Phoenix King Read online

  I woke up when Ashur picked me up and carried me inside to the bed.

  "I can walk," I protested.

  "We're already here," he responded mildly, setting me down on the bed.

  He took off my shoes and jeans and followed suit, slipping in next to me. I could get used to this so easily. His body was warm and solid against my back as he moved in to wrap an arm around my waist. Warm and tired, I dropped back into sleep quickly.

  When I awoke again the next morning, it felt like I had just closed my eyes, but I did feel rested. And warm. And comfortable.

  "Morning," Ashur rumbled in his early-morning voice.

  "Morning."

  I wiggled around and gave him a kiss.

  Then I glanced at the clock and threw the covers to the side.

  "Time to get Omari ready for school," I announced, hopping up and pulling on my pajama pants that were on the floor.

  Ashur threw an arm over his eyes. He'd taken his shirt off, so I was treated to a mouthwatering view of his muscled arm and chest. I sighed internally. No time. And no privacy right now.

  Ashur raised his arm a little and looked at me hopefully.

  "Not right now," I warned, walking over to Omari's bed. It was half an order to myself.

  "All right," Ashur grumbled good-naturedly as he rolled out of bed too. "I'll get breakfast started."

  "Thank you," I said gratefully, gently shaking Omari awake.

  His eyes snapped open. And he barreled out of bed at full charge, as usual. I was really jealous of that ability.

  "Hi Ashur!" he said excitedly, bouncing on his toes in his excitement.

  "Hey, Omari," Ashur said, grinning. "Better get ready so you have time to eat my world-famous pancakes."

  "World famous?" he said, his eyes round.

  Ashur nodded gravely.

  "I'm hurrying!" Omari ran to the bathroom.

  "World famous?" I repeated skeptically.

  "I can make dinosaur shapes," Ashur said with a wink. "One of my many talents."

  I chuckled, shaking my head. Between the two of us, we got Omari ready to go and got ready ourselves too pretty efficiently. Having an extra pair of hands around was beyond useful. We even dropped Omari off early. It was usually a struggle for me to get him there right in the nick of time.

  As Ashur and I walked into the school, I saw more than a few heads turn to give him a second look. I couldn't blame them. He wasn't the type of guy who could blend in. And it wasn't just his height or good looks, which would have been enough. He just had a . . . presence. He wasn't someone that you could easily ignore when he was in the vicinity.

  I did worry that I might be getting a . . . reputation. First with Jacob. Now with Ashur. With my scraped face and everything else, I could only imagine the rumor mill was going crazy.

  Ashur carried himself as well as he did anywhere—smiling back at people and somehow looking more relaxed than I did. Being Dragon Lord probably gave you a self-confidence boost. Maybe I could start calling myself Lord Mia, Queen of Packages. Maybe not so much. That didn't sound right at all.

  The couple of kids who saw Ashur also stared, their eyes wide as they took him in. He probably looked like a superhero to them. He was just so much taller and more built than any of the other men there. How did he keep what he was under wraps? Maybe people really did see what they wanted to.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as we left Omari at school. More attention always made me just feel like more of a target.

  "I just need to drop by the office before going on the first job," I said as we fell in step with everyone else on the sidewalk.

  "All right," Ashur said easily, his eyes constantly moving, checking out everyone nearby. "Works for me."

  He got a few looks on the street too as we walked. Unobtrusive he was not.

  When we got to the office, Ashur looked around and sat down in one of the chairs across the desk from me.

  "I know it isn't much," I said as I took my seat and powered on my computer. "But it's mine."

  "It's . . . uncluttered," he said, smiling. "Like you."

  I smiled at that as I brought up my email.

  "You sweet-talker you."

  He chuckled, bringing out a slim pad to work on while we sat. At least he could get some stuff done too, hopefully. I went through the emails that had come in since last night as quickly as I could. Still nothing from the anonymous tipper. He or she probably wasn't going to reply.

