Body of the Crime (Blackest Gold Series Book 2) Page 5

  “Are you deaf?” Tensley spat, his eyes flickering at the movement.

  Evelyn smiled wickedly. “That’s not very nice, Tensley, and we’re supposed to play nice—both our daddies said so.”

  She moved closer to the desk and leaned across it, wiping something from Tensley’s cheek. The pad of her index finger came back red, the same crimson shade as her nail polish. “You love to make them bleed, don’t you, darling? I doubt your fiancée would approve. I don’t think she has a clue about what’s underneath your skin and bones. It’s pure venom.”

  He glared. “Don’t talk about her.”

  Evelyn’s demeanor shifted from flirtatious to brimming with malice. “No, I don’t think she’d like this version of you at all—this murderer, this psychopath—and she has no fucking clue.”

  He ground his teeth against Evelyn’s words, against the truth they held. He was a demon; he craved violence, reveled in sex. He enjoyed the sound of someone’s bones breaking beneath his hands like kindling.

  He could never be what Molly wanted in a husband. He knew what was underneath his appearance was poison. An ugly demon thirsty to mark Molly, he’d have to bite her, filling her with that vicious venom.

  Evelyn was practically levitating with victory. “But you see…I love that about you. I would love to watch you bash a demon hunter’s head in. It gets me hot just thinking about it…” Evelyn widened her stance the tiniest bit, one pale hand disappearing under the black fabric of her pencil skirt as she let out a moan.

  Tensley leapt from his chair and was by her side in an instant, shaking Evelyn so hard her teeth chattered. “Get to work, go stand somewhere else, go screw someone else—I don’t care; just get the fuck out of my sight.”

  He turned away from her, breathing hard, waiting for the sound of her departure.

  “I want to see Abaddon’s file.”

  His blood chilled and he twisted to look back at her. Only he and his father had seen the file; not even the board members had viewed its contents. “It’s confidential.”

  She was rubbing at a red mark already arising on her skin where he’d grabbed her. “I’ll get it somehow, beloved. Why not save me the trouble?”

  Because then you’ll know it was Molly and I who killed him, and then everyone would know.

  He swallowed, slowly eyeing her frame. “It’s never going to happen, Evelyn.”

  Her smugness was slowly returning; she’d been noticeably rattled by Tensley’s aggression, but any fear he’d inflicted was already evaporating. “I don’t understand why you’re protecting someone who willingly stabbed you in the back, Tensley.”

  Tensley swallowed—how the fuck does she know about that?

  “Oh yes, I’ve got my sources.” She pulled out a tube of red lipstick from her clutch and traced her supple lips once, then twice. “What I’m curious about is that demon hunter you’re torturing downstairs. How does he factor into all of this? Perhaps he’s the only one left who knows about her betrayal?”

  “He’s here because Lex is still missing.”

  Evelyn lowered the lipstick slowly. “Does he know where she is?”

  Tensley looked down. “I…I don’t know.”

  “I can help you,” she said after a beat, in a tone so genuine he gawked at her.

  “You? Want to help me? I’d have to be an absolute idiot to fall for that one.”

  Tensley turned, running his fingers through his wild hair. If Evelyn told his father—fuck, anyone—about Molly’s betrayal, he’d be dethroned, disowned, and excommunicated for having let her live even one more day.

  Just as Tensley opened the door to escape his spiteful ex, another nightmare blocked him from leaving: his father, Salvatore Knight, clad in one of his many Dolce & Gabbana suits, sporting a sour twist to his mouth.

  “Mr. Knight,” Evelyn said politely.

  “You’re dismissed,” came his reply.

  Evelyn gave a small nod of submission and slipped out, leaving Tensley alone with the only other person he despised as much as her.

  “I’m going to be late,” Tensley said when Mr. Knight shut the door. “I have lunch with Mom at Café du Soleil.”

  “She can wait.”

  Tensley scowled; he didn’t like the idea of his mother standing in the scorching heat of Manhattan looking for him. “But—”

  “Tensley,” his father barked. “There are more important issues at hand. Another soldier is missing.”

