Page 7 of The Death Dealer (Sentinels of Magic Book 2)

During their tour of Gene Stockton’s sprawling greenhouses, Soleil stole glances over her shoulder at Trevor. Had she not been so worried by his silence, she’d have enjoyed the experience. She’d erred in coming here for the alluring promise of a Wood’s Cycad. Yes, they’d met, and yes, they’d transacted business before. Trevor’s reaction had made it seem like Gene was the lowest sort of scoundrel, and yet he’d been nothing but kind to her in the past.

“Don’t worry so much, Ms. Stephens. Your boyfriend will get over his pique,” Stockton said in a low voice.

“Oh, no! No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my anything, really,” she babbled. “I’m his mission. He?—”

“For fuck’s sake!” Trevor’s stern voice rang through her mind. “Stop giving him information!”

With an indignant gasp, she halted and spun to face him. “Quit yelling at me!”

“I didn’t.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

With a sickening dread, she met Stockton’s twinkling gray eyes. Triumph lurked in their depths.

“Fated mates. How interesting,” he said.

“No! We aren’t fated anything,” she denied hotly. “Certainly not mates. We aren’t even?—”

Trevor growled his displeasure.

Fed up with men in general, she threw up her hands and stalked to a table of orchids, where species of every kind greeted her. The variety of colors was splendid but did little to ease her irritation over her situation.

Trevor spoke, but his words were indistinguishable from this distance, and she refused to tune in to the buzzing inside her brain. Purposefully, she studied the flower in front of her, noting it was another rare plant, peeking up at her through the soil. A Rhizanthella Gardneri, also know as the Western Underground Orchid.

She felt his approach but didn’t face him. Instead, concentrating on the pink, deep-red, and cream petals.

“Is that a Western Underground?” Trev asked.

Soleil looked up upon hearing the curiosity in his voice. Glancing beyond him, she saw Gene speaking with his henchmen, about twenty feet away. “I know it makes you nervous to be here. We could teleport if we’re quick,” she said.

“No, we can’t. He informed me he’s got Blockers working the island, and even if they couldn’t stop us, his wards would fry us before our cells were fired up to go.” Trevor met her shocked gaze. “We’re stuck until either Damian comes for you or we convince him to let us go.”

“We could always find a way to neutralize the Blockers and wards. You’re powerful enough.”

With shrewd eyes, Trevor studied her face, and she wondered what he saw.

“Intelligence,” he answered with a tilt of his lips. “And loveliness.”

She pressed her palm to her thudding chest. “Stop doing that. Thoughts should be private,” she scolded.

“I agree, and we’ll figure out a way to cut the cord of our connection once we return home.” He covered her hand with his. “But until then, we’re going to be one unit. Share one mind. We’re going to work together to get off this fucking island and get you to safety. Got it?”

She nodded and cast a quick glance over his shoulder toward their host. “I don’t want you to believe me completely foolish. I’ve heard the rumors about him.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“The Wood’s Cycad. It’s worth the risk.”

Their gazes locked, and after a few telling heartbeats, his dropped to her mouth. The pounding in her chest was harder and louder than a Lambeg drum, and she was positive he felt it despite her hand as a buffer.

“Mm. Some things are, I suppose,” he said in agreement. After a long moment, he dropped his arm and stepped back. “We’ve been invited to dinner, but first, we’re to be shown to our room to freshen up.”

“Room? Don’t you mean rooms?”

The eyes he focused on her were blazing hot, and she could swear she heard her skin sizzle from the contact.

“No, Soleil. I mean room.” He smirked, and she had the burning desire to smack the superior look off his face.

“This place is palatial. I’m sure there are plenty of beds for you to choose from.”

“Except I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I’m in no danger from Gene. He’s always been nice to me in the past. I’d fear you before him,” she retorted.

Trevor stepped into her space, and she shifted backward, her butt coming in contact with the greenhouse worktable. Still, he pressed into her. The full contact of his hard body against hers scattered her brain cells to the wind. Or it would’ve, had there been a breeze. As it was, those useless cells dropped to her big toe, along with her stomach.

“You’re afraid of me?” He sounded intrigued by the prospect, and the intensity in his probing look made Soleil swallow hard.

“A little,” she admitted with some reservation.

