Enemy Mine (29 page)

Hours later, once everyone was settled, Nikko led Selena to the bedroom and bathroom assigned to him. He had not slept one night in the big bed, but was looking forward to sharing it with Selena. He turned on the showerheads in the shower and pulled her in, clothes and all. He did not undress her. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and just held her. He knew she was hurting over losing her friend. He knew she missed Marisol, and he knew she was emotionally exhausted. He felt the same way. Part of him could not wait for the next few days to come and go, but a part of him feared one or both of them would not survive Paymon. Even with the stones, and he and Selena working together, Vetis had proven formidable. Paymon would be a completely different animal.

Nikko smoothed back the hair plastered to her face and forehead and smiled down at her. His heart swelled with love. She was fearless, fierce, loving, and—his hands slid down the small of her back to the top swell of her righteous ass—sexy as hell.

His body tightened. He wanted to make love to her, but he did not want to push. He grinned as he felt the devil between his legs rear against her belly. That part of him had no sensitivity to her fragile emotions.

Droplets of water dotted her long lashes like tiny, sparkling diamonds. A mischievous smile twitched along her full, pouty lips. She pressed closer into him and ran her hands down his back to his ass. “We’re over-dressed,” she said, lifting up on her toes to kiss him.

“Selena,” he said against her lips. “You don’t have to.

Her eyes flashed. Pushing him back against the tile, she pulled her clothes from her body. Nikko’s cock lengthened. He would never get his fill of her magnificent body. Her skin was alabaster smooth with just a hint of cinnamon for spice. Long, lean, and curvy in all the right places, she could be the Playmate of the Month or Time’s Woman of the Year.

He pulled his torn shirt off, then peeled his soaked trousers off, kicking them to the side. The best part about Selena’s body was, it was all his. He’d kill any man or woman who tried to take it from him.

Three feet separated them. Neither one moved; they just stared at each other in anticipation. Nikko was literally salivating. He reached out to her. She reached out to him. Their fingers entwined. Slowly, Nikko pulled her into his arms. His lips lowered to hers. In a slow, sanguine kiss, he took her lips captive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T
he stones around Selena’s neck flared against Nikko’s chest. He reached up and traced his fingers across them. Pulling his lips from hers, he asked, “What do they want?”

She wrapped her hand around his so that his hand held them. They pulsed with warmth. He looked at her in wonder. She smiled. “They are eager for a fight.”

He felt the powerful thud of her heart against his palm. Her skin there flared with the same heat as the stones. “Is your heart like these?”

“In a sense, yes. While not a true nanorian, our hearts heat with the power of a Prince of Hell. Singularly, Paymon’s heart has the power to control any nanorian, but not the combined power of all of them. One day, Marisol will understand the power she holds.”

“I won’t stand a chance,” Nikko teased.

Selena grinned a flirty grin. His heart melted. “As if you ever had a chance.”

He shook his head and pushed her up against the tile. “You had me at hello, baby.”

Selena’s eyes darkened. She reached up behind her neck and unclasped the necklace.

“What are you doing?” he said, afraid she would be vulnerable to attack.

“So long as I possess the necklace, their power is mine to command.” She pulled him closer and wrapped it around his neck, then hers, and fastened it. It flared. “Now, shut up and make love to me.”

His blood blazed with such intensity it burned. His cock stiffened to the consistency of steel. He pushed her legs apart and, with no preamble, filled her to his root. Selena closed her eyes, pressing her head back against the wall, bringing him with her. “I love that,” she moaned.

Nikko swelled more, if that was possible. Lightning bolts of desire shot through him. “God, Selena,” he hoarsely groaned, his rod throbbing inside her. Her liquid muscles clamped around him. He could feel every part of her. Slick, tight, demanding. Pulling him deeper. The intensity of the feelings nearly brought him to his knees. He pushed higher into her and she responded by arching into him. He pulled back, her muscles reluctant to release him. The erotic drag inside her pushed him to the edge. He thrust back into her. Every part of him sparked with fire, every cell of him pulsed, raw, aching. He thrust again. And again. The wild sensual whirlwind of bonding with his woman, the mother of his child, the woman he loved so intensely, caused a mist of heat to sting his eyes.