  TENSLEY’S STOMACH DROPPED. “Another?”

  “Our men have become careless,” Mr. Knight responded. “Too wild, too cavalier.”

  Tensley cleared his throat, preparing for the worst. So far those who’d been kidnapped were men he’d never known personally; that could only go on for so long. “Who was it?”

  “Gabel Eastwood.”

  The utterance struck Tensley deep in his chest. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, finding the nearest chair in his office to slump into.

  His father was silent for a moment, giving Tensley time to process the news. “I know you two were close growing up.”

  Gabel Eastwood had been the only person—besides Illya—to continue speaking to Tensley after the news of Beau’s betrayal surfaced. When Tensley was getting his ass beat by his brother growing up, Gabel was the one schoolmate who showed genuine concern when he returned every September with new scars.

  Gabel was a good demon, with a compassionate heart—as compassionate as they were allowed to have, anyway—and now he’d been captured by a group of lunatics who’d undoubtedly do torturous things to him.

  “When did this happen?” Tensley managed to say, rising from the chair with renewed strength. “We need to send out a search party immediately.”

  Mr. Knight shook his head. “We can’t tell anyone about this yet. If Ares catches wind of another kidnapping, the whole deal might fall through.”

  “What?” Tensley yelled, incredulous. “We need to notify the battalion, we need to get the word out—”

  “Not until negotiations are complete. They’ve only agreed to this because they see no other way, Tensley; we cannot alert them to any sort of weakness on our end.”

  Tensley dug his nails into his palms and glared at his father. “I will gather a search party. A small one,” he added at Mr. Knight’s expression. “Lex is still out there, and I’m not giving up on them.”

  Mr. Knight squinted at Tensley, clearly disgusted. “You’re weak, just like the partners said. Fine—get it out of your system before you’re the Dux, or you won’t last more than a month leading Scorpios. You have four weeks.”

  As soon as Mr. Knight left the room, Tensley found every breakable object in his office and shattered them against the wall.

  THE AVENUE WAS packed with tourists, swarming the city with their fanny packs to take selfies in the smoldering heat.

  Tensley sat outside Café du Soleil, perched on an uncomfortable iron chair that dug into his thighs and ass cheeks. Sweat trickled down his furrowed brow. Across from him sat the devil herself: his sister, Gabriella.

  He wanted to be anywhere but there. He had a fucking mountain of problems to deal with, and lunch dates with his mother and sister were rather low on his list of priorities, but Mrs. Knight had always been very persistent, would never let him pass up one of these lunches. So there he was, forced to breathe the same air as his horrendous sister as they waited for their mother to return from the restroom.

  Gabriella hummed as she sipped her water—“Two lemons, and could you make sure it’s three-quarters of the way filled with ice?”—and glared again at Tensley’s rocks glass filled two fingers’ worth with Jameson whiskey. He couldn’t even imagine how she’d survived one pregnancy without a drop of alcohol—his eyes dropped to her current bump—let alone the second one currently happening.

  “Already into the hard stuff, brother?” She shook her head. “That daemon’s driving you to day-drinking.”

  He rubbed his temples and decided to focus on the blaring traffic
until his mother the peacekeeper came back.

  He’d rather be breaking that hunter’s other hand right now. According to the soldier in charge, he still hadn’t confessed a damn thing.

  Gabriella snickered beside him, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to his nerves.

  His eyes shot to her. “What?”

  “Oh nothing,” she said, stroking her belly. “I just enjoy seeing you in pain.”

  He gripped his glass more tightly and bared his teeth. “I find it hard to believe you enjoy anything, Gabriella, especially with that stick up your ass…” He smiled faintly. “Unless you like that, too.”

  Gabriella slammed her glass onto the table so hard a lemon wedge sloshed out. “You little—”

  “The people are always so lovely here,” Mrs. Knight suddenly said, high heels clicking on the oak floor of the restaurant.

  Because they know who we are and what we’re capable of, Mother.

