Obsidian Mask Read online

  Obsidian Mask

  Copyright 2015 Scarlett Dawn

  First Edition

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of these publications may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover and Formatting by ShoutLines Design

  Photography by SC Photo

  Cover Model: Tommy Barresi

  Editing by Rogena Mitchell-Jones Manuscript Service

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Copyright

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  About the Author

  Preview of the Cold Mark Series

  Preview of King Hall

  November 15, 2014—The day after the charity event…

  I had lied to Daniil.

  I knew nothing good would come from the fabrication.

  No one gets away with lying to the Russian mafia without repercussions.

  But I hadn’t liked his backhanded ways, nor had I enjoyed the fact I had been duped. It took me too long to catch on about the alcohol here at the resort, and I wanted to verify it by saying I was on my period.

  I wasn’t. No bleeding for me yet.

  I was bloated though, so it was on its way.

  I would deal with Daniil on that issue when my monthly friend really came.

  With the shadow of Least Ugly following me from Daniil’s room to mine, I waved to Zane as he came out of his room. He scratched his head full of messy curls, wearing only his boxers. In the resort’s hallway. I vaguely wondered if their group had rented the entire floor.

  Zane stared at my hair as I hit the elevator button before he banged on the door opposite his. “Stash, you bastard. Open up!” He banged louder. “I know you stole my boots.” He paused. “And my fucking alarm clock.” He grinned as the elevator opened, saying more softly, “Nice hair.”

  “Same to you,” I replied. My red curls were a disaster of their own. I needed a shower and caffeine to wake up. Our flight wasn’t until later today, well after the last farewell outing Mrs. Donovan had scheduled for this fun-filled event. She had scheduled The Ernest Hemmingway Home & Museum, a quiet affair. I merely thanked God it didn’t involve blood. She had taken mercy on the worn out contenders and the snobs donating to her charity.

  I blinked when a blonde open Stash’s door from inside. I paused halfway in the elevator, my shadow still…well, my shadow guard. I gawked. She had a blue dress shirt on that wasn’t buttoned up. And that was all—bare under underneath and showing it blatantly.

  Zane glanced down at her as she leaned against the doorframe, his gaze darting over her voluminous curves. He peered back over her head, shouting, “Stash! I want my shit! Now!”

  “Is Cara awake yet?” the blonde asked.

  Zane nodded. “She’s finishing getting dressed.”

  Another blonde exited. But it was from Zane’s room.

  She looked just like the other one. Although, she was clothed. Twins.

  Nope. Scratch that.

  Another blonde peeked around the naked blonde’s head from inside Stash’s room, asking, “Cara, I think you took my purse last night.” She looked just like the other two. Triplets. “Does that one have a toothbrush in it?”

  The elevator started buzzing, and I jumped.

  The triplets and Zane turned their attention to me…

  A fourth blonde came out of Zane’s room. Where did they find them?

  My jaw was hanging wide, but my reporter instinct came to the fore. I had to ask, “Quadruplets?”

  The fourth blonde shook her head. “No. We’re all each a year apart.” She waved her hand when I blinked. “We get that all the time, though. You’re not the first to ask.”

  “Hmm,” I hummed, staring at Zane’s hair. Now I got it. So I replayed our previous greeting but reversed, “Nice hair.”

  He chuckled, playing along. “Same to you.”

  I waved—my hair always looked like this after sleeping—and pressed the button for my floor as he started shouting at Stash again. My shadow slipped into the elevator with me. I needed to hurry.

  Getting out on the green floor I noticed a quiet, smallish man resting against a wall. His eyes were closed, but when I stepped out of the elevator, they opened. He surveyed Least Ugly, his gaze instantly darting to me, his eyes assessing. My eyebrows came together as he and Least Ugly did a little nod toward each other as if they knew one another.

  After walking past him, I asked my shadow quietly, “Who was that?”

  “Ruslan.”

  “Who’s Ruslan?”

  “Ms. Lerrus’ bodyguard.”

  “She has a bodyguard?”

  He snorted. “Not happily.”

  Then Ruslan wasn’t hers.

  It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out who had stuck a guard on her.

  My lovely lover had been busy.

  My attention altered, and I stared at the other site in front of me in the hallway. Brent and Cole were sleeping on the floor outside a door. They still wore their competitor’s attire from the event yesterday—winning, of course.

  And Ember had taken a room next to mine after breaking it off with them.

  Giddy with reporter’s delight, I quickened my strides. They started to stir, their brows puckering in my haste past them, so I opened my clutch and yanked my keycard out. Camera. I needed my fucking camera. While I had burned the truth about one story, I wasn’t against this one. It was a beautiful moment. To be caught on film.

  I charged inside my room, going straight for my duffle and yanked my camera out. I turned back toward the door. And stopped. Staring at the adjoining door opened on my side, but not Ember’s room. I blinked at the room. There wasn’t anything else to be had in here. She had already bargained—and taken—the photo of true value.

  Glancing at my bed, I gawked.

  Ember was in my fucking bed. Under the covers. The bitch’s fire engine long red hair spilling over my damn pillow. Sleeping. And snoring very softly.

