Читать книгу A Hunter Under The Mistletoe - Addison Fox - Страница 11
ОглавлениеEvangeline traced and retraced her steps, searching for anything that might prove there was a fire in the area in front of the greenhouse. Yet no matter how hard she searched, each blade of grass was as pristine and green as the one next to it.
She knew horticulture. And the earth. And how the soil nurtured what grew within it. Fire was a natural form of renewal, even with the immediate destruction it left in its path.
But she also knew herself. She trusted her instincts and she sure as hell trusted her eyes.
And last night she saw a man burning in this very spot.
Yet Rafe Stavros stood there this morning, plain as day, and told her nothing had happened the night before on the property.
Was he hiding something? She’d spent her life in Las Vegas and was well aware of the city’s more seedy reputation. More than a few had lost their souls in the desert—gambling was a gateway to any number of crimes. While she’d always believed she worked for one of the more honest and upstanding employers on the Strip, it was always possible the Stavros family was into any number of poor practices.
“What are you doing out here?”
Evangeline popped back on her heels as the low voice washed over her from behind. “Checking the grass.”
“For?”
She thrust her chin out and stared up at him. “Signs of burn marks.”
“Find any?”
“No.”
It shocked her how defeated she felt. She knew what she’d seen, damn it. A man stood in this very spot the night before, on fire. People didn’t just imagine those things.
Even if your mother had?
The small voice whispered through her mind, as scary as it was real. Her memories might be that of a child’s, but Evangeline could still remember the sleepless nights as her mother descended into madness.
“Come with me.” Rafe stood above her, his hand extended. She took in those long, tapered fingers, the strength in them evident as she accepted what he offered.
“Where are we going?”
“For reasons that elude me, you seem offended when I suggest you’re working too hard.”
“I most certainly am no—” Her words—and the corresponding tug of her hand against his—were cut off as Rafe pulled her against his body.
A reply died in her throat as she took in the hard, firm lines of Rafael Stavros. Absorbed them, really. Although she’d—reluctantly—had more than a few thoughts about that body pressed against hers, she couldn’t deny the raw power she felt in the thick musculature beneath that finely cut suit.
Oh, what would it be like to simply stay there, wrapped in the protection of that large, powerful body? He channeled it well, his physicality. Wielded it as easily as he wore five-thousand-dollar suits and several generations of Stavros wealth.
Rafe moved through the gentle swish of electronic doors, the cool, refined air of the hotel wafting over them. His feet echoed on the thick marble floor, a sound of purpose and power, while her sneakers thunked and squeaked beside him. It was only when they reached the entrance to the spa that Evangeline registered their destination.
“What are you doing?”
“You need some rest and relaxation. As luck would have it, I can provide both.”
“I’m not going in there.”
“You afraid of a little massage oil?” The question was flat—bland, even—but Evangeline didn’t miss the unholy light that flared in his gaze. The normal storm-cloud gray had turned a liquid silver, tempting and oh so tantalizing as they stood in the entrance of the spa.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then after you.”
He gestured her forward and she had the choice to stay stubbornly still or nod and move forward.
“Mr. Stavros.” The woman who headed up the spa—Madelina, Evangeline remembered—came up to them immediately. Her gaze showed nothing but Evangeline couldn’t quite squelch the urge to hide her dirt-stained hands behind her back. “How can I be of help today?”
“My friend here needs the full spa package.”
Madelina’s gaze shifted to assessing, scouring Evangeline head to toe, before she gave a solid nod. “Hot stone massage. Ninety minutes. Facial. Manicure. Pedicure. With paraffin, of course.”
“Of course,” Rafe added, his voice solemn, even if that light in his eyes remained stubbornly, wickedly, bright.
“I don’t need any of this. And I certainly don’t need goop on my fingers when all I’m going to do is shove them right back into the dirt.”
She held out her hands proudly, trying to prove her point when Madelina’s elegant fingers wrapped around hers, stilling Evangeline’s movements. “Then it’s all the more important to protect your greatest asset.”
“Call me when she’s finished.” Rafe bit out the edict before turning on his heel.
Although it nearly killed her, Evangeline threw her last card. “I don’t have the money for this.”
Rafe barely gave her a backward glance. “Then it’s good you know the owner. I’ve got plenty.”
Rafe flipped through the file he maintained on Evangeline. He managed the materials himself, unwilling to go through the security team on the details of her or her background.
Orphaned at seven.
Bumped to several foster homes before declaring as an emancipated minor at sixteen.