  If they wanted me to know their identity, they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of making sure they remained anonymous.

  Or maybe this whole mess was over.

  I could dream, right?

  "All right, ready," I said, shutting down my computer.

  Ashur slipped the pad back into his pocket and said, "Let's go."

  The first stop was a restaurant not that far from my office. I had instructions to ask the guy behind the counter for the mail and he was supposed to hand off the package I had to deliver. I didn't see the need for code words or phrases, but sometimes it made the client feel cool, so I let it slide. Not my business what got other people's rocks off.

  "Can you wait out here?" I asked Ashur as we stopped across the street from the place. "You're kind of a lot to take in."

  The front of the restaurant was glass. We could see a couple of people sitting at the tables towards the front, though I didn't know if they were diners this early.

  "I think I should go in with you," Ashur said, frowning. "And what do you mean 'a lot'?"

  "You're just . . . intimidating," I explained. "And you can watch me the whole time," I pointed out reasonably. "It's all windows."

  He sighed, scanning the place and the sidewalk in front of it, obviously weighing pros and cons.

  "All right, fine. But I'm coming in if I'm even a little suspicious something is off," he warned. "I don't care if it screws up the job if I think you might get hurt."

  "Deal," I said immediately. I knew I wasn't going to get a better offer from him. "Be back in a sec."

  He stepped back and leaned against the wall, his eyes focused on the restaurant already. I knew nothing was going to get past him.

  I crossed the street quickly and opened the door to the place, the tinkling of a tiny bell sound bringing everyone's attention over to me. The restaurant was a fusion cuisine place, a mixture of Korean, Indian, and Italian food. The smells were pretty interesting. Maybe I'd come back later some time to try the food out. Other than the food, the actual ambience of the place was pretty standard, with tile flooring, small tables to fit in the most diners in the cramped space, and a counter to order at.

  Now that I was inside, I could see that the people at the small tables weren't customers. The thin man with the balding head was working on some kind of ledger, and the heavier set man towards the back was on a small computer, typing away with his large fingers. How did he manage to type on that tiny thing with fingers that large?

  "How can I help you, miss?"

  I turned at the voice. The guy behind the counter was attractive in a slimy kind of way, with slicked back hair and a smooth shaven face, his smirk suggestive. I disliked him on sight. But liking him wasn't part of the job.

  I walked up to him. "Do you have the mail?" I asked quietly.

  His eyes cooled and sharpened, his smirk disappearing.

  "Who are you?" he demanded, his eyes scanning me, lingering on my chest. Not that there was much to see there. Probably just habit. "I don't know you."

  "I'm just the courier," I said calmly, but my hand was rubbing the hilt of a knife.

  This was starting to feel like I'd walked into something more than a simple pickup.

  "They were told specifically to come on their own," he said quietly. "This shows a lack of respect and trust that we don't appreciate."

  "I'm just doing my job," I said. "Maybe you should talk to my client if you have concerns."

  I heard the scrape of a chair against the floor behind me. When I glanced back, the
heavier set man was reaching over to push a button. The windows all went black.

  "Maybe the pretty . . . courier they sent is a good way to send a message," the thin man added as he stood as well. "Since they didn't seem to understand our talk."

  This was going downhill fast. I took a step towards the door, but the heavier man stepped neatly in front of it.

  "You're not going anywhere, sweetheart," he said in a surprisingly high voice for someone so large, his eyes scanning me in a way that made me want to take a shower.

  I slipped two knives out as the man behind the counter opened the little door that closed the space off from the rest of the restaurant.

  Okay.

  Three guys.

  Not great.

  I braced my feet, ready to defend myself. Whatever they had in mind to do, I knew I wasn't going to let them. Not without a fight that would make them regret it. The tinkling of bells had all of us turning to the door.

  Ashur stepped inside, his eyes scanning the place.

  The heavyset man turned around with a scowl.