  Mrs. Knight joined them at the table, smoothing out her pink summer dress before focusing her large brown eyes on her children.

  “So why, exactly, did you invite me here?” Tensley said, placing a cream-colored linen napkin in his lap.

  Mrs. Knight looked at him with adoration, either ignoring his sarcasm or missing it altogether. “I just thought the three of us could catch up. With Beau still out of town and the twins in Europe, I thought it would be nice to see my two kids who are still in the city.”

  Tensley and Gabriella exchanged a look.

  “How’s Chuck? And my little baby Donovan?” Mrs. Knight cooed as if her first and only grandchild currently sat on her lap and she was pinching his chubby cheeks.

  Tensley’s mother was so calm and sweet for a demon. Too sweet, some would say. His father made up for it, though.

  Gabriella gave Mrs. Knight a sober look. “Chuck’s been busy at the bank. Fallen’s very pleased with his work and mentioned him taking over the Bank of the High Court here in Manhattan. And Donovan’s fine for a five-year-old,” she said, peering over her drink at Tensley. “He misses you.”

  Tensley took another sip of his whiskey to wash away the guilt. He loved the kid, but it was still too hard to be around Gabriella more than a few times a year. Every comment she made was an insult, a jab at his character, and a constant warning not to turn out like their older brother.

  He honestly didn’t know what the nice, albeit bland Chuck saw in his bitch of a sister.

  Mrs. Knight fidgeted with her wedding ring, a very similar design to the one Molly wore. “Your father told me what happened last night.”

  Tensley gritted his teeth. “Can’t people stay the hell out of my business?”

  “Maybe if you followed tradition and actually slept with your fiancée, people wouldn’t have to concern themselves!” Gabriella shouted with a rotten smirk.

  “Stay out of this,” Tensley said, nostrils flaring.

  Mrs. Knight scowled. “Stop it! Both of you.”

  Tensley sat back in his chair and clenched his jaw, focusing on the din of other diners and clinking glassware to calm his anger.

  Mrs. Knight sighed. “I understand the gravity of the situation, but Tensley, darling…” She took his hand, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the smoothness of it. She had a mother’s hands, warm and comforting and softer than any other. “If you do not…protect her in the only way we—demons—can, then her life is in danger.”

  Tensley’s gaze dropped to Mrs. Knight’s neck, where a shadow was the only sign of her mark, a collar formed there by his father, a sign of unity and protection. The second his eyes caught sight of the shadow, his own desire to mark Molly grew, his demon side stirring, pushing to control him. He so badly wanted to see her wearing his mark, but he shook himself out of it.

  He shifted away, removing his hand gently from his mother’s grasp. “I’m figuring it out, Mom. I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got it under control. Excuse me.”

  He pushed his chair back with a screech and left the café to set off down the avenue, the scorching sun at his back. The last thing he needed right then was another talk from someone about sleeping with Molly. He needed to work it out with her, to try to make her understand that if they did this, there’d be no going back.

  “Maybe…” Tensley said aloud, dodging a speeding taxi in a crosswalk. Maybe she should be with someone else first. She was only nineteen with no past significant relationships with any men he knew of, and he was twenty-eight. At least if Molly were able to experience what it was like to be with a loving, warm, affectionate human man, she’d have that memory to cherish on those nights when she was stuck in Tensley’s arms.

  He could even let her take lovers throughout their marriage if it would make her happy. The notion made him sick beyond belief, but if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he’d never be able to offer Molly what she deserved.

  He was withdrawn. Cold. Emotionless. A beast.

  He was heartless—and he had to remain that way.

  “SO I COULD go to Paris for three weeks? All paid? To work at the Louvre?” Molly gripped the chair to keep from collapsing. Excited didn’t even begin to cover how she felt about the opportunity.

  She’d dreamt of working at the Louvre since she was little, imagining how she’d walk from one hall to another, admiring priceless paintings and thousands of rare treasures made by the hands of visionaries.