She hung on to him, meeting his fervor with equal fervor. He came in a high, searing explosion of lightning strikes. Her body imprinted every inch of him. Her cries of passion stormed through him, pushing him higher, so high he became dizzy with sensation. Her body voraciously accepted his heavy burst of seed, milking him for more.

Still inside her, Nikko carried her to the bed and laid her down on it. He wanted more. Could never get enough. He ground into her. Selena writhed beneath him, her nails digging into his back, her rushed cries for more fueling his insatiable need. He came again.

Their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounded against each other’s while the stones flared red-hot, searing into their skins.

Nikko collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving so furiously he could not breathe. Selena roused herself to unclasp the necklace so that he could move. He did not go far. He rolled onto his back and pulled her into his arms.

His head spun. His nerve endings pulsed. His limbs felt as if they were filled with lead. Sliding her fingers into his hair, Selena slid against his slick body and kissed him. Her lips were tender, loving, grateful. She pulled back and smiled at him. He brushed the waves of damp hair from her face and his heart stumbled. Her dark eyes radiated love, and his eyes stung with tears for a second time. “What did I do to deserve you?” he whispered.

“Hmm, just luck, I guess.” She kissed him again. “I love you, Nikko Cruz.”

“I love you, Selena de la Roja.”

Selena awoke to soft kisses traveling down her back. She smiled and moaned.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Nikko said against her right butt cheek.

A sharp knock on the door jerked them both out of their lazy haze. “You two need to get out here,” Cassidy urgently said.

Two minutes later, Selena and Nikko emerged dressed and hurried toward the great room.

“A Joran is on the phone for you,” Cassidy said, looking at Selena, hitting the speaker button.

Nervous tension skittered along Selena’s back. It was daylight. Joran calling now could bring nothing but bad news.

“What’s wrong, Joran?” she asked, looking at Nikko and the assembled team.

“Paymon asked me to give you a message.” Joran’s voice sounded forced.

Selena gasped and looked at Nikko, who had paled a few shades.

“He came to you?”

There was a long pause. “He wants the necklace. He said if it is not delivered to the convent on St. Michael’s by this time tomorrow, he will take your sunshine away.”

Nikko caught Selena in his arms as she crumpled to the floor.

“Selena?” Joran said, his voice unsteady. “He told me he will take her apart inch by inch if you so much as think about defying him.”

“I—did he say anything else?”

“No, but—fuck it all to Hell. He—he’s going to kill me if I—”

“What?” Selena cried.
“Tell me.”

“He’s possessed Balderama. Get that piece of shit and you’ll get Pay—”

The line went dead. “Joran!” she screamed, coming to her feet. “Joran!” Silence. Selena looked up at Nikko and the team in shock. “I think Paymon just killed Joran!”

“We’ll do a reverse on the number,” Cassidy said, “and get a location on him. I’m calling Marcus.”

Nikko took Selena’s shaking body into his arms. “Listen to me, Selena. For now, Marisol is safe. The nun confirmed it.”

Selena shook her head. “We have to go to her now!”

He took her face into his hands and forced her to look at him. “Listen to me! He hasn’t done anything yet. And he won’t, not if we get him first.”

“But he’s—” Selena shot to her feet. “Paymon has possessed Balderama to get the cask! He’ll be at the auction tonight!”

“And we’ll get them both.”

“You’re damn right we will!” She grabbed the phone. “I need to call Father Ken and make sure Marisol is all right.”

Father Ken answered the phone on the first ring, his voice strained.

“Father, it’s Selena.”

“I was told to expect your call,” the affable priest said flatly.

