Protecting Salvation: A Shadow Elite Novel

That had been less painful than he’d expected. Not physically, having blood drawn was second nature to him. Finding out you’re special meant you became a doctor’s tool for learning. He’d never really minded, but he never liked to be centre-stage. Savannah had called him and asked him if she could take a sample and he’d agreed.

He still wasn’t getting his hopes up, but he’d go along with this because he knew it was what his friends needed right now. They’d suffered enough and he wouldn’t be the person who added more strain to their already stressful lives.

It was why he’d gone out last Friday night when the boys decided to crash girl’s night. It had turned out way better than he could ever imagine and it made a rare smile spread across his face. Peyton Lawson was a smoke show in every way. Her long, toned legs in that skirt had him fighting the urge to punch every single man that was leering at her with naked lust in their eyes. Which was ridiculous for two reasons, one she wasn’t his, and two, he’d been one of those men, although he hoped he’d kept his interest a little more subtle.

He’d got to know her a little after Aoife’s father had attacked her and beaten her so badly for information that it was a wonder she’d lived. A couple more blows and he wasn’t sure she would have. He shuddered at the thought and pushed it away.

He stopped off at the boba shop Val loved and picked up her favourite blend to make back at the base and walked towards his car. He was halfway there when his phone rang and he answered.

“Hey, Bein, what’s up?”

“Are you still in town?”

Hurricane went on alert at the urgency in his friend’s voice. “Yes, what do you need?”

“Peyton’s office was broken into last night.”

The hair on his neck rose at the news, every instinct in his body had him turning in that direction and increasing his step. “I’ll head that way now.”

“Thanks, buddy. Aoife is freaking out and I knew you were close.”

“Yeah, of course. Is Peyton okay?”

His heart hammered against his rib cage as he waited for Bein to respond. “Yeah, she’s fine. She wasn’t there when it happened but she’s shaken up and the police aren’t being very helpful.”

“Is that right?” He quickened his step until he was jogging. “I’ll call you when I’m with her.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

He hung up and jogged the rest of the way in no time, passing confused onlookers as he ran through the centre of the pedestrian area and past the Cathedral. He rounded the bend and saw one solitary police car and an officer. He moved to go past him and the officer stepped in his way.

“You can’t go in there.”

He was six inches taller than this idiot, but he didn’t push it. He stepped back respectfully. He knew exactly what they saw, a big, black man with thick muscles, a baseball cap backwards on his head, and trainers that probably cost more than his car and the judgement was made. But he tried to ignore it like he always did. “Sir, I’m a friend of Peyton Lawson.”

The officer smirked. “Of course you are.”

What the fuck! Hurricane blew out a breath to help himself remain calm and not pick the asshole up by the neck and toss him out of the way.

“What’s your name?”

Here we go. He gave the alias he used for this kind of thing and watched him make a note of it.

“How do you know the victim?”

“I told you we’re friends. If you just let me in, she can tell you that herself.”

“That is an active crime scene. I can’t just let you inside.”

“Well, can you tell her I’m here, please? I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

He waited as the officer thought about his request and seemed to decide he was going to be magnanimous. He spoke into his radio and relayed the message. Hurricane hoped she figured out who it was by that name because it wasn’t one he’d ever used in front of her.

The mic crackled and a muffled response said she was coming down. Footsteps running down the stairs caught his attention and he looked behind the officer, up the alley to the side door where he knew she’d appear.

His heart gave a flip of relief when he finally had eyes on her in the flesh. All the tension he’d had since Bein’s call ebbed away as she ran toward him and threw herself into his arms. He caught her and held her to him, his arms bandied tight as her fingers clung to his shoulders. His one hand stroked the back of her head, cupping it and holding her against his neck. Her body shuddered against him and he felt some of her tension ease from her the longer he held her.

“You’re okay, sugar. You’re safe now.”

His eyes landed on a man walking towards them from the direction in which she’d come and it didn’t take a genius to peg him as a plain clothes officer. He was a walking talking suit cliché.

“I’m sorry.”

Hurricane eased his body away so he could look at her face and saw fear and panic in her eyes. “Hey, you don’t have a damn thing to be sorry for, Peyton.” He cupped her cheeks. “Are you okay, physically? Nobody hurt you did they?”

