, sipping a coffee from a tiny glass. Her dark red hair seemed to float in the breeze, though the air was still. I inadvertently touched my own hair.

She stood immediately and gave me a hug. “I hear your adversary just refuses to die.”

I hugged her back. “Well, it’s more that dying doesn’t seem to be a problem for him. Thanks again for helping me kill him last time.”

A man entered the room, immediately drawing my eyes. His signature bombarded my senses with the scent of windswept forests and the sound of crashing waves.

I hadn’t known what to expect from a fallen angel, but Damian Malek was so handsome, it was almost painful—a tall man with piercing green eyes and perfect dark hair.

He extended his hand to Jaxson. “Jaxson, it’s good to see you again.”

The fallen angel turned to me and smiled broadly, making my pulse quicken. “And you must be Savannah. My name is Damian. Neve has told me a lot about you. It’s great to finally make your acquaintance.”

Holy damn. This man was gorgeous, and judging by his signature, extremely powerful and dangerous. Still, he paled in comparison to Jaxson in my eyes. Where Damian held a sophisticated grace about him, Jaxson was rugged and all beast—a study in contrasts like the two vehicles parked out front.

I know which one you want to ride.

SHUT it, Wolfie!

Neve lightly touched my arm. “Can we get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

My eyes darted to her glass, which was still sitting on the counter. “Your coffee smells divine, and I didn’t get much sleep last night. Do you have extra?”

“One jet fuel, coming right up,” Damian said, and set a strange copper cup with a long handle on the stovetop.

Apparently, a gazillionaire fallen angel was about to make me fancy coffee. My life had really gone to strange places since the Taphouse.

Neve returned to her spot at the counter. “I’ve got some good news. I think I’ve identified the guy you two are looking for.”

My jaw slackened. “Seriously?”

Jaxson had only called her this morning. I figured we had a snowball’s chance in hell.

“Alejandro Rivera, a notorious dealer of magical artwork. He lives in San Miguel de Allende, a mountain town a couple hours north of Mexico City. He’s known for his exclusive parties and extravagant acquisitions, which he auctions at exorbitant prices.”

“And do you think there’s any chance he might still have this fingerbone of Dragan’s?” It sounded absolutely ridiculous. Why would a wealthy art dealer keep someone’s finger?

Neve took a sip of her coffee and smiled. “Oh, for sure. This guy is creepy. Not only is he known for his black-market dealings in antiquities but also for his—how do I say it—impulsive temperament? He holds longstanding grudges, and if Victor Dragan was caught trying to lift one of Alejandro’s objects, then I’d bet he has a special showcase devoted specially to Dragan’s withered finger.”

This guy sounds like a maniac, my wolf said.

I crossed my arms. “Delightful. How soon can we arrange a meeting with him?”

“She’s fiery,” Damian whispered to Jaxson, perhaps assuming I couldn’t hear, as he stirred the coffee.

Jaxson locked me with a heated look that sent a whisper of tingles up my thighs. “You have no idea.”

Damian poured the coffee into a set of little gold-rimmed glasses like Neve’s. “You can meet him tonight. He’s holding an art auction, and I’ve negotiated admittance for myself and company.”

“Really?” My breath caught as I tried to temper my excitement. “You would do that for us?”

“Of course,” Damian said. “I owe Jaxson and the pack a favor. Plus, you’re Nevaeh’s friend.”

Neve smiled at me warmly and winked, and something in my chest clenched. I’d been in Magic Side just a short time, but already, I’d met more people that I cared about than I’d known growing up.

I eyed Jaxson, wondering what he’d done to deserve this favor. Damian was a crime lord, and I knew the wolves had underworld dealings.

Probably best not to ask too many questions.

“Thank you. That’s amazing,” I said as I sipped the coffee. It was dark and sweet, with aromas that brought far away lands and exotic places to mind. “The coffee is, too.”

“It’s Turkish,” Damian explained. “From near my homeland.”

“Once you’ve had it, you never want anything else,” Neve said, smiling at Damian. The way she looked at him made me wonder if she was talking about the coffee or the man.

How in the hell did an Order detective wind up with one of the biggest criminals in Magic Side? And here I’d thought Jaxson and I were opposites, I mused as I sipped the dark brew.

A cop and a criminal, my wolf remarked. The sex must be explosive. I wonder if they use handcuffs?

I choked on my coffee, and the others all looked at me. “Sorry. It’s hot.”

I bet it is.

Shut UP, Wolfie. You’re going to make me choke to death.

“We can’t thank you two enough,” I blurted as my face heated.

“Well, you can return the favor,” Neve said, putting her empty glass in the sink. “I can’t go to the auction—there’s no way Alejandro is going to let an Order operative in—but from what Jaxson has told me, you’re an incredible artist and have a picture-perfect memory. Once you get back, could you make sketches of the people you see buying objects?”

I blushed harder. Jaxson had told them that I was an incredible artist?

“I don’t have a photographic memory, and I’m not an artist. I’m proficient and sketch a lot. But I’m happy to try.”

“I saw the sketches you did of the werewolves that attacked you in Belmont. You’re very good.”

Brushing my hair aside, I looked at the floor, unsure whether I should be embarrassed or proud. “I’ll help any way I can.”

“Thanks,” she said. “These black-market art and artifact dealers think they’re untouchable, but sooner or later, they all mess up. If we can build a database of who—”

She squeaked as Damian pulled her close, adoration and fire flickering in his green eyes. “Detective Cross is a champion of world heritage. No thief stands a chance.”

Color flooded her cheeks, and she swiveled out of his arms. “That’s right. No thief or fallen angel.”

I knew it, my wolf chirped.

Oh, my God. I needed to put a muzzle on her.

“Now that that’s settled, we need to find you an outfit for the auction,” Neve said. “The word on the street is that these are extravagant affairs.”

Nerves flittered in my stomach, and I suddenly felt out of my element. I’d never been to anything fancier than a fish boil before.

I looked down at my old shorts and boots self-consciously. Yeah. Not going to work.

“You two talk business,” Neve said as she grabbed my arm and towed me out of the room. “We’re going to do some shopping.”

Oh, no. I hated shopping, and my bank account had five hundred dollars in it, last I’d checked.

As Neve all but dragged me down the hall, I heard Damian say quietly to Jaxson, “Alejandro is a shady fucker. His business is acquiring ill-gotten artifacts, but his hobby is collecting people he finds appetizing.”

Great.

Hopefully, we weren’t going to be on the menu.