Worked multiple jobs after that, including a flower shop in Henderson, a crummy little casino barely making it down on Fremont, and wedding bouquets for a nearby chapel.
“Doesn’t let any grass grow under her feet,” he muttered, an image of her doing just that filling his mind’s eye. She wasn’t going to give up on her supposed man on fire and he damn well knew a few hours of spa time wasn’t going to change that.
Rafe continued scanning the file, his careful notes an accompaniment to the various pieces of intel he’d gathered over the past year. Her background had been surprisingly easy to uncover, even with his ability to get details on most anyone he wanted. There was easy and then there was easy, and Evangeline fell into the latter category.
And what he’d learned during that investigation had stopped him cold.
Her father had been a Hunter, focused in and around Las Vegas for the legion of Chaos-seekers who hunted Rafe and his people, the Helios. Their age-old enemies, the Hunters believed eradicating the Helios would unleash their master—Chaos—on the world.
As with most things with the ancients, life was never that easy, and modern times brought modern challenges. There was plenty of chaos in the twenty-first century world, and Rafe doubted some epic battle with a band of zealots would change that much.
None of it changed the fact he and his people were hunted. Plotted against. And constantly under threat.
Was it possible Evangeline was one of them?
The bio had been straightforward and bleak—Hank Kennedy had drifted in and out of jail throughout his late twenties and early thirties before turning his skills and his loyalty toward the Las Vegas area’s corps of Hunters. A suspicious fight in the desert late one night hadn’t ended well for Hank or a fellow addict and he’d left his wife and child alone and destitute.
Nothing about the intel had sat well and Rafe had kept a purposeful distance from Evangeline over the past year, in favor of watching and monitoring her. Other than their bimonthly meetings to discuss the property, he avoided contact with her.
And had been more than surprised to see she kept to herself, worked like she had no life outside the casino and generally flew under the radar.
Until last night.
Damn, why had he waited when he knew his Rejuvenation was upon him?
Rafe’s head snapped up at the hard slam of his door. Gabe crossed the plush carpet soundlessly, even as his large frame quivered in agitated, restless motion. “You burned in front of her?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t screw with me. Last night. Evangeline Kennedy saw you? Midtransformation?”
He never lied to his brother, but the anger and frustration laser-focused on him was barely an adequate mirror for his own shame and embarrassment. Hell, he hadn’t lost control like that since he was fourteen and coming into his power.
“Yes.”
“Mind telling me why you were hanging around, full well knowing you were running hot?”
“I had a meeting that ran late.”
His brother slashed a hand through the air. “No excuse.”
“It is when you’re courting three foreign whales with several whale friends back home.”
Gabe snorted, clearly unconvinced, even with Rafe’s argument about squiring several high rollers around the property. “It’s careless and unnecessary. Since when are you the only one who can court high-end guests and build relationships?”
“I needed to check them out. See for myself. We know Hunter activity increases near the solstice, and something about the one guy’s backstory didn’t check out.”
“So you went in alone?”
“I’m never alone in here and the high-roller room has more attention than most.”
“The private villas don’t.” Gabe dug his phone out. “It’s careless.”
“It’s necessary.”
When Gabe said nothing, Rafe knew he’d hit a nerve. Rafe trusted his brother, more than anyone in the world, but he couldn’t stand by and ignore an opportunity to get the upper hand on a band of Hunters, especially so close to the solstice. The possibility of a rogue with money would be a danger beyond measure.
Besides, his damn Rejuvenation wasn’t supposed to happen then. It was nearly a month until the winter solstice and he’d been rejuvenating like clockwork since puberty.
Vernal equinox, summer solstice, autumnal equinox, winter solstice. His body regenerated then, not nearly a freaking month early.
“Guy ultimately checked out?”
Rafe shook off the lingering discomfort of his early change and gave Gabe his full attention. “Yeah. Charlie texted me the moment he had confirmation the guy was legit. I glad-handed him a bit more, offered him an extra night in the villa and hauled ass out of there.”
“You didn’t haul fast enough.”
No, he hadn’t. He’d considered letting himself into the villa next door and waiting out the burn but they were full up, the Archangel’s reputation ensuring all the rooms were accounted for. He and Gabe had taken their father’s life’s work and upped the ante. The hotel rooms were spoken for nearly every night and they had a list of high rollers the rest of the Strip envied.
Who would have believed success was so damned inconvenient?
“We’ve gone this long without discovery. Your life—all our lives—are worth more than one more high roller wasting his fortune at our gaming tables.”
