Page 6 of The Brave (Black Arrowhead #6)

A tticus reclined in his desk chair while reflecting on the evening. He had instructed his employees to put Joy’s face to memory. If she ever returned, he wanted to know so he could provide her with everything she desired despite her protest about special treatment. The best food, the best drinks, the best table, the best security.

When she had asked the bartender for caviar, it had given Atticus a pang of regret. He left luxury items off the menu to cater to the locals, who didn’t have refined palates. Instead, he focused on hearty meals and desserts that were easy to stock.

Early that evening, while conversing with an acquaintance, it startled him when he overheard the silver-haired woman encouraging Joy to date other men at the bar. Atticus had been enamored by Joy since he first laid eyes on her, but it wasn’t just her looks that held his interest. She was compassionate and devoted to her pack. Her laugh tugged at his heart, and her anger made him want to punish everyone who had wronged her.

While tapping his pen against the notepad, he thought about how her attention had always been focused on the women in her group. Maybe she had trust issues with men.

And why shouldn’t she? On two different occasions in his club alone, she had been assaulted. The predatory behavior exhibited by men in her presence incensed him. They were ensnared by more than just her beauty, and hers was incomparable. It was her aura—her spirit—which shone brighter than most. But that same light attracted deviants. Atticus felt a heavy responsibility to ensure the safety of all his patrons, but most especially the women. Knowing that a woman had been victimized in his establishment triggered him.

Atticus scribbled on his notepad, his thoughts racing out of control. In his three thousand years of living, he had seen everything, experienced everything, and lost everything—including himself. A simple job working at a bakery had made him feel human again. Others said it was beneath a man of his age and money, but immersing himself in the lives of Shifters and their families—watching their children grow—had reignited his passion for life. Not only had he cleaned and prepped in that bakery, but eventually he learned to bake. Seeing people smile and enjoy something he had made with his own hands humbled him.

Not enough to start his own bakery though. But he did learn a lot about operating a business in the modern world.

In order to secure their future, immortals had to continually build their wealth. With his newfound business experience, he chose to open a club in a small town where there wouldn’t be competition. Plenty of Shifters lived in and around Storybook, but so did immortals who wanted to break away from city life. Once word got out, people visited his club from neighboring towns. They also got occasional visitors from Austin, San Antonio, and even Dallas. Usually they were just passing through or on vacation, but it provided enough income that he could think about things like underground parking and maybe expanding the club to include first-class dining.

Atticus set his pen down and stared at his bloody sleeve. He pinched his lower lip when a memory flashed in his mind of Joy slapping that fiend. Atticus had raced across the bar, fearing the man would strike back, but didn’t make it there in time. Had he not been so engaged in conversation, he might have gotten there before it started.

How dare anyone strike a woman with child. The man couldn’t have known, but Atticus knew, and his anger ripened.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he gripped his pen to finish writing, and it shattered in his hand.

The flavor of that man’s sins lingered on his tongue, but there was nothing sweeter than the taste of fear. Atticus no longer drank blood recreationally, so he hadn’t consumed that much blood in years. Indulging in a few drops or a glass now and again helped keep him strong and healthy, but Vampires with blood addictions never lived to be ancients. While it wasn’t illegal to drink from Breed so long as it was consensual, those who lacked self-control and crossed the line of morality sullied their reputation, and a man’s good name was all he had.

An expected knock sounded at the door.

Atticus concealed his ink-stained hand beneath the desk. “Enter.”

Yuri, his trusted manager, walked in and bowed. “I came as quickly as I could, Mr. Rain. A small fire in the kitchen, but it’s under control.”

Yuri originated from Russia, though his accent wasn’t heavy. Atticus had lost his original accent long ago, but he’d also learned that blending in with whatever country or culture he lived in made people more willing to trust him.

Atticus pushed his phone aside, a modern convenience he enjoyed since it allowed him to get an immediate response from his staff. He tapped his fingers on the paper. “You’re familiar with Joy Lockwood?”

“Yes.”

“I need your assistance with something.”

“Of course.”

“From now on, she receives five-star treatment, as will everyone who accompanies her. Any time she sets foot on our property, I want a guard assigned to her. You’re in charge of deciding who the most qualified candidates are among your team. The others will take over their duties for as long as she’s in the club. I don’t anticipate she’ll be making frequent appearances in the immediate future, but I will not have another incident like the one earlier this evening.”

“Understood,” the dark-haired gentleman said. “I’ll make the arrangements this evening and notify my people.”

“Whatever she orders, we provide. If we don’t have it, we get it. Joy Lockwood is now a top-tier customer, so if she orders a sweet tea, you’ll make her the most elegant presentation of delicious tea she’s ever had.” Atticus gestured to the paper. “These are new dishes I want added to the menu. The rest is my personal shopping list. I also need you to order me a new bottle of cologne. You know the kind I like.”