He brushed the tip of his nose along the column of her throat, pausing below her earlobe to inhale deeply. His lips grazed the shell of her ear, and a shiver of pleasure raced through her.

“Why?” he asked huskily.

Soleil had the presence of mind to press her hands to his chest, but it seemed her fingers had a mind of their own and roamed over the hard, sculpted muscles of his pecs. “What?”

“Why are you afraid of me, Soleil?” His voice was hypnotic, drugging her and dragging out a response she’d have preferred to keep to herself.

“I’ve never felt with anyone the way I do with you,” she confessed. “And you’re a Death Dealer. You’ve the ability to destroy me in multiple ways.”

Soleil’s answerwas equivalent to a bucket of icy water over Trevor’s head, and he stiffened.

She wasn’t wrong. Trevor avoided long-term for a reason. Primarily because his touch brought death. Or prolonged exposure would, anyway. For the safety of others, he kept affairs to a limited time frame.

He straightened away from her and resolved to do better. From now on, he had to remember to keep his thoughts hidden and his hands to himself. It wouldn’t do to lead her on when there could be no future for them.

“Is that what you’re doing?” She asked softly, concern in her wondrous eyes. “Leading me on?”

“Fuck.”Pasting on a cool smile, he softened his next words. “Please try to stay out of my head, and I’ll do the same.”

Her nod was slow, as if she was mulling over what he’d said. “You told me you could teach me how to block you. Will you do that?”

“Yeah. But it’s late, and our host is champing at the bit to get inside, I think.”

Soleil looked past him, and a small frown tugged her dark brows together. “He’s nice. What don’t you like about him? Why was your reaction so extreme earlier?”

“Let’s just say he’s known for his shady business dealings throughout the witch community.”

“Who says?”

“What?” Trev scowled down at her. Why the hell couldn’t she trust him on this one?

“You heard me. Who says? Who are the people bad-mouthing him?” She paused and smirked up at him, and damned if he wasn’t distracted by that goddamned sexy mouth. “And I’m not going to trust you on this one,” she stated primly. “I don’t know you any more than I do him. Also, you might need a few lessons on blocking your thoughts, too.”

With a frustrated huff, he stalked toward their warden. “If you’re determined to keep us here, Stockton, have someone show us our room.”

“Rooms,” Soleil piped in from behind him. “We want separate rooms.”

“No. We. Do. Not!” Trevor ground out.

Her chin jutted out, tempting him to strangle her. Or kiss her. But definitely to share a bed with her.

When she flushed, he grinned evilly, suddenly feeling lighter than he had a minute before. He’d forgotten to contain his thoughts again, and she wasn’t indifferent to the sexual scenarios currently running through his mind.

Someone cleared their throat, and still, it wasn’t enough to break Trevor and Soleil’s staring contest. What did it say about him that her stubbornness was a total turn-on?

Without looking away from her, Trev lifted his brows challengingly and said, “Stockton, if you have adjoining rooms, we’ll be grateful for your hospitality. If not, we’ll require one room.”

Gene Stockton’s voice was highly amused when he replied, “That can be arranged.”

Chin still in the air, Soleil breezed past Trevor and accepted Stockton’s proffered arm.

“Thank you,” he heard her say to their host.

“My pleasure, Ms. Stephens. At dinner tonight, we can discuss the reason for your visit, and tomorrow, we’ll do what we can to discover who tried to harm you.” Within minutes, they were outside a suite of rooms, and Stockton gestured with a wave toward the door. “I believe you’ll find everything you need, and if not, I’m certain you can conjure it.”

“But the Blockers?—”

“Are only to prevent you from leaving. Not to curtail your magic in general.”

A troubled light entered the man’s gray eyes, but fled so quickly Trevor thought perhaps he’d imagined it.

“Might I have a brief word with you, Mr. Blane?”

Soleil hightailed it through the door, and Trev was left to wonder if Stockton had held him back by design or if there was a real reason. He didn’t have long to wait.

“I don’t trust you,” Stockton stated coldly, all pretense of an affable host gone. “I don’t know why you felt it necessary to trail along with Ms. Stephens, but?—”

“Because as I stated, someone tried to run her down five minutes before we got here,” Trev retorted. “If you believe I’m leaving her in your care without protection, you’ve got a screw loose.”