Rafe rarely apologized but his brother hit a nerve. A fair one at that. “Look. I get it and I’m sorry. I’ve been tired and the moment hit me hard. I thought I had more time.”
A small grin finally curved his brother’s lips. “Losing your control, big brother?”
A few choice expletives bubbled to the surface but Rafe opted against the grain. He’d managed to blow over his brother’s bad mood, he might as well use it to his advantage. “You talk to Pop lately?”
“He and mom are still lounging around the Côte d’Azur and last I heard he was raising hell with the management at Monte Carlo’s casinos.”
“They let him back in?”
“Some sort of royal decree. I suspect the prince is sorry he got suckered in by the charms of one Michael Stavros.”
“Once a gambling man…” Rafe left the words hanging there, an image of his father giving instruction on the latest security protocols falling on some severely irritated Monegasque ears.
“Old man’s not settling into retirement well.”
“Are you surprised?”
“Nah.” Gabe shuddered. “Claims he’d be better at it if he had grandchildren.”
A wholly unexpected image of Evangeline rose up in his mind’s eye. She was absolutely unsuitable—she was an employee with a highly suspicious lineage—but Rafe couldn’t fully ignore the hot rush of need that accompanied the vision. “He can keep wishing.”
“You put Evangeline off?”
“Not dropping this one?”
Gabe smiled, the grin bordering on feral. “Not a chance.”
“The woman knows her mind and isn’t willing to be put off. I’ve got her down in the spa now, giving her the royal treatment and attempting to convince her she’s been working too hard.”
“Having any luck?”
“We’ll see in about two hours after Madelina’s team works on her.” Rafe stood from his desk, tapping the file folder that had already worn around the edges. “Of all the damn people.”
“Why?”
He and Gabe were as close as brothers could be, but he’d kept this from him. Kept the quiet knowledge to himself about Evangeline’s background and parentage. On a hard breath, he snagged the folder and handed it to his brother.
Gabe took the offering, his ability to quickly assess a situation more than evident when he snapped the folder closed a few moments later. “She’s a Hunter?”
“The daughter of one.”
“We’ve had a freaking Hunter on property for damn near a year and this is the first you’ve told me?”
He rarely second-guessed himself, but one look at Gabe’s face had Rafe reconsidering. “I’ve been watching her.”
“We could all have been watching her. Or better yet—” Gabe threw the folder on the desk. “We could have let her go on her merry freaking way and avoided hiring her in the first place.”
“She’s good. Her installations alone have increased foot traffic by thirty percent.”
Gabe stiffened up at that, straightening to his full height. “First the whales and now this? This place is our sanctuary. Have you forgotten that?”
“I’ve forgotten nothing.”
“Then how can you ignore the fact the woman’s dangerous? To us. Our way of life. Our people.”
An image of that long, lithe form curled up inspecting the grass outside filled his head. Was she seeking proof? Attempting to set a trap? Or was it something else?
Rafe hadn’t sensed malice in her. More, she had an aching vulnerability about her that called to some strange, empty place deep inside of him.
Orphan.
Emancipated minor.
Workhorse.
None of those images matched with the sullen, disillusioned cadre normally drafted into the Hunters’ midst. Chaos thrived on the weak-minded and the easily swayed.
Evangeline Kennedy was neither.
“We got the intel on the two men she fired yesterday.”
Rafe knew his brother and there was no way he was dropping the subject of Evangeline anytime soon. But there was something underneath the comment that slashed through Rafe’s thoughts. “And?”
“They’re Hunters. My team’s tracked them back to a flophouse on the outskirts of Henderson. I’m headed there tonight.”
“I’ll join you.”
“Save it. You need to keep your focus here.”
“You won’t keep me out of this.”
“Then get your damn head in the game. She comes from the line of people determined to expose us and slaughter us all.”
“The Hunters are minions of Chaos. We’ve yet to narrow in on a leader. We’ve dealt with them before and we’ll deal with them again.”
“He’s here. I can feel it. Know it. There’s been too much static lately. Too many close calls.” Gabe dropped onto the edge of Rafe’s desk. “Don’t tell me you can’t feel it?”
Rafe shook his head, suddenly unwilling to put voice to the feeling. He understood Gabe’s point—had felt the same raw energy swirling around the casino and their people—but kept pushing against it, unwilling to act rashly.
He was the methodical Stavros, while Gabe had their father’s brash, devil-may-care attitude in spades. They complemented each other—they always had—so why were they so far apart on this? Rash action threatened their secrets, but so did ignorance. And it was time he remembered that.
Especially now that Evangeline had seen him take his true form.
And, by all accounts, was determined to understand what it all meant.