“As you wish.”

“Give the staff a refresher about preventing violent outbreaks—the bartenders especially. I also want bouncers present at all times of day, so we’ll need to hire two or three more people who meet the qualifications. This isn’t about our reputation; it’s about protecting customers. Do you have any questions?”

“No, sir.” With a quick bow, Yuri hastily left the room.

Atticus despised doing his own shopping. In olden times, people traded at public markets for foods they didn’t have: meat, bread, spices, and vegetables. You were lucky if they weren’t rotted or spoiling. Now a person could spend three hours in the canned-food section alone deciding on soup that had questionable ingredients. The variations confused him, as did where to find what he needed. While Atticus didn’t require food, he occasionally enjoyed it. So Yuri handled all his personal shopping and was handsomely rewarded.

After retrieving a handkerchief from his drawer, Atticus wiped off his ink-stained hand and then scooped the pen fragments into a wastebasket.

Though his life was marked by different phases, the past few centuries had been dedicated to typical Vampire work: charming men for information, bodyguard positions, scrubbing memories, torturing, killing. People paid well for those services, and he’d excelled at them. Atticus had left his violent past behind, but in the past few hours, his self-restraint had been tested. While troublemakers in clubs were a common occurrence, his staff was skilled at more than just plating food. That’s why he was especially disappointed with the bartender who had either missed or ignored the altercation.

He gazed up at the ceiling.

I really need to stop obsessing over a woman who despises me.

Joy’s pupils always dilated in his presence, and her heart raced. Every subtle fluctuation in her breathing and speech implied fear. That dashed any hope he had of winning her trust, and the first tendril of rejection weaved around his heart.

Atticus scrolled through the contact list on his phone and stopped at Tak’s number.

“Hey, Atticus,” Tak said. “What’s going on?”

“The usual.” Atticus smiled and leaned back in the chair. “How’s the property treating you?”

“Good. Always work to be done. I haven’t been to Dragonfly’s in a while, have I?”

“That’s not why I called. A few of your packmates were in here a while ago.”

“Were they causing trouble? Who was it?”

Atticus stared at his ink-stained fingers. “The trouble fell on them . An unfortunate incident occurred between one of the customers and Ms. Lockwood.”

“Joy? What kind of incident?”

“An altercation. She was slapped in the face.”

Tak growled what could only be a curse word in his native language. “Tell me what jackass had the balls to put his hands on my people.”

“I took care of the matter, and he’s blacklisted. I’ll let Calvin know so he can do the same. She’s on her way home, but I wanted you to hear it from me first. Ms. Lockwood is all right, but I think it would be best if she had some tea and put her feet up. Anxiety isn’t healthy for a woman in her condition.”

A stretch of silence followed. “She told you?”

“I’m a Vampire, and pregnancy isn’t something a person can conceal from me. Your pack’s business is their own, but I’m calling to make sure we’re on amicable terms. I’ve already implemented changes to security so nothing like this will happen again with Joy or any other woman. Speaking of expectant women, I haven’t seen Hope around lately. I trust she’s in good health?”

“Hope prefers remaining home with her family during this time.”

“Of course. Should she need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to ask. I can cater a dinner at your home to make up for tonight’s unpleasant affair.”

“Do I need to worry about this becoming a regular occurrence? If my women aren’t safe in your club, I can’t encourage them to go.”

Atticus stood and rounded his desk. “You have my word it won’t happen again.” He hesitated on how much he wanted to get involved but decided to speak up anyhow. “May I be frank?”

“That depends. What’s on your mind?”

Atticus sat on the edge of his desk. “The baby’s heartbeat was abnormally fast. It might have been the adrenaline, but I’m concerned. She doesn’t have a mate, correct?”

“Melody never mentioned how nosy you are.”

“Without a mate, Joy may not have adequate care—someone who checks in on her that she can confide in.”

“Careful, Vampire. I’m her alpha, and I take care of my pack.”

Packmasters were often preoccupied with other matters, and Tak had his own pregnant mate. Who was closely watching over Joy? Who was ensuring her well-being and looking after the baby?

He stared across the room at the two leather sofas. “I’ll place a guard on her whenever she’s here.”

“Maybe you should ban the troublemakers.”

Atticus stifled a laugh. “I’d wind up banning half the town, and that’s no good for business. Because of her delicate condition, you might consider an escort whenever she goes out—a strong wolf who can protect her. After all, she can’t heal or defend herself, and that makes her especially vulnerable. We can’t be too careful.”

“You make a fair point, and I’ll let that insinuation about my decision-making slide. As for reparations for what happened there tonight, there’s something I’d like more than a catered steak dinner.”

“Name it, and it’s yours.”

“That jackass’s address.”