  "Hey, buddy, we aren't open—"

  Ashur's face didn't change as he picked up the rotund man and easily tossed him across the room. I blinked as he crashed into two tables, breaking them on way to the floor.

  He hit with a meaty thud.

  The other two men stared at their friend, lying in a pile of broken table fragments, his surprisingly flat butt up in the air. Guess that wasn't where the calories went for him.

  "We'll just be leaving," Ashur said smoothly. "I'm sure you understand."

  Uh huh. Sounded good to me. I strode over to him. He stayed in the doorway as I stepped out onto the street, his eyes locked on the men still standing.

  The round guy was groaning as he slowly got up.

  "Gentlemen," Ashur said quietly, following me out.

  The other two stayed in place as they watched us leave, not making any move to follow.

  Maybe having Ashur around while I was working wasn't so bad after all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Where to now?" Ashur asked as we walked away.

  We didn't waste any time putting distance between us and that restaurant. They might have a lapse of judgment and decide to come after us after all.

  "Back to the office. I have to call my client and tell him it was a no go."

  "Are they still going to pay you?"

  "According to our contract, the first payment is nonrefundable if I make a good-faith effort to complete the job," I explained. "But that doesn't mean the client is going to be happy to hear that."

  "Yeah, I bet," Ashur said thoughtfully. He looked around at the street and pursed his lips. "Why don't we take my car? The garage it's in is right here." He pointed to the right.

  Being able to sit down for the rest of the way sounded nice. It would also offer the protection of a metal cage, and traffic wasn't as bad as it could be this time of day.

  "Sounds good."

  The attendant at the little booth to the entrance of the garage came right to attention when he saw Ashur.

  "Here to pick up the Wing, sir?"

  The Wing, huh? That was one of the most expensive and rarest cars available. Not exactly unobtrusive either with its chrome details and the flared sides.

  "No, I think something a little less flashy today, Giani."

  Giani sighed. "All right. I have to admit, I was looking forward to driving it out here."

  Ashur grinned. "I completely understand. When I have more time, I'll come and we'll take it out, all right?"

  "Really? That would be amazing, sir!" His young, angular face lit up with his smile as he stepped out of the booth. "I'll have the car out right away!" He disappeared into the depths of the garage as we moved over to the side.

  There were upholstered chairs and refrigerated water for the clients in the little waiting area nook. Fancy.

  "That was really sweet of you," I murmured.

  Ashur shrugged. "He's a good kid. And it'll only take a few minutes of my time."

  He said it so nonchalantly, but I knew most people in his position wouldn't even think about making the parking garage attendant's day like that. They probably wouldn't even remember his name. It was the little things that made of one's character, wasn't it? And everything I'd seen so far about Ashur told me the same thing—he was a good guy. A good man.

  The car the attendant brought out was low and sleek and black. It wasn't the car I'd seen before.

  "How many cars do you have in the city?" I asked as I sat down inside, taking in the various knobs and buttons and enjoying the cushioned seat.

  "A few," he admitted. "I justify it by saying anyone in the skein can use them when they're here," he said with a self-deprecating grin. He glanced over at me. "You're welcome to, also, by the way."

  I held up my hands. "I'd be way too afraid to get a scratch or a dent on it," I said, laughing. "Thanks, though."

  "I wouldn't care," he said, pulling out onto the street. "I have a full crew available for fixes anytime I need them." He looked over at me. "Then again . . . I think I'd like seeing you in something I bought for you specifically."

  Oh no. I shook my head emphatically. "Don't you dare," I warned.

  "Hmm." He turned carefully onto one of the main streets.

  "I mean it, Ashur. I won't take it."

  "I bet Omari would be ecstatic with a new car."

  "That's pretty low," I commented.

  He grinned. "I play to win."

  I dropped the subject, knowing I wasn't going to get anywhere with this at the moment. And he couldn't really mean it. Right?

