Temptation's Heat (4 page)

The fact that Scarlet was Ambrose’s daughter didn’t matter. He’d raised a hand to one of his brothers. And that just wasn’t acceptable.

“Come in.” The frail voice sounded from the other side of the door.

Rowen pushed it open. Whatever Ambrose said or did to him, Rowen would take it like a man. He’d reacted without thinking, something that shouldn’t surprise him. It’s not like he had a history of being calm, cool, or rational.

But he’d never lost control over a woman. Never.

Rowen closed the door behind him and stepped toward Ambrose’s desk. The light was fading on the other side of the curtained windows, and the room was dimly lit with only the desk lamps scattered across the desk and side tables.

“Ah, Rowen,” Ambrose said. “Thank you for joining us.”

Rowen stopped in his tracks. “Us?”

Ambrose nodded, lifting a hand to a chair near the corner. “Scarlet.”

Rowen’s head jerked up as Scarlet rose, her reluctance obvious. He wanted to be pissed after the way she’d treated him in the training room, but his eyes were a slave to every slow, sensuous step she took across the room.

“Please,” Ambrose gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, “sit.”

Rowen lowered himself slowly into one of the chairs. He avoided Scarlet’s eyes as she took the seat next to him.

“I have a special assignment for the two of you,” Ambrose said.

“An assignment?” Rowen was still waiting for a tongue-lashing.

“I need two people that I can trust.”

“But, Father,” Scarlet began, “Rowen has only been here a day and—”

Ambrose held up a hand to stop her. “Precisely why he is perfect for the job.”

“I’m at your service, sir.” Rowen had no idea what Ambrose was talking about, but at least he wasn’t being relieved of duty.

Ambrose shuffled some papers on his desk. “You’ve doubtless heard about Mikhail Krupin?”

“He was a member of the Guard who disappeared a few months back.”

“And?” Ambrose prodded.

Rowen hesitated. Kane had confided in him, but it seemed to be common knowledge that Mikhail was under suspicion at the time of his disappearance. “Rumor has it Mikhail might have had some association with the Legion,” Rowen said carefully.

Ambrose nodded. “We were in the process of verifying the accusation when Mikhail disappeared. And now, it seems the allegations are even more serious.”

“Is Mikhail back?” Rowen asked.

“I’m afraid not. But the body of one of the Legion’s revenants was found last night,” Ambrose said.

Rowen raised an eyebrow. “A revenant? Well, it couldn’t have been one of us. Killing one of them would be a violation of the Treaty.”

Scarlet crossed her legs, and Rowen had to fight not to look at the crease between her thighs. “Our source inside the Medical Examiner’s office found something that links it to us.”

“A piece of a glaive,” Ambrose explained quietly. “One of ours. We’ve checked them all. They’re intact. All but one of them.”

Scarlet’s expression was icy. “Except for yours. We haven’t checked yours yet.”

Rowen held her stare. Something unfamiliar wound its way through his stomach. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought it was shame. Shame that Scarlet Montgomery thought he was the kind of man who would violate the Treaty.

He stood and unsheathed his glaive. When it was firmly in his palm, he willed it open, the pendant around his neck growing warm as it channeled energy into the weapon. The small rod extended with a soft
whoosh
to its five-foot length. The tip, sharp and deadly, glistened in the dim light.

Ambrose stood unsteadily, reaching into the desk drawer and withdrawing an inflated ball. Rowen knew what it was, had used them for practice with the glaive since he’d first joined the Corp.

Ambrose tossed the ball toward him. It hadn’t yet hit the ground when Rowen pierced it with his glaive. The ball deflated, and a high-pitched ping sounded through the room as forty tiny points emerged from the glaive’s shaft. The design had been a century in the making, and it virtually insured death to the Legion if you could get the tip of the spear into their flesh.

After that, they were mincemeat.

Of course, the Legion had them, too. Which is how it always went.

Rowen handed the glaive over to Ambrose. His inspection was perfunctory.

“Thank you. We had to be sure,” he said. “You understand.”

Rowen nodded. “Of course.”