While she was still irritated at Rafe’s heavy-handed behavior, dragging her from the lawn and pushing her into a series of spa appointments, Evangeline had to admit the man had a point.
A great point.
If she could put together a coherent thought to remember just how great his point really was.
Relaxation! That was it. He’d been on her, stressing the importance of taking some time for herself and not working too hard.
Firm hands slid up and down her spine, kneading muscles and loosening knots she didn’t even know she had. The massage was the coup de grâce in an afternoon full of rest, relaxation and a significant amount of pampering. A facial. A manicure and pedicure. And some amazing thing with hot rocks that should have burned like crazy but instead, managed to loosen her muscles even more than they already were.
Why didn’t she do this for herself?
The question began as an abstract cloud, floating through her mind, but something about it stilled, expanding in her thoughts.
Why didn’t she do this more often? She wasn’t poor any longer. Far from it, in fact. The Archangel paid her a generous salary for the work she did across the property. She didn’t live extravagantly, her one-bedroom apartment more than enough room for the amount of time she spent there. And working on-property gave her a discount on the spa services.
So why not do this for herself?
Instead, she hoarded her hard-earned income as if she were still shivering and cold, hoping her parents would stop fighting or—worse—praying for the noise when their apartment got so quiet she could hear her own breath. She’d huddle in those moments, her parents’ normally volatile state hushed by whatever drug her father had managed to score that day.
“Miss Kennedy?”
The soft voice pulled her from the dismal memories, the hand on her spine gentle. “Hmm?”
“The treatment is complete. Feel free to stay and relax a bit longer. I’ve left some water on the counter.”
“Thank you.”
Hesitant to let the dreamy state end, Evangeline lay there a few more moments after the door clicked on a quiet close. Try as she might, she couldn’t fully bring back that delicious dream state. Instead, those memories of her parents peeked in, pressing against the edges of her memory with all the finesse of an attack dog.
Her father’s addiction. Her mother’s equally helpless outlook on life. And the loss of both of them by the time she was seven.
“Miss Kennedy.” The knock was soft, yet insistent and Evangeline sat up, pulling the sheet tight around herself.
“Come in.”
Madelina bustled in, her elegant form somehow softened in the muted light and calming music. Where she’d initially seen a militant effectiveness shining in the woman’s eyes before, Evangeline had to admit three hours of pampering had softened the edges of her vision. Madelina had gone from dragon to fairy godmother and she gave her a big smile. “Hello.”
“It looks like my team did their job.”
“They were wonderful.” Evangeline glanced down at her toes where her legs swung against the table. “I even have red toes.”
“Enough to drive a man wild.”
“I’m not… I mean.”
Madelina patted her arm. “It’s always good to be prepared.”
The woman seemed to understand she had nothing to say and bustled on. “Have you had your water?” When she eyed the glass still on the counter, she picked it up and marched it over. “It’s essential to hydrate. Drink up. Then you’ll come with me.”
The cool water, tinged with the refreshing taste of cucumber, was fresh on her tongue as she drank.
“You enjoyed the treatments?”
“I did.” Evangeline set her glass of water down, abstractly wondering if she’d ever tasted anything so good.
“Excellent. Because I’ve made a standing appointment for you monthly.”
“I don’t—” Evangeline broke off, not sure why she was arguing. She’d had a similar thought herself, so why be irritated when someone else did the kindness for her? And yet…
“Mr. Stavros has added it to your employment package.”
That urge to argue flared once more, even if Madelina was simply the messenger, but the woman held up a hand to forestall her.
“Mr. Stavros insists. Spa treatments aren’t simply a frivolity. You’re a woman who works with your body on a regular basis. It’s important to keep it finely tuned.”
“I can pay for it myself.”
Madelina cocked her head, those eyes sharp. Once again, the fleeting image of a dragon floated through Evangeline’s mind before vanishing. “But why do so when your employer presents you with such generosity?”
“It’s frivolous.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, either.” Handing over a fresh glass of water, Madelina pointed to the door. “Drink this, then join me in the salon. Berta will direct you once you leave the room.”
Evangeline watched her go, the conversation unsettling on several levels. She wanted the treatments—had thought that very thing as she lay there, soft and warm and boneless from an awesome massage.
So why complain when it was offered as a job perk?
An image of Rafael Stavros filled her mind’s eye, in clear answer to the question.
Tall and dark, the man was a walking, talking version of sin in the flesh. Mercurial gray eyes. Thick, dark hair. Chiseled features and a body that made her fingers itch. She’d never been a woman to ignore her body’s needs, but she’d also never understood the extremes people went to for attraction.