  We got to my office building much faster than we would have otherwise, the car moving through traffic like a quiet shark. Ashur was able to pull off the magic trick of actually finding street parking, which I could never do. I shook my head as we got out and he put the car's alarm on.

  "Wonders will never cease," I said, looking over at the front door of my building. "I've never gotten a spot this good here."

  "Maybe that's because you never drive," Ashur pointed out.

  I shrugged. He wasn't wrong. My car wasn't exactly on par with his and I got around the city dome pretty well without it, for the most part.

  We went into the building and I unlocked my office. We each took up our previous stations. We were already falling into a routine, but I cautioned myself not to get used to it. This was temporary. He couldn't stay in the city dome with me indefinitely. He had his own responsibilities and life to get back to. People who depended on him. I felt sadness trying to creep in at the thought of him leaving and squashed it hard. There was no use crying over something that couldn't be changed.

  And I had work to do. I suppressed a groan as I called Richard, my client. Though I was pretty sure that wasn't really his name. I really didn't want to have this talk, but there was no point in delaying it.

  "Hello?"

  "Hello, Richard. I have some bad news. I'm calling because I was unable to pick up the package this morning," I said, using my professional voice. It was obviously different than my normal one because Ashur looked up at me with a raised brow.

  A pause on the other end of the line.

  "Why not?" he asked, his voice hard. "The instructions were simple."

  "The . . . gentleman behind the counter said it was a sign of disrespect that you didn't come on your own. And then he and two others in the restaurant attacked me."

  He muttered an oath. "Fine," he snapped. "Give me a full refund. I'll find someone else."

  "My contract states I keep the deposit if I make a good-faith effort to finish the job," I explained patiently. "I will not be issuing a refund."

  "That's ridiculous!" he blurted out. "You didn't even do anything!"

  I leaned back in my chair. "I went to the designated pickup location and followed your instructions. Not only was I unable to secure the package, my personal safety was put at risk. So, yes, I did do something."

  I kept my voice low a
nd calm. Shouting wouldn't help. Even if I really wanted to yell at the little shit.

  "That is bullshit! How do I even know that's what happened?" he demanded. "How do I know you're not just pocketing the money and avoiding the actual work?"

  That really irritated me.

  "You don't," I said. "But you came to me because I have a good reputation. It isn't in my best interest to lie. And not following through with the job means I don't get the second payment. Why would I shoot myself in the foot like that?"

  "I'm going to have my lawyer look through your contract," he snarled. "This is crazy."

  "Go ahead. It's ironclad." I met Ashur's eyes. His were filled with amusement. "And word of advice? I wouldn't try to hire someone else. You'll just waste more money."

  He went on another tirade.

  So I hung up.

  I'd delivered the news I had to deliver. I wasn't being paid to be his punching bag.

  Both of Ashur’s brows went up this time.

  "Get a lot of douche bags?" he asked.

  "It happens. And I'm sure I'm not alone."

  "I have to say," he leaned back and crossed his arms as he regarded me. "It was pretty hot watching you handle him."

  I laughed, surprised. "Sure it was."

  He smiled back as he stood up.

  "What are you doing?" I asked, pushing away from the desk.

  "Well, you're saying you don't believe me," he murmured, stepping around the desk and leaning back against it. He pulled me to my feet and up against him. "And I certainly don't want you to think I'm a liar."

  I definitely felt the fact that he was telling the truth.

  "Ashur—"

  His mouth came down on mine. He gave me a kiss that made my toes curl in my boots, my hands grab onto his hard waist. By the time he pulled back, both of us were breathing hard. My heart was pounding and his wasn't doing any better. His eyes were hot as they stared into mine.

  Why'd he stop? The question must have been clear on my face because he smirked.

  "I'd finish what I started, but . . ." he held up his watch. "Time to get Omari."

  I thunked my head against his chest in frustration. I'd never been on such a strict schedule before.