  “We will be working with Columbia to sponsor a few students for a trip out there, yes,” Mr. Cho said as he handed her the pile of paperwork. “I strongly encourage you to apply.”

  Molly gathered it messily in her shaky arms. “I could hug you right now!” she squealed.

  Mr. Cho jolted, surprised by the volume of her shriek, perhaps.

  “But I won’t, of course. Because that would be very, very unprofessional,” Molly continued, backing away down the hall. “Thank you so much, Mr. Cho. Thank you for your consideration!”

  He smiled kindly and she excused herself, rushing through the empty halls with a massive grin. It was late again, so late that the security had asked her to leave. That was nothing new; she and the overnight security guard, Carl, were now on a first-name basis.

  Something dark and luxurious caught Molly’s eye as she shoved the papers into her purse—Tensley’s tie, the one she’d found tucked between the couch cushions from their little sleepover the evening before.

  She paused outside on the museum steps. She could go home, maybe drop it off in the morning…

  Screw it. She was in a good mood and felt like seeing him.

  Molly took off down the stairs and onto Fifth Avenue. She eyed his tall, art deco-styled building from two blocks away and dismissed the nerves twisting in her stomach.

  It’ll just be a quick hello and goodbye. Nothing serious.

  She walked into the white-and-gold mirrored lobby and smiled at the doorman, Sebastian, before entering the elevator. As she walked down the hall to his door, Molly forced herself to take slow, measured steps, and timed her breathing to them.

  In, out. In, out. He’ll be happy to see you. Maybe.

  She swallowed and stopped in front of the white door, one detailed with crown molding that must’ve been an original feature of the building.

  She rapped twice, fidgeting with the simple black tie in her hands. Once a minute passed, Molly frowned. Maybe he’s out?

  When she turned to go, the door whooshed open and Tensley stood there, brow wrinkled in confusion. “Molly?”

  Simply hearing the sound of his hoarse, low voice sent delightful shivers down her spine.

  “Is something wrong?” he continued, eyes narrowing.

  Molly mustered a shaky grin and moved closer. “Oh, no—I was just in the area and figured I’d return this, found it in my couch cushions.” She showed him the tie as evidence.

  Tensley straightened and stared at the tie, his features slowly smoothing out. “You came to my apartment to return my tie?” He couldn’t make this easier on her, now, could he?
He was clearly enjoying her discomfort. The bastard.

  Molly flushed. “Um, well…” She swallowed. “Yeah?”

  His answering smirk sent her hormones racing, and she wondered what he might do if she just leaned across the threshold and attacked him with kisses.

  “If I invite you inside, do you promise you won’t stab me in the back again?” he said.

  The heat scorched her hairline and she could only manage a soft nod. They’d both been thinking about her attacking him, just not the same kind of attack, she realized with a sour laugh. He won’t ever let that one go…

  Would he ever trust her? What would she have to do to earn his trust back?

  She didn’t know, and that frustrated her to no end.

  But she’d find a way.

  As their shoulders touched, they both tensed up—it was like being zapped with a hundred bolts of electricity.

  Molly looked up into Tensley’s hooded eyes, then down to his slightly parted lips. He looked rabid, and she was instantly nervous about trying to handle such sexual energy.

  “Molly,” he whispered, but she was already in the apartment, hurrying to the kitchen where she could decompress. She turned the faucet on and splashed some cool water on her cheeks and neck, surveying the familiar marble countertops, white backsplash, and stainless steel appliances. The heady scent of Indian food—curry and lemongrass—piqued her appetite, and she located several takeout containers nearby. She folded the tie neatly and placed it beside the espresso machine.

  “Molly?” Tensley repeated, now standing right behind her.

  Her limbs went rigid, another series of fantasies running rampant through her consciousness: clothes being torn off, mouths and tongues intermingling, their bodies moving together as one—

  She spun, wringing her hands together. “How often do we need to be intimate for you to stay healthy?”

  He was just as surprised by the statement as she was, based on the speed with which his eyebrows rose. “You really want to negotiate how much we’re intimate?”