Dark Dream’s Trap Page 2

  Except, college and marriage were not mutually exclusive.

  Kids were another thing, though. Getting pregnant with Ella was the reason her mother hadn’t gotten the education she’d wanted.

  Not that pregnancy had anything to do with marriage.

  Because she and Julian couldn’t use contraceptives while working on the activation of her immortal genes, there was a slight chance Ella could get pregnant during the process. But maybe the prohibition was only on condoms?

  She needed to ask Bridget if oral contraceptives were okay.

  Once she turned immortal, her fertility would drop to almost nothing, and that was regardless of whether she and Julian wanted to wait with starting a family or not.

  At the thought, a wave of sadness washed over Ella. It wasn’t that she wanted kids right away, but she didn’t want to wait centuries to have them either.

  Julian was going to make such a great father. He was warm, patient, smart…

  Crap, way to get carried away. There was plenty of time before any of that became relevant, and she was pretty sure Julian was about to tell her precisely that.

  Instead, he said, “This idea is growing on me, and the more I think of it, the more I like it.”

  Ella let out a breath and cast a sidelong glance at the three remaining chocolates on the little plate. She really shouldn’t eat any more, but the thing about being addicted to the sweet goodness was that she treated it as a reward or a pick-me-up, whether she was stressed or relieved, happy or sad, celebrating or mourning. Right now it was stress.

  Julian reached for one and handed it to her. “It's going to be like an old-fashioned courtship, when couples weren’t allowed to be alone before the big day, and all their meetings were done with family members present. I think that when sex is not on the table, it eliminates a lot of pressure. It becomes a non-issue.”

  “Except for the blue balls,” she murmured.

  “Don’t worry about that.” He chuckled. “I’ll survive.”

  Hopefully, not by using a substitute other than his own hand. Suddenly, it occurred to her that it was strange for Julian to be so understanding about her dream encounters with Logan, and about her other issues. Perhaps it was because he was slaking his needs elsewhere?

  But as soon as the thought flitted through her head, she cast it aside. Julian was just an angel of a man. That was all. And, apparently, he liked a challenge, even if it was about withstanding torment. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he was a highly competitive overachiever, and as such he must be very good at handling delayed gratification.

  They had that in common.

  Well, except for the freaking chocolates. She had no self-control with those.

  Still, she had to ask, “How?”

  “I’ll buy a tool belt.”

  She arched a brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Manual labor. I’ll get Yamanu to teach me construction and work till I drop. It will be a double whammy. The halfway house will get done faster and for less money, and I’ll come home too exhausted to think about anything other than getting in the shower and then bed.”

  He chuckled. “To sleep.”

  “Poor baby.” She cupped his cheek.

  “Not at all. I’m actually looking forward to it. It will keep me distracted while you clean your cabinets.” He put his hand over hers on his cheek. “Going platonic will get rid of a source of tension between us and allow us to focus on getting to know each other instead.”

  Reaching for the coffee mug, Ella took a sip to wash down the chocolate and then put it aside and spread her arms. “Can I give you a hug? Because you are the best guy on the planet, and I’m the luckiest girl.”

  He leaned into her arms, put his cheek on her shoulder, and sighed. “You know, there is a medical explanation for why it feels so good to hug and cuddle.”

  “Go ahead. Geek out on me,” she teased, but the truth was that she loved learning new things.

  “Hugging stimulates the pressure receptors under the skin, which increases the activity of the vagus nerve, which in turn triggers an increase in oxytocin levels. Oxytocin can decrease heart rate and cause a drop in the stress hormones cortisol and norepinephrine. It can also improve immune function, promote faster healing from wounds and diseases. It also increases the levels of good hormones, like serotonin and dopamine, which in turn reduce anxiety and depression.”

  “Oh, wow. Doctors should prescribe hugs in addition to medication.”

  “I agree.”

  Stroking his soft hair, she chuckled. “I found the solution to your midlife crisis at twenty-six. You should become a proponent of hugs and cuddles as a cure-all. I can visualize you running a hugging clinic with volunteer huggers, preferably old grandmas with soft bosoms. Those are the best, but you wouldn’t know since everyone here is young.”

  3

  Bridget

  “That’s a beauty,” Sandoval said as he took the ring from Turner. “But it pales in comparison to your lovely lady, my friend.”

  Bridget waved a dismissive hand. “You’re such a charmer, Arturo.”

  His eyes twinkled as he spread his arms in an exaggerated gesture. “Please tell me that this marvelous, fiery red hair is done by a gifted stylist. I’ll send my wife to him.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but this is my natural color.”

  “Dios mío! What a lucky man Turner is. I can just imagine the fire burning inside a natural red-head like you.” He then shook his head. “But the temper, that must be very hot too.”

  It was good that Turner wasn’t the jealous type, not overtly anyway, because Bridget was having fun flirting with the guy. It was harmless, he wasn’t aroused, and it had been ages since she’d engaged in teasing banter like that.

  The one downside of having a brainiac like Turner for a mate was the absence of easy, lighthearted banter. He was always serious, rarely smiled, and avoided nonsensical conversations like the plague.