Ambrose sat down heavily. “So, then. The two of you will find out what you can about the glaive found in the revenant’s body. First and foremost, let’s confirm that’s even what it is. And of course, say nothing to anyone.” Ambrose looked at them both. “Not to anyone.”

Twelve

Scarlet walked swiftly through the halls, still fuming as she tried to keep her distance from Rowen. She’d begged her father to allow her to take Braden or Kane, but he had insisted that Rowen’s lack of history in the Guard made him perfect for the job. Scarlet had read between the lines; if someone had gone rogue by killing a revenant, Rowen wouldn’t let friendship stand in the way of turning him in.

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment all day? How mature,” Rowen drawled.

They reached for the back door at the same time. The warmth of Rowen’s hand seared her skin like a brand, and she pulled back as he held the door open, the now familiar surge of lust flooding her body.

She needed to get laid. And fast. It was the only explanation for the constant state of arousal she’d been in since Rowen Black had come to town.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” she said, heading for the old carriage house. “I just don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Because of what I did to Kane?” Rowen asked. She wondered if it was her imagination that there was regret in his sigh. “I’m sorry about that. I was out of line and I apologized.”

She stalked past the English roses that lined the pathway and the giant maple tree that shaded the patio. “That doesn’t make it okay. You’re lucky my father didn’t fire you on the spot.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“I have no idea,” Scarlet fumed. “He should have.”

A hand came down on her arm, stopping her forward motion. Rowen turned her to face him.

“He hurt you.” He said it simply, like it was the only thing that mattered.

“We were
sparring.
That’s how we train. You’re a veteran of the Corp. They can’t train that differently than we do.”

He crossed his muscular arms across the chiseled pectorals straining against the fabric of his t-shirt.

“You’re half his size,” he said stubbornly.

She wanted to be angry. To be so angry that there was no room for the other stuff building inside her. For the embarrassing thrill she felt at the protectiveness in his voice. At the idea that he had been worried about her.

Wait a minute … She didn’t want anyone to worry about her. Did she?

“You don’t think there are wraiths that big?” she shot at him. “You don’t think the Blackguard is that big? Bigger even? Everyone already treats me like a piece of glass they’re afraid to break.”

Rowen ducked his head in a gesture of resignation. “I’m sorry.” The words sounded strangled coming out of his throat, making it clear he did not say the words often. “It wasn’t my intent to make you look weak. I just … reacted. It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“So I’ve heard.” She sighed. “Come on. We should go.”

She flung open the carriage-house door, illuminating the dim interior with sunlight.

“What the …” Rowen said beside her.

The cars were lined up in three neat rows. One of the rows held SUVs, the other contained sedans and sports cars, and the third was all motorcycles.

He stepped toward the vehicles, running his hand along the hood of the black Audi R8, lurking at the front of the line like a sleeping beast.

“Unbelievable.” Rowen lifted his gaze, peering into the recesses of the carriage house. “How big is this place anyway?”

“Bigger than it looks,” Scarlet said. She walked to a lock box on the wall and took the keys to the R8. She tossed them to him. “Let’s go.”

Thirteen

The morgue was in the basement of Clifton General, a nondescript building constructed of beige brick back when there was still some hope that Clifton would become more than a defunct railroad town.

Rowen’s heart was still racing, the blood pumping erratically through his veins, when he pulled the car to a stop in the hospital parking lot. He didn’t know if his state of excitement was due to the sleek car in his hands or Scarlet sitting beside him, legs long and lean in tight jeans, her gorgeous green eyes hidden by a pair of oversized shades.

They locked the car and headed inside, descending to the basement in a dingy elevator that had seen better days. They were greeted by a bored attendant with thinning hair and a forehead the size of Texas.

“You know where you’re going, right?” he asked Scarlet after he’d signed them in.

“Yep, I’m good,” she said.

Rowen followed her to a room at the end of the hallway where a small, brown-skinned man was bent over a microscope at a steel table against the wall.

Scarlet approached him carefully. “Dipak?” she said softly.

He jerked up at the sound of her voice. His arm flew out, sending a tray of silver instruments crashing to the floor.

“Oh!” She got down on the floor to pick up the lost items. “I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet. I know how you get when you work.”

