The Curse (Belador #3)(18)



Storm didn’t move a muscle, but he vibrated with frustration. “That’s it? I tell you the truth and you’re angry?”

“I’m not angry.” She turned to her bike.

“That’s the second time you’ve lied.”

She pulled her jacket on and lifted her helmet, pausing to look at him. She would have done anything to see him alive again and here he was. How he got here shouldn’t matter. But it did. “You’re right. And to be perfectly fair, I have no right to be angry. I am glad someone was there to take care of you.” Just wish it had been me.

“Maybe I should take it as a compliment that you’re angry.” His eyes shone with a hint of humor that barely hid the tethered frustration. “I’m still expecting dinner.”

She’d pulled her helmet on and could pretend she hadn’t heard him, but that would be childish. Did she want to see him again? Absolutely. But she needed some time to get her emotions under control. “Let me get back to you on that.”

“We need a way to communicate.”

Just have your guardian spirit contact me since she chases down women for you. Evalle bit back that reply. That wasn’t the truth and she knew it, but she’d never dealt with emotions like these and wasn’t enjoying it one bit. Which was why she needed some space. “You have my cell phone and e-mail.”

Storm stepped over to stand next to her bike. “Let’s not use cell phones yet. I set up a new e-mail account.” He gave her the address and the password.

“Why give me your password?”

“Because we’re not going to actually send the e-mails.”

“We don’t send them? How hard did your head hit that wall?”

He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I’ve missed your smart mouth, especially your lips.”

When he said things like that and looked at her as if she were his favorite dessert, she wanted to kiss him again, which went to show how much this man jumbled her feelings. “You have thirty seconds to explain. I’ll be late if I don’t get moving.”

“Go into the server and open a new e-mail. Write my name and the date in the subject line, then type your message. When you’re done, save it as a draft. I’ll find your messages in the draft and leave one for you the same way. That way no one can intercept our e-mails or trace them.”

That sounded pretty cloak-and-dagger, but Storm had not been this careful prior to being injured, so he must have good reason to be so now. She’d lost a lot of sleep over his possible death. If this kept him safe, she’d do it.

That didn’t mean she’d have dinner with him.

She had too much to sort through right now and no time to waste figuring out her screwed-up psyche. Cranking her motorcycle, she reached up to lower her face shield, but Storm stopped her with his hand on hers.

Then he leaned close and said, “Plan on dinner … at my place tomorrow night. I’ll post the address in an e-mail draft.”

She waited for him to step back, then she dropped her face shield and drove away, glancing at her rearview mirror.

The sidewalk was empty.

Storm had disappeared into the night again.

After pushing her bike through yellow lights the whole way to the Iron Casket, she parked in an open spot far enough from the front door to study the lay of the land.

The pair of behemoth bouncers guarding the entrance missed little. With the boss they had, their lives literally depended on their performance. Even now she’d bet they were making a mental note of how long it took her to peel out of her jacket.

Last time she’d been here, she’d come close to a throwdown with the owner, Deek D’Alimonte, over Kardos, a teenage male witch who had foolishly taken an interest in Deek’s sister.

Committing suicide by torching yourself would be an easier death for a man than being caught sniffing around the sister of an immortal centaur.

Evalle had just barely managed to extricate herself and wisecracking Kardos from that tight spot. Deek hadn’t forbidden her from coming back, but he wouldn’t be happy to see her either. With a little luck, she’d slip through unnoticed.

She headed for the door. Tristan had picked a perfect place to meet. Deek allowed no weapons, and no use of majik or powers, inside his club. Tristan didn’t have to worry about being surrounded by VIPER agents or a battle with Evalle.

When she’d first transferred to the southeastern region of VIPER, she’d been warned about Deek. That he’d been in this area long before VIPER formed the Coalition and he’d refused to join it. He took no one’s side but his own. Rather than face Deek as an enemy when VIPER was still in its early stages, they’d struck a deal. Deek agreed to be neutral territory if a summit meeting was ever needed. In return, he had full autonomy within his domain.

In other words, stay out or enter at your own risk.

Weapons could be found with a body search, so she left her spelled dagger hidden on her bike. When she reached the entrance, she handed cash for her cover charge to one of the Goth giants guarding the door and walked in.

Inside the two-level, glittery nightclub, which had a soaring open center, music rocked the walls with heavy bass and screaming guitars. Sweat and alcohol leaked from the pores of gyrating dancers. Deek had pulled out all the stops to turn a basic warehouse into floor-to-ceiling sparkly when he’d dated a Fae woman, but that had been before the ugly breakup.

Sherrilyn Kenyon & D's Books