Rafe Stavros tossed that thought right out his penthouse window. The man was lethally sexy and equally formidable in his business. His father had established a successful casino whose business he and his brother had only shot into the stratosphere. From high-end restaurants to Broadway shows to a casino floor that boasted just enough winners to keep the tables packed, the Archangel had become a must-see destination on the Strip.
And she was part of it.
Draining the rest of her water, Evangeline hopped off the table and stretched like a cat. She hadn’t felt this loose-limbed in oh…about forever.
“So what are you complaining about?”
As she caught sight of herself in the small mirror over the treatment room’s sink, Evangeline had to admit to herself she had no answer.
As the original founder of the Archangel, Michael Stavros had a firm policy. Hire good people and leave them alone to do good work. If you found a gem, you had to respect their genius and leave them alone to do their best work in their own way. Alternatively, if you ended up hiring someone who was lazy, stupid or worse, both—fire their ass on the spot.
Although he and Gabe hadn’t adopted every practice their father employed in his own brand of management, some rules of business were immutable.
Hiring good people was essential.
It was why he’d been so drawn to Evangeline. Her work—and her passion and enthusiasm for that work—had stood out above all else. It had him hiring her on the spot and it had been the thing that kept her on staff even after he discovered her past. If the woman was a Hunter, she was a damn fine actress.
Because in nearly a year, all he’d ever observed was a woman obsessed with the look and feel of his property and very little focus on anything else.
Madelina interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Stavros. The things you requested are ready.”
“And Evangeline?”
“She’ll be out momentarily.” Madelina hesitated for the briefest moment—at odds with her normally tart tongue—and Rafe’s gaze sharpened on her.
“Yes?”
“She enjoyed the day. Told me as much.”
That hesitation remained and Rafe couldn’t resist probing further. “But?”
“I believe she’s a bit perturbed at the generous monthly addition to her compensation plan.”
“Is she now?”
Madelina only nodded, and he couldn’t hide his broad smile, already anticipating the battle that was sure to ensue.
“Madelina!” Evangeline’s voice echoed from the other side of the door to the interior of the spa moments before the thick oak swung inward. “What is this?”
Evangeline blew through the door, a goddess in full pique, her hands full of dresses. Her hair was pulled back from her face, sticking up at odd angles from the massage. Her face glowed a high pink—heightened by her anger but still rosy from her facial—and the sexiest toes he’d ever seen peeped out from beneath a long spa robe.
“You look well.”
Evangeline shook the dresses at him as Madelina slipped out through the still-swinging door. “Where are my clothes?”
“Laundry, I presume.”
“They were nice clothes. And clean.”
“Now they’ll be cleaner.”
Evangeline tossed the handful of silks onto a nearby couch. “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself. Taking care of myself. Sleeping when I want, working when I want. I do damn fine living my life.”
“What’s wrong with someone showing you some kindness?” Rafe asked.
“Kindness is a day off. Not spa treatments and expensive dresses.” Evangeline bent down and snagged one of the dresses. The move tugged the bodice of her robe ever so slightly and Rafe got a glimpse of tanned skin, tapering into the slope of one breast.
Catching his eye, she snapped the robe closed as she tossed the garment his way. “This is a thousand-dollar dress.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze flicking briefly to the fabric before taking in the thick, schlumpy fit of the robe. Even covered in acres of terry cloth, she was a vision. “I don’t see a tag.”
“I’ve seen it in the boutique window for a month. I know how much it costs.”
“So you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s yours.”
She shook the dress at him. “What is wrong with you?”
“We have a strict dress code at Flame. Since we’ve got reservations this evening I figured you’d like something to wear.”
“I have clothes. Good ones that are more than acceptable for Flame. And—” She broke off, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not going with you to the casino’s steak house.”
“We’ve got business to discuss.”
“Then we can go to your office.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re mad.”
“And you’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met.” Rafe moved in, the lingering wash of lavender and jasmine from her treatments assaulting his senses. “Most women like spa days. And new clothes. And nice dinners.”
“As a date, maybe. Not with their employer.”
“I can’t show you gratitude for the work you’ve done?”
“A thank-you is fine.”
Rafe took another step closer, those scents fading as something distinctly Evangeline rose up through the lingering effects of a day of pampering. Something earthy and natural, like the air after a rain or the bright scent of rebirth after he regenerated.
With gentle movements, as if a sudden motion would startle her, he pressed his lips to her ear. “Well, then. Thank you.”