Her heart stopped. It was all she could do to ask the next question. Who’d told him? Paymon. “Tell me, is Marisol safe?”

“She is unharmed.”

“Is there someone there?”

“Not at the moment.”

Selena grabbed Nikko’s hand and squeezed so hard she thought she would break his fingers. “Listen to me. Keep her in the sanctuary, on the altar. Douse her with holy water and pray like you have never prayed before. And, Father? Do not let her out of your sight for one minute. I’m going to make everything right. Okay?”

“I will do all that I can.”

“Keep Marisol safe!”

The line disconnected.

Selena inhaled deeply, then looked at the assembled team. “When I’m done with Daddy dearest, he’s going to wish he never had a daughter.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

T
he stage was set.

Selena stood at the third-floor railing looking down onto the empty dance floor. Lost Souls was shut down to host the event of all events: the final showdown between the Prince of Hell and his daughter.

Low lights glowed behind the bar and along the perimeter of the dance floor, giving the illusion of anonymity to those who entered. The tables stood empty, the chairs stacked on top, the low leather ottomans pushed against the wall. The place looked lost. Vacant. A shell of a once vibrant life. A dead host. And so it would remain. She would not open the doors again. Not as Lost Souls. When she walked out of this club later tonight, this chapter of her life would be closed. Forever.

The stones around her throat vibrated powerfully. She smiled and fingered the empty setting she had fashioned just an hour earlier. It was larger than the others, a worthy seat for the crown jewel of all nanorians. Paymon’s black heart.

Selena glided down the winding stairway, her hand sliding lightly along the metal railing down to the ground floor. Power and confidence infused her. Tonight she was untouchable.

The place was wired for sound and video. Outside, a three-block radius was crawling with undercover operatives. All of Nikko’s team were wired with earpieces, as was Selena. In a room somewhere close by, Mr. Black was dialed in via video and audio feeds.

Not only was Paymon going down tonight, but so were the five unfortunate bidders who were no doubt salivating in anticipation. Enriched uranium, the king of mass destruction, was within reach—for a price.

Selena smiled and nodded to Nikko’s team, lined up in front of the bar. Cassidy looked hot in the black-andred Lost Souls cocktail uniform. Satch, Stone, and the vampire Cross, who’d showed at the last minute, looked every bit her security detail. Her gaze drifted past them to the double brass doors and the man dressed in a slick black-on-black suit who stood sentry at the entrance. Nikko. Her heart fluttered and her belly softly tumbled. It was game on, winner take all.

I love you
.

He turned his cobalt-blue eyes on her and smiled.
I love you
.

Selena inhaled deeply and nodded.

The first limousine would arrive shortly. Then in twenty-minute intervals, the others would arrive, with Balderama coming in last. He had insisted on it. It served her purposes beautifully. As each bidder arrived, he would be escorted to a specially equipped conference room on the second floor, where Noslov would entertain them until they were all assembled, and then? At exactly midnight, the action would appear to commence, and,
poof
, their lives would forever be changed. Good riddance!

Selena smiled inwardly. All except Señor. For him she had a very special surprise in her kill room.

“Team?” Mr. Black’s voice reverberated through the small device in her ear.

A collective “I copy” followed.

“De la Roja, do you copy?” Mr. Black asked.

“Yes,” she softly said, realizing that despite her confidence, she was nervous.

“Limo one is approaching,” Mr. Black announced. “The occupant has been photo ID’d as Amir bin Asheed. Founder of the small but terrible and very organized Egyptian Militia. They were responsible for the bombing last month in Cairo after their candidate lost the election for president. They vow to continue to bomb Egypt until sharia law is established. I suspect they hope to achieve that by detonating a dirty bomb.”