  What the hell?

  Christ. Later. I had a reporter’s delight to take care of.

  I raced back across my room and threw open the door, it banging loudly with camera in hand…and they were gone! I glanced up and down the hallway frantically and saw them at the elevator, rubbing their faces and running their hands through their hair…just before they got in after the doors opened. Shit!

  I slammed my door shut, hopefully waking sleeping beauty.

  It did. I walked back over to the bed.

  She was stretching, looking pretty damn comfortable and rested.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” I was trying for calm. It wasn’t working so much.

  She pointed to her room, yawning. “I came back to my room to get some seclusion and rest after the gun control event, and I did for a little while…” her lips thinned, “well, it got a little loud in there later in the evening, so I came in here to get some sleep since I figured you wouldn’t be coming back.” She scratched her nose with a languid hand. “You bang around a lot when you’re getting ready, you know? Lots of hostility from the sounds of it.” She glanced at my hair. “Although I can see why.”<
br />
  No way was I going to tell her she was right. I stated dryly, “Brent and Cole left. You can go back to your room now.” I paused. “And stay there. Unless you want me to run an article on you hiding from them.”

  She yawned again and rolled out of bed, wearing a huge red thermal that read DEATH COMES and a pair of black gym shorts that were ten times too large. She had to hold up the shorts to keep them on.

  “Do you not know your own size?” I gestured at her clothes.

  She looked down and picked at the shirt. “I like these.”

  I walked to her adjoining door, opened it, and motioned for her to leave. She did after grabbing her cell phone, the gun, and the knife under my pillow. She bumped my shoulder hard as she walked into her room.

  These people were all fucking crazy. At least Daniil made up for it in other ways.

  I locked my adjoining door and shoved a chair behind it.

  There. That might help.

  I went into motion, hurrying to shower. And…banged around again afterward because it was no use. My hair was just inhuman bizarre, but luckily, my face was back to normal coloring. Dressing in a long white, soft cotton sundress that floated around my ankles, and a white scarf I tied once around my neck and let hang down my bare back, I slipped on a pair of pearl-jeweled flip-flops and grabbed my purse so I could store my camera and recorder. I was ready to go.

  I entered the lobby fifteen minutes later where I was supposed to meet the group heading to the Hemmingway Home. There were muffins, Danishes, and juice waiting on a courtesy table for the milling group. I made a beeline to the table, grabbing two muffins and juice. My stomach growled in appreciation.

  Scanning the back of the lobby, since that was where Lion Security would be, I spotted them. They were like a blob of black paint against all the light and airy colors in the lobby. I mean seriously people, it was going to be over a hundred degrees today and they were wearing all black. Yes, some wore shorts and t-shirts, but the only one wearing any color was Ember—from the red skulls on her shirt. But this was Key West! Live a little.

  Daniil stood next to his only daughter, Eva—who was staring at me with hostility. He wore a pair of wide legged black linen pants that were rolled casually at the bottom, black flip-flops, and a black and silver island shirt with short sleeves that button down the front. It had an open V-neck neck, showing his muscular chest. A pair of black shades sat on top of his head, pulling his hair back from his face. He looked damn good.

  He followed Eva’s gaze, his eyebrows together after staring at her face. His perusal stopped when his eyes landed on me, and his eyes went to my hair first—come on!—and then down my frame, quickly hooding. Hmm. Guess I had chosen a decent outfit.

  Deciding to take my chances—since Daniil and I weren’t public (too many enemies on his side)—I headed their way, finishing off one of the muffins and tossing the wrapper before beginning on the other one. It was strawberry. My favorite. Sipping on my drink, I went up to my nemesis. “Morning, Ember. You’re looking refreshed this morning. Sleep well?”

  She had scowled for a second before Brent and Cole looked her way, quickly altering her expression to remote coolness. “Yes, fine. Thank you for asking, Elizabeth.” She glanced around, discerning how most of Daniil’s children were watching me with not-so-friendly expressions. “How did you sleep? I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

  Bitch. “Fine.” I shouldn’t have baited her in the first place. Daniil’s kids were still in hate mode after finding out about us last night. “Thank you for asking.”

  Daniil’s lips were twitching, and he quickly looked away and began speaking to Carl and Anna. Grigori, on the other hand, was decidedly blank faced, although he was staring at both Ember and me. I went to nibble at my muffin, but it had a large chunk taken out of it.

  What?

  Glancing to my right, Ember munched on a piece of strawberry muffin, holding it delicately between her fingers.

  Oh. My. Shit-fuck-hate-her. “I’m hungry! Get your own!”

  A few of her colleagues were chuckling, watching us. Again. Snooping damn group.

  The sad thing was I kind of fit right in being a reporter.

  “Mmm,” she murmured. “It’s good.”

  “I know that—” I stopped abruptly.

  My head cocked. I listened…and slowly froze.

  Growing up, there are certain noises you become accustomed to—like the ringing of a bell in high school. You know when you hear it you need to get to class. Or the sound of a whistle blowing in a swimming pool. When you hear that, you know to look at the lifeguards and hope they didn’t just catch you doing something wrong. Or, in my father’s case, it was his feet. When you heard my father’s stomping footfalls, you knew you were in trouble and you needed to straighten up, shut up, and take the ass chewing he was about to give.