  “You have no idea. I go from zero to one hundred in a split second.” She snapped her fingers.

  “I believe that.” Sandoval glanced at Turner. “But my friend here looks better than ever, so you must be good for him. All this new beautiful blond hair, and that unlined skin.” He smoothed his head over his thinning hair. “I want the name of that transplant place.”

  The story they had told him to explain Turner’s youthful appearance was that he’d gotten a hair transplant and laser work on his face.

  It always amazed Bridget how easy it was to sell people an unlikely story just because there was no other more reasonable explanation they could conceive of.

  For most Dormants, the transformation didn’t bring much change, but it had for Turner. He looked fifteen years younger and better than he had in his early twenties.

  He’d also lost some of the hardness, the edginess she’d found so sexy when they’d first met. But even though it had been part of why she’d fallen for him, Bridget didn’t miss it. He was happier now than he’d ever been, and knowing that she was the reason for it was priceless.

  “When we get back to Los Angeles, I’ll look for the brochure and email you the name of the place,” Turner said. “The revolutionary technology was developed in Switzerland, and that’s where their only location is. In a couple of years, they might open a branch in the States.”

  Sandoval grimaced. “Never mind. I’m not going to travel all the way there for a hair transplant. There are enough reputable establishments here.”

  Turner’s expression remained as impassive as ever, but Bridget knew him well enough to imagine a ghost of a smirk lifting the corners of his lips. He must’ve known about Arturo’s inability to visit Switzerland, and that was why he’d made up the story about the clinic being there.

  Following a knock on the door, one of Sandoval’s many security guards entered. “The appraiser is here.”

  Arturo waved a hand. “Let him in.”

  So that was what the flirting had been all
about. While waiting for the expert to arrive, Arturo had been stalling.

  “Is he trustworthy?” Turner asked. “I mean as far as spreading the rumor about the ring.”

  “You intend to sell it, yes?” Sandoval asked. “Then you need the word to spread.”

  “I was hoping you’d buy it from me and then sell it. I’m doing this as a favor for a friend, and it’s already taking too much of my time.”

  Training his gaze on Bridget, Sandoval grinned. “I’m thankful to your friend. If not for the ring, I would not have the excuse to finally meet your beautiful wife and offer you both my hospitality.”

  As the guard escorted the appraiser into the room, Arturo got up and greeted the guy as if he were an old friend.

  “Yasha, thank you for coming. Please meet my good friends, Victor and Bridget Turner.”

  As they shook hands, she exchanged glances with Turner. He’d asked Sandoval not to sell the ring in Russia, but he hadn't said anything about the nationality of the appraiser.

  Not that Yasha was necessarily a Russian.

  It was a common name, and he could’ve been from any country in the Eastern Bloc. Nevertheless, Bridget’s good mood had taken a nosedive. Sandoval had just introduced an unknown variable.

  It took Yasha five minutes to examine the ring. “Would you like me to email you the estimate?”

  Arturo clapped him on the back. “Sure. But I need a ballpark figure. How much do you think it could bring on the black market?”

  “Twenty-five to thirty.”

  “Millions, I assume?”

  The guy snorted. “Dollars, not rubles.”

  Bridget’s gut churned with unease. She had a feeling that the guy had not only recognized the ring, but that he also knew who’d originally bought it.

  It was to be expected, though. Not many diamonds of this size changed hands in the world, and someone like Yasha would be familiar with each one of them.

  After the appraiser collected his tools, Sandoval escorted him to the door. “Thank you. Can you do me a favor, my friend?”

  “Anything, for you.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone I have the ring.” He leaned to whisper in Yasha’s ear. “I’m considering buying it for my wife, and I want it to be a surprise.”

  “Of course.” The guy dipped his head before leaving.

  Obviously, Sandoval didn’t intend to buy the ring for himself or his wife, but he liked to maintain the appearance of a legitimate businessman who didn’t deal in anything illegal.

  After closing the door, he walked back to his armchair and sat down. “I’ll give you twenty for it.”

  Turner shook his head. “That’s much less than its lowest appraised value.”

  Sandoval grinned. “Yes, but since you are doing this as a favor for a friend and want to be done with this as soon as possible, I’m offering to take it off your hands. Instead of waiting for me to find you a buyer, you can get the money to your friend right away.”

  “Twenty-three,” Turner said.

  Sandoval shook his head. “Twenty-one, and that’s my final offer. Take it or leave it, my friend. And just so you know, I’m being very generous because of our friendship and because of what you have done for my family.”

  Reminded of what Sandoval’s nephew had done to Turner, Bridget’s temper flared hot, and before she could put a muzzle on it, she blurted, “Your relation, the one Turner spared and then convinced you not to kill, had ordered a hit on him. I think you can do better than twenty-one.”

  Sandoval laughed. “And here is that famous temper. But you are right, my dear Bridget. Twenty-two, and that’s my final offer.”

  Bridget offered him her hand. “You’re an honorable man, Arturo.”

  Twenty-two million was going to buy several halfway houses, not just one.