Selena inhaled and ran her hands down her skirt, then slowly exhaled. She was literally dressed to kill. Her outfit was created precisely for this type of event. To the unsuspecting eye, she looked like a cross between a dominatrix and a genie. She wore thigh-high leather boots beneath a long, hip-hugging carwash skirt made of diaphanous black material, clasped to her by a wide, supple, studded-leather belt that doubled as sheaths for two short daggers that lay horizontally across her belly, easily accessible. The bikini-style top was of the same diaphanous material but provocatively twisted with the same black studded leather as her belt. Her midriff was bare except for the twinkle of a bloodred ruby belly-button stud. She wore assorted razor-sharp, metal-bangle bracelets on each arm halfway up to her elbows. They were easily released and launchable to slice and dice. Her hair was pulled back into a high knot atop her head, then fell freely down her back. Proudly, arrogantly, deliberately, she showed the necklace off to its every advantage. After Nikko and Marisol, it was her most precious possession. One she would defend with her life.

She fingered the extra setting again, anxious to fill it. Preceded and followed in by a security detail, the Egyptian entered with little fanfare. Selena strode toward the front door as Nikko ushered him inside. She smiled graciously at the nondescript man and greeted him in his language. He looked surprised, but quickly collected himself.

“I’m afraid, sir, your detail must remain outside,” Selena firmly said, looking directly at Asheed.

He motioned away the four sphinx-size goons surrounding him. Nikko showed them the door.

“Follow me, please.” She led the Egyptian to the elevator, and once the doors closed behind them, she said, “Mr. Noslov will be your host as we await the others.” The doors opened and she escorted him to a doorway at the end of the hall. She opened it to a pacing Noslov, who immediately morphed into cool, calm, and collected.

“Velcome,” he said, extending his hand. The Egyptian cautiously entered the room, eyeing every corner. With the black slate conference table, the six black leather seats, a laptop sitting before each one, and the loaded beverage cart, the room was simple and nonthreatening.

Just as Selena had the Egyptian settled, Mr. Black piped up in her earpiece, “Our next guest has arrived.”

As Selena hurried down to the entrance, Mr. Black filled them in. “From what we have managed to gather, this chap is Mohammad Abdul Rahim, founder of the Al Rahim Trust, or ART. Since UBL’s demise, Rahim’s organization has swelled with former al-Qaeda members. He’s based in Karachi, but this Pakistani rebel has his sights on Kashmir. His plan? To create then rule a self-sustaining terrorist country. He’s well funded by way of heroin. He is the largest peddler of the drug in Pakistan.”

Selena was met with a derogatory once-over by the lone Pakistani. He was dressed in a formal
shalwar kameez
. His choice of clothing surprised her. She would have thought he would not want to bring attention to himself and would have, like the Egyptian, donned Western clothing. She smiled graciously at the arrogant prick. He would not be so high-and-mighty when the clock struck twelve.

As Selena showed him into the conference room, he abruptly stopped at the threshold and chipped off something to Noslov in Urdu. Noslov smirked and looked at Selena, then shot back in the same language, to which Rahim responded by flinging his hand dismissively at Selena, then sitting down with his back to her.

“Rahim just told Noslov he was insulted by your attire,” Mr. Black chuckled. “Noslov told him to suck a goat dick, to which Rahim said he wouldn’t touch Noslov’s mother if she were the last goat on earth.”

Selena backed out of the room and shut the door. “He can go back to his own damn country if he doesn’t like the way Western women dress.”

“Hurry up, de la Roja, the next limo just pulled up,” Mr. Black said.

“That was a short twenty minutes!”

“We just hit the jackpot,” Mr. Black said, the excitement in his voice palpable. “Our next guest is none other than Abdul ali Rashid. Cousin and confidant of Muhammad Atef, the brains behind al-Qaeda. I’m going to guess al-Qaeda is in the market for enriched uranium for a little payback. Once he’s inside, do not allow him to leave.”

Selena greeted the terrorist as she had those who preceded him and led him into the conference room. Rahim stood and started in on Rashid. Selena closed the door on Noslov’s elevated voice trying to placate them.