The other man narrowed his eyes as he studied him. “Then I suggest we discover who might have an ax to grind with your lovely companion.” A sly expression crossed his face. “I hope you realize you have competition for her affections. I find her a delight.”

“Are you a hundred years old?” Trev sneered. “Who says things like that? ‘I find her a delight,’” he mimicked with a sneer. “No wonder you live all alone on an island in the middle of the Pacific.”

“You know where my home is located?” The question was soft yet deadly.

“I’ve always known, Stockton. You’re on the Authority’s radar. Have been since you went head-to-head with my father.”

“Your father.” Tone flat, Stockton stared at him, but his overall energy wasn’t as combative. “If you’d ever like the truth of our encounter, I’m happy to tell you. But I’m going to recommend you don’t believe everything you hear. Dinner’s in one hour, Mr. Blane.”

There was an unexpected dignity in the way Gene Stockton carried and conducted himself, and his entire vibe was puzzling. Acting on impulse, Trevor pulled out his phone and called his brother, Simon, the moment Gene was out of sight.

“Hey, Trev. Why are you calling so late? Everything okay?” Although sleepy sounding, there was a sharpness to his brother’s voice. Trev calculated the time difference for the East Coast, and tapped the heel of his palm to his head. He hadn’t realized so much time had passed since meeting Maddie at the restaurant.

“Everything’s fine. I, uh…”

“What’s going on? I recognize the hesitancy in your tone.” The sounds through their connection changed, indicating Simon had put him on speakerphone.

“Si, do you remember Dad’s dealings with a man named Gene Stockton?”

Evelyn Thorne-Blane, Simon’s new wife, joined their conversation. “Stockton? Why does that name sound familiar?”

“His file crossed my desk once, and I passed it off to you. We suspected he was a lesser player in a money-laundering scheme,” Simon replied.

“That’s right. Turned out he was clean,” Evelyn said.

“Clean?” Trevor rubbed the back of his neck and strolled down the hall to stare out at the inky night sky. “How the hell is that possible? I could swear Dad said he was part of Dutch’s organization.”

A few years ago, they’d discovered their father, Benjamin, was alive and in hiding from a mafia kingpin named Dutch. The man had been responsible for the death of their mother, Gloria, when Simon was still a child and Trevor was a young adult, freshly recruited by the Authority, like every generation before him. The Blane family members were Death Dealers, and the higher-ups liked to use them as glorified assassins for their magical causes.

Benjamin Blane, however, had different ideas.

Having infiltrated Dutch’s organization and taken the lives of the kingpin’s immediate family, he quit the business. Initially, the Authority tried to rehabilitate him, or, as Trevor preferred to call it, reprogram aka brainwash. But Ben had lost his nerve and refused to work with them again, sealing his fate. Trackers had been unable to find him, though, and to this day, Trevor didn’t understand how. The Authority employed the best of the best.

“No,” Evelyn said, drawing Trev back into their conversation. “Stockton was the only legitimate business contact Dutch had. His wife was obsessed with orchids, and Gene Stockton is a procurer of rare plants. Also, he’s a helluva business man. Trades in stocks.”

“In that case, why the armed guards on a disappearing island in the middle of nowhere?”

“Do you know how much some of those plants are worth on the black market?” Simon asked.

“Yeah, I forgot about that for a minute, but really, I couldn’t give two shits. I just needed to know he wasn’t part of Dutch’s organization.”

Evelyn laughed. “Well, you have your answer. Gene Stockton is legit.”

“Why does he need witches on his payroll?”

“Again, that goes back to his inventory,” she said. “He’d be a fool not to protect his investment.”

“I suppose.” Trevor sighed. “Si, do me a favor whenever you head to the office tomorrow, will you?”

“What’s that?”

He explained about the incident at the restaurant. “Please pull up any video footage around seven fifteen yesterday. See if you can get a plate and a name. I need to know who’s after Soleil.”

After he signed off, Trevor made one last visual sweep of the grounds through the window next to where he lingered. A small figure running across the grass caught his attention, and he peered closer. The girl appeared to be a young teenager, and her hair was cropped close to her scalp. Rail thin, it looked like a strong wind could knock her over if she wasn’t careful. Who was she? And why was she running around in the dark?