  “Indeed, I am.” He looked at Turner. “So, are we even now? My debt of honor to you is paid?”

  “There was no debt, Arturo.” Turner offered him his hand for a handshake. “Just old friends helping each other out.”

  4

  Losham

  As his cell phone rang, the last name Losham expected to appear on the screen was his brother’s.

  He let it go to voicemail.

  Lokan was a smart son of a bitch, and talking with him before he knew what the call was about was not a good strategy. The thing was, Losham’s island sources hadn’t reported any unusual activity or another shift of power among the half-brothers. Navuh liked to switch things around and reassign his sons to different leadership roles, so that none would get too comfortable or entrenched in their positions.

  Another benefit of this system was that each knew the other’s job.

  Except for Losham, who until recently had been his father’s right-hand man and advisor. Not anymore, though. He’d been demoted from his lofty position to leading the Brotherhood’s drug dealing and pimping operations.

  Except, Navuh hadn’t replaced him with anyone else yet. Was that what Lokan wanted?

  Was he sniffing around about the possibility of taking Losham’s place?

  It wasn’t as if he would call to ask after his brother’s wellbeing.

  The half-brothers weren’t close. To the contrary. The constant rivalry over leadership positions in the Brotherhood didn’t encourage familial loyalty, and neither did their father’s favoritism, which was a moving target.

  The favorite son today could become the least favored tomorrow, and Losham was a prime example of that. He’d thought himself indispensable, his strategic mind and good advice vital to Navuh and the Brotherhood, but he’d been wrong.

  He was still unsure what had brought it about. It could’ve been punishment for a series of minor blunders or the result of shifting priorities. But since he’d covered up his mishaps well, it was most likely the latter.

  With major contributors leaving the Brotherhood’s protective umbrella, funding had dried up, and a new source of income was needed.

  Regrettably, hot spots around the world were cooling at a rapid rate, and there was little demand for the Brotherhood’s army of mercenaries. Their entire business model was collapsing or, rather, leaning heavily on two spindly legs that at the moment couldn't carry its weight.

  That was why Navuh had assigned his best man to the job of shoring them up.

  What had been a fringe source of income that was used mostly to bribe and blackmail high-ranking public figures around the world had become the core that had to sustain them until a new source was found.

  It was all about technology now, and the Brotherhood wasn’t equipped to compete in this new world. At least not until Losham’s new breeding program started bearing fruit, producing offspring with mighty brains rather than brawn.

  When his phone announced that he had a new voicemail, Losham clicked on the recording and listened attentively, trying to pick up subtle nuances in his brother’s tone.

  “Hello, Losham. I’m in the Bay Area, and I thought it was a good opportunity for us to meet. How about dinner later today? I’m waiting to hear from you before making other plans, so please let me know as soon as you can.”

  Damn. Lokan hadn’t hinted at what he wanted to talk about, and the way he’d phrased his request, Losham had no choice but to answer him promptly.

  Any delay would be interpreted as fear, and that was even worse than meeting his half-brother unprepared.

  On his laptop, Losham closed the news broadcast he hadn’t been paying attention to anyway and straightened his shoulders.

  The damn demotion must have eroded his self-confidence.

  There was no real reason for him to be wary of Lokan.

  The guy was younger, less experienced, and had done nothing overly daring in recent years, unless schmoozing with Washington’s movers and shakers could be considered hazardous.

  Well, for a human it could be, but not for Lokan.

  The guy was charming, he had to give him that, and his ability to compel was nothing to sneer at. It was a rare and
coveted talent, extremely handy when dealing with humans. But neither compulsion nor his brother’s fake charm had any effect on Losham. It was absurd for him to get anxious over a friendly talk.

  Instead of calling back, he shot a quick text with the name of a restaurant he wanted to hold the meeting at. At least he had the advantage of the home court. The location of the hotel he’d chosen was perfect for bringing in a team of warriors and stationing them all around the big place without Lokan being any the wiser.

  As cunning and underhanded as his younger half-brother was, he was still no match for Losham.

  5

  Ella

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” Vivian said as Ella came in, then looked her up and down and then up again. “You look happy. Good news?”

  Ella knew precisely what her mother was asking, but she wasn’t going to indulge her curiosity. Besides, there was nothing to tell on that front.

  Instead, she opted to share her other good news.

  “Mr. D is arranging an expedited interview for me at Georgetown. All I have to do is fill out the application and send them my transcripts, which is why I’m going to Roni. I don’t know what kind of grades poor Kelly Rubinstein had before her premature death, and if he needs to give them a makeover.”

  Vivian’s face fell. “Oh.”

  Remembering what Julian had told her about hugs, Ella pulled her mother into a tight embrace. “This is good news, Mom. The faster it happens, the faster it ends, right?”

  Vivian sighed. “I know. What can I do that I’m such a scaredy-cat? Facing that Doomer terrifies me.”

  Ella let go of her mom. “He’s actually not that bad once you get to know him. I bet most people think he is charming. But enough about him. I have to shower and change. Julian is picking me up in twenty minutes, and we are going to a barbecue at Roni’s.”