  And…listening…those same clicking footfalls were on the tile behind me.

  It couldn’t be. There was no way. I had ignored his and my mother’s calls. I hadn’t known what to say to them, so I now had thirty-eight missed phone calls on my cell. And just as many messages on my voicemail I hadn’t bothered to listen to.

  Perhaps I should have answered just one.

  My face drained of color and my vision blurred.

  I didn’t want to look back.

  I reviewed that thought.

  No. Curiosity wasn’t even strong enough in this reporter.

  I said a small prayer that I was hallucinating.

  “Christ,” Ember muttered, staring as her eyebrows formed a harsh line. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken your food. You look like you’re going to faint.” She stilled. “Are you diabetic or something?”

  The group went silent, staring at me.

  Daniil’s gaze snapped in my direction, probably at the actual worry in Ember’s tone. His eyes darted over my features, and he literally started moving toward me…but then, I heard it.

  My father’s voice. Moving closer. He shouted, “Elizabeth! Is that you?”

  Daniil halted, and his gaze snapped toward my father, his eyes narrowing.

  Apparently, he didn’t know what Dad looked like.

  Embarrassingly, I whimpered, but I quickly bit my lip to stop the sound.

  Ember whistled low and started chuckling softly. “Oh. This is too good.” Evil bitch.

  “Elizabeth!” my mother stated. Lord help me. My mom was with him. They were getting real close. “I know you can hear us, young lady!”

  Another whine left me, and I didn’t look anywhere even close to Daniil as I slowly turned around. I licked my lips nervously and peered up from the floor. My parents stopped right in front of me. And my aunt Susan and my cousin Katie.

  It was a real family affair.

  I croaked, “Mom. Dad. What are you doing here?”

  Zane started choking off to my right, and I even heard Grigori clear his throat a few times. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Daniil freeze. Perfect.

  Dad’s gaze darted all over the group I was standing with, and he muttered under his breath, “No wonder.” His regard landed directly behind me where Grigori stood. There was instant disapproval in his eyes…and his perusal continued as he grabbed my bicep, yanking me next to him, damn protectively. His inspection stopped on the bodyguards, and he sucked in a breath…and when they landed on Daniil…it was like instant hate hardened his stare. Slowly, he finished his scan, and I kept silent. Nothing said was better than babbling right now. He didn’t seem to like Zane or Roman much, either. And then they landed on Ember.

  She stiffened under his attention.

  Dad asked, “Are you Ember Lerrus? The one my daughter,” he shook me by the arm, “was fighting with?”

  My mouth bobbed. “It wasn’t Ember. It was Chrissy.”

  “She was in the photo with you.”

  Her eyes were huge and she nudged my arm but continued to stare at my dad. “Have you given him the check?” When I shook my head, she nudged me again, say
ing quickly, “Give him the damn check.”

  My father wasn’t a big man in stature. He was only about five foot, nine inches and lean. But when he looks at you…you know he means business. It was one of the reasons why he was such a great preacher. People instantly knew he believed in what he was speaking about. I didn’t blame Ember for being nervous around him.

  I handed her my muffin and drink, then lifted my purse, digging through it and pulling out her money order. “Dad, Ember donated this.” I held the check out, and he took it with his free hand.

  He stopped, staring down at the numbers on it.

  Ember’s shoulders relaxed. She even started eating my muffin.

  He cleared his throat and pocketed the check, stating calmly, “Thank you for your generosity, Ms. Lerrus. God, the church, and I thank you.” Then, he clamped a hand down on her shoulder, startling her enough that she spilled my juice. “Now, my wife and I would like to have a word with you two.”

  “Huh?” Ember mumbled around a mouthful of muffin, her gaze frantic.

  “An intervention, of sorts.” He started hauling us away from the group.

  “Dad!” I hissed, tugging on my arm. “Don’t bring her into this.” Christ, my editor was going to kill me if word of this got out.

  “Elizabeth! Not. One. Word,” Dad growled low.

  I still opened my mouth.

  Mom interrupted, “Elizabeth, so help me!”

  Oh. I shut my mouth. That wasn’t a tone that boded well if I argued.

  Zane started choking hard.

  The rest of the group watched us being pulled away, with gaping mouths.

  “Sir, this really isn’t necessary,” Ember pled with Dad loudly, trying to get his attention as he hauled us toward the side of the room. “Elizabeth and I weren’t fighting then. We’re friends now.” She glanced at me frantically for help.

  I kept my mouth shut. I knew better. When Dad and Mom got it into their heads—which they obviously had, traveling all the way down here—to do something, they did it. With passion. There was no stopping them.

  “Sure you are,” Dad stated dryly, depositing us in two seats in the corner of the lobby—unfortunately, not too far away from where he had yanked us away. Everyone was staring, and I sunk back into the chair and rested my forehead on my hand. My stomach rolled, now decidedly queasy. This was mortifying.