Page 5 of Onyx Realm

She would sleep here. In my bed.

I continued to hold her fingers, standing guard over her and content to stare. Like some fool Eros hit with his arrow.

“Markos! Where’d you go, lad?” my aunt hollered, bustling through the front door.

I remained quiet and let her find me. When she did, she huffed. “That’s uncanny. You’ve never had a woman to your place, let alone in your bed.”

I arched a brow. That showed how much she watched me.

“Theos,” she tutted, going to sit alongside the woman. “What happened to her?”

“Trouble with thugs along the way,” I said coolly. “Iosif is dealing with them.”

As Aunt Dorothea worked, I watched over my guest. This woman was going to be a problem, but the idea of her being in pain was something I couldn’t stand.

“Here, do something with this,” the old woman snapped.

I took the tubular gold purse that was barely larger than my hand. Opening it, I riffled through the contents. No phone, which made sense. The mercenaries probably dumped it. There were also no IDs or any money.

Frowning, I took my own phone out. Dorothea gave me the stink eye, and I retreated to the hall where I still could look into the room.

“Iosif,” I clipped into the device when the call went through. “Did they have her passport or driver’s license in the Suburban by any chance?”

My cousin hmphed. “Didn’t see anything.”

“Look again,” I ground out.

“Um, yeah, that’s not possible. We already torched it.”

Tightening my grip on the phone, I walked into the kitchen, out of earshot of the village gossip.

“Markos?” he cautioned, feeling the impending storm clouds with that sailor’s sixth sense. “What’s up?”

“They took the wrong girl,” I muttered.

“Atlas will kill you,” Iosif whistled.

Atlas would, without a doubt, but it was his brother who would play with me first. “Do me a favor and don’t call Zephyr.”

Iosif snorted. “Wasn’t planning on it. But he’s going to find out.”

“I’m going to see them now,” I said and hung up. Lifting my eyes to the three barred cross hanging above the kitchen door, I murmured a prayer. Divine intervention would be the only thing to save us in the next few hours.

Chapter 3 – Markos

The hour-and-a-half drive down the coast to Tampa flew by on autopilot. I wove through traffic, going fifteen over the legal limit like every other Floridian. I stopped in front of a glass office building and stared at the top floor. It might be only nine in the morning, but knowing Atlas, he’d been here since before the sun rose. Tossing my keys to the valet, I strode inside.

The receptionist’s smile was wide and glossy, her perfectly white teeth flashing. She flicked a glance at my face, then found somewhere else to stare.

“Beautiful day, Mr. Demetriou,” she chirped. Her blouse was cut low, and she didn’t shy away from tempting me to look.

But she didn’t want me. Pretty girls like her never did. The only reason she flirted with one so physically marred was because she knew I was rich.

“It is indeed,” I said absently. As always, the water called me. On sunny days like this, a Publix sub, a case of beer, and the boat made for the perfect trio. Unless I made a compelling case, there would be no more of those days in my future.

They would bury me out there, under the waves.

Whatever else the young woman was going to say was cut off as I pushed through the swinging security blockade and strode to the elevator.

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