She shook her head. “No, I wasn’t here when it happened. I found it like this when I came in this morning.”

Although Bein had told him the same, hearing her say it made him feel better. “Good.”

He kept his arm around her and she burrowed closer as if she couldn’t bear to be away from him. He had to admit he liked that she felt safe with him and he’d do his damndest to make sure she stayed that way.

“Ms Lawson, would you like to introduce us to your friend?”

The way he said friend held so much innuendo and judgment it took everything in him not to react. He’d been around racism his entire life, he was used to it. It still irked and stung but he lived with it. Peyton, however, did not, and he wouldn’t have a woman he liked subjected to that sneer and tone.

“I already gave the officer my name. What happened here and what are you doing about it?”

“No need for that tone, son.”

Hurricane stiffened and Peyton stroked a hand down his spine and held on to the waistband of his jeans and it settled him a little.

“I ain’t your son.”

The Detective who had yet to offer any introduction, scowled. “Ms Lawson, perhaps you could call off your attack dog. We’re only trying to do our jobs and this isn’t helping.”

He wanted to say so much but he’d probably said enough already and he didn’t need the attention.

“Detective McCain, please do not refer to my friend worrying about me as him being my attack dog. It is rude and unbecoming of someone in your public position.”

McCain went red, and for a second Hurricane wondered if his eyes would pop out of his head from the pressure.

“We’ll be in touch, Ms Lawson, but perhaps in future you’ll ensure you’ve locked up correctly so that vandals don’t take advantage. A young woman alone really should be more careful.”

He nodded to the officer and they walked toward their cars, McCain muttering something about insurance claims. He waited until they left and then turned to Peyton. “What a needle dick.”

Her face morphed and she burst out laughing as he hugged her closer and dropped a kiss on her head that felt as natural as breathing. “He really is.”

He ushered her inside. “Come on, sugar, show me the damage and we can talk.”

Peyton took the narrow, twisty stairs up and he tried not to stare at her peachy butt and keep his eyes on the back of her head, but it was hard. Peyton made his hands itch to touch her. She was slim but had curves in the right places and she wasn’t skinny. She had meat on her bones and she liked to eat and that was a huge turn-on for him. A woman who knew what she liked and accepted who she was. Even now, recovering from the shock of the break-in and having her foundations rocked, she held her head high.

His shoulders brushed the walls as they climbed and he noticed scrapes on the walls that looked new and wondered if it was from her intruder. And what the hell had that asshat meant about locking up properly? He needed to find out.

His breath left him when he saw the devastation in her office, which he knew would have been a calm and serene environment from what he could see, left behind. The couch was overturned, all the stuffing ripped open with a blade of some kind. Her computer lay smashed on the floor, filing cabinets were tipped over, and plants destroyed but it was the writing on the wall that convinced him wholeheartedly that this wasn’t just vandals.

He stepped closer and pressed his finger to the pale brown mush that spelt out the word bitch. Sniffing he blinked and sniffed again. “Is that apple?”

“That’s what I thought.”

He rubbed his fingers together, before wiping it along his jeans. “So this is how you found it?”

Peyton nodded. “Yeah, the door was hanging off its hinges.”

“Wait, what? I thought detective needle dick said you forgot to lock up?” He walked to examine the door which he’d failed to do when he walked in and saw she was right, it had been kicked in or bashed in with something.

Peyton rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what he’s trying to convince me happened but I know I locked up.” She swallowed and looked away. “I’m a bit paranoid about things like that since, well, you know.”

He nodded not making her say it. “Why would he do that? It’s very clear someone broke in and even more clear it wasn’t just vandals.” He watched her pale and cursed himself for his tactless comment. “Shit. Sorry, sugar.”

He moved closer and rubbed her forearm before sliding his fingers down and taking her hand before patting it in his. “I promise you I’ll keep you safe.”

She nodded but he could tell she didn’t believe it and he didn’t blame her.

“Wow, what the fuck happened in here?”

Hurricane let go of her hand and turned to watch Lotus and Titan walk into the room. “That’s what we’re gonna find out.”

