Page 19 of Blue Embers
. . .
When we arrived at the manor, I pulled up into the carport and stepped out, glimpsing over at Persephone as she stood and ogled at the large beach house. I could tell she was starting to doubt my character a bit. A Draak with riches was a cliche, especially when we flaunted it.
“It’s smaller on the inside,” I joked a bit, walking toward the front door.
“You have glass walls,” she pointed out. “I can see that it most certainly is not smaller on the inside.”
Chuckling, I opened the door and ushered Persephone inside. She took a long pan around the sizable interior of the sitting area and the dining room and the white, spiral stairs that led up to the second floor. I didn’t allow her much time to take it in before I trekked across the space to the basement door.
“You live alone?” she asked. “Don’t you have an assistant?”
“Malisa takes a lot of time off,” I said, heading down the steps into my office.
As the motion lights illuminated the tables and computers that surrounded the work area, Persephone slowed her gate to take a look at my setup. Monitors brightened as I tapped each one awake. Persephone seemed a bit taken aback by the equipment.
“Wow,” she raised her brows. “I heard you were tech savvy, but I still didn’t imagine this.”
“This is what I used to do for the Draakir, love," I said.
I laughed on a low tone and strode toward her. I could feel her muscles tense before I even touched her. In fact, I enjoyed how nervous I could make her feel. I gently slid my fingers down her arm in a way that made her heart sputter. Watching her eyes twitch toward me, I slipped the necklace from her hand, putting my face close to hers until I could hear her breath stop. She blinked, a bit caught off guard, and loosened her grip on the pendant, letting me pull it from her grasp. Smirking, I stepped away and set the necklace down on a table next to the glass bullet before I pulled out my phone to photograph the thing for Draven. As I did, Persephone caught a glimpse of the bullet under its glass casing and closed in on it.
“What is this?” she pointed.
“Something dangerous,” I said, bringing my phone up to snap a photo of the necklace. “Why?”
“I’ve seen this before.”
My interest peaked. I looked at her, cocking my head.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She transferred her weight to one leg and let out a sharp breath.
“Ok,” she said, leaning on the table to give her body a sassy curve. “I sort of dabbled in some shady groups to get some of the things in the exhibit. There are a lot of rare items I wanted to get my hands on. I have a guy who knows someone who knows someone else.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Anyways, he’d bring me things to look at from time to time and I’d say whether or not I wanted to buy them. One time he brought me this case of bullets that looked exactly like this one.”
I stiffened with surprise, turning my body to face her more directly.
“And?” I said.
“And I didn’t take them,” she shrugged. “Bullets aren’t exactly a historical artifact. He couldn’t even tell me why he thought I’d want them. I mean, the guy stole, cheated, and did all the dirty work to get me rare items. I never asked questions.”
“Ms. Grant.” I narrowed my eyes, looking her up and down. “You dress properly, but you’re quite dirty, aren’t you?”
“Are you going to fire me?” she shot back. “Because I made sure none of the illegal stuff could be traced to me or you. I’m just a naive buyer,” she shrugged. “According to anyone, I didn’t even know the guy.”
“No,” I smiled faintly. “In fact, I might be able to put your skills to use another way.”
“Skills?”
“Connections,” I corrected myself, walking to one of the computers to pull up some of the tracking programs I had been following for the past couple months. “I’ve been looking for those bullets on the black market and in other shady realms for a while now and have turned up very little. While I have a vast network, it seems my targets have been avoiding all of them. They have people on their side that know where I have eyes.”
The screen lit up with a map of the sectors, highlighting borders and hotspots for rebel crime where I’d been keeping close eyes on suspicious activity. I had contacts in the areas but clearly not the kind Persephone had.
“I’d very much like to meet your friend,” I added, turning back to face her.
“That’ll be hard,” she said. “After he came to me with the bullets, I stopped hearing from him.”
“How long ago was that?”