Next up was a Somali general, followed by an ousted Malaysian prince.

Once all the men were comfortably seated around the wide conference table, Selena shut the door to the room and turned to face them.

“Gentlemen,” Selena began, “if I may have your attention, I have a few ground rules to go over before I turn the auction over to Mr. Noslov. If any of you need to use the facilities, please do so now. Once we begin, there will be no coming or going until all bids are locked in and verified.” She looked around the room; no one moved. “I’ll take it then that you are all ready to proceed.” She looked at Noslov, who stood quietly but alert in the corner. “You may open your laptops and boot them up. A number will appear in the upper-right-hand portion of your screen. Enter that number seven times in succession with no spaces. The next screen will instruct you how to verify your account. Once that is done, a blank box will pop up. That is the box, when you are told to do so, in which you will enter your bid, calculated in US dollars. Whole numbers only. No dollar signs, no commas, and no decimal for cents. You will have only one chance to submit it, so make sure before you do, it is your final offer.”

She looked at Noslov and nodded, then nodded at the group of men. “Mr. Noslov will take it from here. Good luck, gentlemen.”

Selena exited the room and shut the door firmly behind her. She smiled at Cassidy and Stone, who were waiting in the hallway. “They’re all yours.”

“Balderama’s limo just pulled up,” Mr. Black said. “We’ll wait until you have secured him before we move in on the conference room.”

“Copy,” Selena said. The last thing they wanted was to call attention to the sting and have Balderama take off. No way was Daddy getting out of Lost Souls alive.

As she hurried down to greet Señor, Selena’s nerves began to unravel.
Not now!
If ever she needed to remain composed and focused, it was now. She was a seasoned warrior, an assassin! She had enough power and backup to stage a successful coup. She needed to calm down. As she did when she needed strength, her fingers caressed the warm stones around her neck. They flared in understanding. And just like that, her heartbeat slowed to a regular rhythm.

Manufacturing a welcoming smile, she made her way to Los Cuatro
’s
figurehead as Nikko ushered him into the quiet club.

“Señor,” she warmly said, taking his hand. The faint stench of sulfur swirled around him. “I am so glad to see you made it safely.” He eyed her coldly. She pretended not to notice. She dropped her voice and said, “I’m very nervous. We are so close to our goal, but—” She pulled him along out of earshot of Nikko and away from the door. “Noslov has been acting strange.”

Señor’s brows rose high into his forehead. “Strange, how?”

Selena lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Like he has something up his sleeve. I can’t put my finger on it. But I’ve had him under my thumb since I spoke with you yesterday.”

“Why did you not alert me?”

Selena squeezed his hand and released it. “After our discussion yesterday, I didn’t want to cause you more worry.”

“Speaking of our discussion, have you had second thoughts?”

“Regarding Mr. Cruz and his handler?”

He nodded.

Selena chose her next words carefully. “No, but I should have recognized it was not my call to make.
You
have the vision of the bigger picture. I only have snapshots. My apologies for questioning you.” She inclined her head in contrition, though it grated on her every nerve to do so. While she knew Paymon lurked behind Balderama’s odd-colored eyes, she doubted he had full possession of the man. A human host as strong-willed and downright evil as most daemons, such as Balderama, would be difficult to completely possess.

So Selena played on her relationship with Balderama, hoping to reach him and his mind and perhaps restore some trust. Then. Strike.

Balderama took her hand into his and smiled. “I have something for you, Selena. A small token to show my appreciation for all you have done for our cause and all you will continue to do.”

Her heart leapt in her chest. “That is not necessary, Señor. My reward is in the final result.”

A malevolent smile twisted his lips. He opened her hand palm up and placed something in it. “Indeed. To final results.”

Selena looked down at a bloodstained signet ring. Her stomach roiled in recognition. Heat stung her eyes. Dear God, it was Joran’s ring.