Both his teammates were eyeing the room and cataloguing things the same way he had.

“The detective,” he used his fingers to make air quotes, “says it’s vandals and Peyton most likely left the door open.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Peyton, any idea why he might say that?”

Titan was watching her and he wondered what Titan saw that perhaps he didn’t. Titan had a very different relationship with the law than he did. He’d had a few scrapes but nothing like Titan, who’d run a huge illegal gang in London for his own personal reasons until it came to a head and Jack got him out.

Peyton sighed and rubbed her forehead as if she was getting a headache. “I don’t exactly have a stellar relationship with the local police force. Detective McCain’s partner was a man called Jim Wright. His wife came to see me after he’d beaten their fifteen-year-old son in front of her. She’d suffered years of abuse and it was the last straw.”

“Piece of shit,” Titan spat, his features flat and angry.

“Yeah, he was. When she pressed charges a year later, I was asked to testify and he was fired and given a five-year sentence for assault and battery. His colleagues still believe he was unfairly treated so some, not all but some of them, don’t like me.”

“Old boys’ club,” Lotus remarked with a pop of her shoulders.

“It very much still is in a lot of places.”

Peyton rubbed her arms as if she was cold and he almost went to her and wrapped her in his arms but wasn’t sure it was his place. She must feel vulnerable as hell right now, especially knowing that if she called them the police would likely do very little to help or investigate, if anything at all.

“Well, if they won’t investigate, we will.” He made a decision and hoped like hell Bás or Duchess would agree with him. Although things were quiet for them at the moment and Peyton was a friend, so he wasn’t too concerned about making the call.

“Damn right we will,” Lotus agreed and she looked like her old self for just a split second. The pain and grief that had been stalking her heels lifted and showed the woman who infuriated them as much as she made them love her and want to protect her.

“Thank you, but I know you have enough going on. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Nonsense, we aren’t taking no for an answer. And in any case, Aoife would kick our asses if we didn’t help you out.”

Peyton laughed at Titan. “She can be pretty scary when she gets a mood on her.”

“Puts our Lotus to shame.” Titan elbowed Lotus and she rolled her eyes.

“Let’s get started. I’ll get my kit and start getting some samples and see if we can find any fingerprints or DNA that might help.”

Hurricane pointed behind himself. “Might want to start there.”

Lotus wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, what is that?”

“Fermented apple.”

“What?”

“Yeah, exactly. Not the medium of choice for most artists of this kind.”

“Peyton, anything spring to mind? Anybody apart from the local police who might be upset with you?”

Hurricane stepped closer to her at Lotus’ question, wanting her to know he was there if she needed him. Her body leaned into his and he moved closer, resting his palm on the back of her neck and thumbing the delicate skin underneath her hair.

“I counsel lots of different people with differing degrees of PTSD, including those abused by spouses or family members. Often that makes me the focus of their rage when the loved one gets strong enough to fight back. So, yes, maybe a few. I did see a man hanging around yesterday after a client like that left, but I didn’t see a face and it might have been a coincidence.”

Hurricane looked at Lotus and Titan who were wearing similar expressions as the one he knew was on his face. “All right, sugar, we’ll have Watchdog take a look.”

“Hurricane, why don’t you take Peyton home and get any more details while Titan and I handle this? I know Aoife is going to head over as soon as she gets off shift. Bein has gone to pick her up.”

Hurricane could have kissed his friend, in a purely platonic way, because she could see without asking how shaken Peyton was. It was Lotus who’d been with her the day she was attacked and helped save her life.

“Is that okay with you, sugar? Or do you want Lotus to go with you?” He wanted to be the one who was there for her but he knew it might be better if it was Lotus.

“No, I want you.” A pink blush stained her cheeks and she ducked her head as soon as the words registered. “I mean, I’d feel safer with you.”

He fought a grin and won, barely. “You got it. Is there anything you need here?”

“Just my bag.”

“Is Bertie at home?”

Her eyes came to his and they looked slightly vacant and he wondered if she was going into shock. “He’s at the groomers. I need to collect him.”

“We can do that on the way.”