Rowen hurried to help her, trying to ignore the fact that her face was just inches from his, her mouth close enough to kiss.

They stood, handing over the glinting medical items.

“I was analyzing the sample taken from the revenant’s body,” Dipak said, depositing the instruments back on the tray.

Rowen raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t often he came across a civilian who knew about the workings of their world.

“Dipak’s mother was a descendant,” Scarlet explained when Rowen’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “He gives us information when we need it.”

“Here,” the man gestured at the telescope. “Take a look.”

Scarlet moved closer and peered into the instrument.

“Give your eyes time to adjust,” Dipak instructed.

“Damn …” She stepped back, gesturing for Rowen to look.

At first, all he could see was a shock of white with a smudge in the middle. He let his eyes rest on the image, waiting for it to coalesce into something that made sense. He saw it a moment later; the “V” of the sickle, intersected by the blade of the glaive, both against the backdrop of the flower of life.

It was a symbol of the Shadowguard.

He straightened; dread sinking like a stone in his stomach. “Shit.”

Dipak handed them both gloves. He reached under the microscope while they pulled the powdery latex over their hands and dropped something into Scarlet’s open palm.

“I don’t believe this.” She studied the object before handing it to Rowen.

The piece of metal was definitely a spear from a glaive. Not the big one at the end, but one of the smaller ones that emerged on impact, each of them engraved with the Guard’s symbol.

Rowen looked at her. “Mikhail?”

Her nod was reluctant. “Has to be. Everyone else’s weapons have checked out. No one’s missing a piece, and nothing new has been requisitioned from the armory.”

“Fuck.” It was only his second day on the job, and so far he’d exposed himself in front of the boss’s daughter, almost killed one of his brothers-in-arms, and landed an assignment that might end the Treaty that kept peace between the Alliance and the Legion.

Scarlet looked at Dipak. “Does the Legion know?”

He shook his head. “I can hold them off for a day or two, but there’s blood in the water. I can’t hide it for long.”

They said their goodbyes and she and Rowen walked in silence into the hallway. They weren’t even to the elevator when Scarlet turned to him.

“I need a drink. How about you?”

Fourteen

The last thing Scarlet needed was to get drunk with Rowen Black in a dimly lit bar.

But this was big. If the piece of glaive found in the revenant’s body was legit—and it looked like it was—everything the Shadowguard fought for was at risk. The Legion would use the broken Treaty as an excuse to go after mortals. All hell would break loose.

Scarlet didn’t want to announce that she’d been out drinking with Rowen by revving up to the carriage house after hours, so they took the Audi back to Shadowguard headquarters before heading to the Anti-Chamber. It was unsettling to realize that she liked the feel of Rowen walking next to her. She shoved her hands into her pockets, glad he wasn’t the talkative type.

The AC was packed, but they managed to find two seats at the end of the bar. Rowen gestured for beers and a moment later, Billy set two cold ones in front of them.

Rowen tipped his dripping bottle to Scarlet’s. “To figuring out what the fuck is going on.”

“Amen.” Scarlet clinked her bottle against his and took a drink.

“I don’t think you have to worry,” Rowen said after a couple of minutes.

She looked over at him. “About what?”

“About appearing weak.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she muttered, turning her attention to the label peeling from her beer bottle.

“Maybe,” he allowed. “But it’s true. The guys respect you. Admire you, even. I can see it on their faces. And Eva, too, I’m sure.”

She took a deep breath. “You might be right, but I can’t afford to drop my guard. Not unless I want the Alliance to bring in someone from the outside if my father … if he …”

“Hey …” Rowen’s voice was uncharacteristically tender. She avoided his eyes. “
Hey,
” he said again.

When she glanced up at him, he seemed to be looking right through her. She felt suddenly naked in front of him, and her heart picked up its pace, slamming against her chest as he held her gaze.

He took a drink of beer like a dying man slaking his thirst. She couldn’t take her eyes off his lips, could almost imagine the taste of his mouth.

“What about Ivan?” he asked, setting down his nearly-drained bottle.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Ivan doesn’t have a lot of fans.”