He knew from Aoife that Peyton walked most places so her car wouldn’t be an issue. His hand on her upper arm he guided her out, taking the bag Lotus passed him and handing it to her. “Call me if you find anything.”

“Will do, big guy.”

He walked with her down the narrow stairs, keeping his hand on her shoulder sensing she needed that small physical connection to keep her grounded. “My car is parked at the hospital.”

Her eyes widened. “It is? Are you okay?”

He nodded, not wanting to have this conversation with her but knowing she needed the distraction and it wasn’t exactly a secret anymore. “I’m having some tests done.”

“Oh.” She looked at the floor as they walked and he kept a hand on her back to guide her. Her head came up a few minutes later as they drew closer to the car park. “You’re okay though? You’re not going to die?”

The worry in her voice was nice and horrid at the same time, and he wondered what kind of asshole was pleased that someone might worry about them. “The plan is to stay alive that’s for sure.”

“I’m sorry, I’m being nosey it’s none of my business.”

He gripped her upper arm and stopped her in the middle of the pavement. Her head tipped back and she looked at him with compassion but not pity. “It’s not that, it’s complicated. How about I take you home? You can make me a sandwich and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Her lips twitched and he knew it had been the right thing to do. A mundane activity, like making tea or a simple meal, could be soothing for someone in shock and his doozy of a diagnosis would distract her. Peyton had been through one hell of an ordeal not even eighteen months past and she wasn’t recovered, which was why this was hitting her so hard.

“So, it’s true that you’re always hungry?”

A laugh huffed out of him as he clicked the locks and opened the door of his black Audi A3. “I’m a growing boy, sugar.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Her eyes swept over him and his cheeks felt hot, and he thanked God for his dark skin so that she couldn’t see him blush.

The journey was quick with a short stop to collect Bertie who licked his face in greeting. Peyton held him tight, kissing his fluffy head and he felt jealous of a damn dog because he was getting something he’d give his left nut for. Parking in the drive, he took her key and made her wait in the car while he checked her house and made sure it was clear. He knew it freaked her out, but he’d rather see her freaked than hurt. Once he was happy the house was clear, he walked her inside and closed the door.

Taking off his hat, he brushed a hand over his short hair and took a seat at her kitchen peninsula before dropping his cap into his lap as she gave Bertie some water. He tried to forget that her bedroom was above his head and how badly he’d wanted to take her up on her offer last Friday night. Peyton was beautiful, kind, loyal, funny, and smart and he liked her a lot. If he hadn’t got his diagnosis last year he probably would’ve pursued something with her, but what could he possibly offer her now?

A broken man who could go blind or, worse, die on the operating table. He knew she liked him, and when he was with her the pull between them was electric. He’d never felt anything like it before. It was easy, no bullshit, no angst, and he could be himself with her. But he knew friends would be a stretch for him when he wanted her so damn badly that it was an effort to restrain his dick when she was around.

“So what do you want in your sandwich?” Her head was in the fridge as she spoke and he let his eyes drink her in, from her long, light straight brown hair to her peachy butt and long, lithe legs.

“Oh, anything is fine.”

He blinked as she turned around and gave him a smile that reached her eyes and it was the first since he’d seen her last Friday that felt real.

“Well, I have cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, pickles, and mayo?”

“Sounds good.”

He watched her get everything out and place it on the chopping board, where she began to wash, chop, and assemble.

“So come on, spill.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You’re a direct little thing aren’t you?”

She pointed the butter knife in his direction as she spoke. “I’m a farmer’s daughter and we don’t tiptoe when direct is better.”

“Fair enough.”

He didn’t know that detail about her, having deliberately not read her file because he wanted any information about her to be something she trusted him with. Each person the team interacted with had a thick file on them put together by Watchdog.

God, just the thought of his friend made him sick to his stomach. The man he’d been was all but gone, lost to a trauma that every single member of the team felt guilty for. He wondered if someone like Peyton could help him heal, or at least try, and decided he’d speak to Bás when he got the chance.

“Well, since we aren’t segueing into this, I won’t mess around. I have a brain tumour.”

The knife in her hand clattered to the ground as her face paled and the next second he was diving around the kitchen to grab her before she passed out.