Page 22 of Awaken the Dragon
Answers, finally. It was a start.
Chapter Eight
On her second morning in Burgess, Shola was determined to move forward. First step in doing that was a call to the hotel to inquire about her delivery, which ended with a long, rushed explanation about things being in an upheaval there because of the murder. Of course, how could she have forgotten something so heinous? Taking a moment to offeradurafor the transcendence of the woman’s life was a necessity. And only after the prayer did she realize how unbalanced she still felt here in the Western World.
She left her room, determined to concentrate more on her beliefs and destiny today. All the rest was a major distraction that she could not afford. Dressed in a long red skirt and top that hung slightly off her shoulders, she walked through hallways that were familiar to her now, thanks to the impromptu tour she had taken last night. The one that had ended with Theo and his many questions.
After a looping turn through one of the longer hallways, there was a larger area with glossy floors stretching left to right and a winding staircase going down in front of her. A glass barrier protected from the twenty-foot drop should she get too close to the edge of the floor, which she had almost done during her continued fascination with this place. She took the stairs slowly, picking up the scent of food as she came to the bottom.
Following that scent and the rumble that immediately began in her stomach, she rounded a corner to yet another huge high-ceilinged room with two long tables and chairs in its center. Massive portraits of landscapes hung on smooth walls in measured intervals. Mountains, crisp blue skies, rolling hills of grass and wings. A jolt of surprise and what might have been awareness stopped her in front of a picture of huge black wings.
“Majestic.”
She turned at the voice to see Ziva across the room with a plate in hand, moving along the marble countertop filled with pots and trays of food.
“Yes. It is.” She stared at the woman a moment longer than she probably should have, intrigued either by her skintight green pants and matching green halter top or the spiked hairstyle she wore—she hadn’t figured out which one yet.
Then there was their conversation in the dress shop yesterday, the one where Ziva shared her unsolicited opinion that Shola’s wedding was not meant to be. She hadn’t questioned Ziva’s comments because she didn’t want to engage in the conversation. Nobody was supposed to know her true reason for being here. Not even her parents knew. They thought the marriage itself would protect the Yoruba people of Mobo from being invaded by and eventually overruled by outsiders. Only Shola and the great Orisha Oya knew differently.
“Powerful too,” Ziva continued.
Shola turned away from the portrait and walked to one of the tables. Presuming it was self-serve, she picked up a glass and moved to the other end of the counter where Ziva was pouring orange juice.
“If you stare at the portrait long enough, you can feel the power emanating from it. Only a mighty one could fly with wings like that.” Ziva sounded like a tour guide.
The woman’s plate was heavy with food. Muffins, two types of bacon, sausage, eggs, waffles, and she just added a healthy scoop of what was probably strawberry jam. When she looked up to see Shola staring at her, she only shrugged. “An empty well is of no use to anyone,” she said.
Shola lifted her glass to her lips and sipped. “True,” she admitted after swallowing. Minutes later she was seated at the table, a much smaller plate than Ziva’s in front of her.
They ate in silence for a few moments before she asked, “What do you do here besides work security?”
“When I’m finished with breakfast, I’ll head downtown to the Tower. I have some dreaded paperwork that I’ve been putting off, and if I don’t get to it soon, Theo will blow his cork.”
“Is he a mean boss?” There was a definite intensity about the man. His physique combined with that chilling look she had seen him with when they’d climbed out of the truck at the dress shop yesterday were both intimidating. It wouldn’t be surprising if his staff feared him for those reasons, even though she hadn’t sensed fear from either Ziva or Reece yesterday.
“He’s fair and he’s focused,” Ziva told her. “He demands one hundred percent of all his agents.”
“He also demands honesty.”
This deep brisk voice was new to Shola, and she looked up to her left to see another man entering the room. He was also tall, his arms bulging with muscles and tattoos. He wore black jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, black boots and a scowl on an otherwise attractive face. His skin matched the light brown color of the biscuits on the counter and the distinct contrast of his long black locks and thick beard added an intense edge to his appearance. His eyes were a tawny brown color with what looked like sparks of orange.
None of them wore their sunglasses inside the Office. Theo, Ziva and Reece had kept them on while at the dress shop, but inside this place they were always off. With that thought, Shola immediately looked back at Ziva. Her eyes were hazel with green flecks.
“Theo doesn’t like when people aren’t up-front with him about everything. Especially clients,” the man spoke as he glared at Shola.
“Don’t mind Steele, he’s always grumpy,” Ziva told her. “Especially when he’s hungry.”
The guy, Steele, looked away from her to frown at Ziva. Then he walked over to the counter and began fixing his plate, as if Ziva’s words were right on point. Before Shola could ask more questions, another man came in.
“And here’s Steele’s big brother, Magnum. They’re both prickly and deadly, depending on which time of day you catch them.”
After Ziva’s sort of introduction, Shola found herself staring at yet another pretty large guy. She was beginning to think that being tall was a prerequisite to working for the Legion Security Company. This was the person who had come to the hotel yesterday morning. The one who was supposed to take over as her guard, before Theo changed his mind. Magnum’s skin tone was much darker than his brother’s, but his locked hair was the same, only a little longer as it scraped his waist. And his eyes were different. They were a wine color with bits of red that absolutely made her think of him as deadly. Both brothers were extremely well built, their jeans belted around tapered waists, upper bodies swollen with muscles.
“You’re from Mobo,” Magnum said after fixing his plate and sitting across from her.
“Yes,” she replied.
“But the Odò Guard didn’t stay with you here. Why is that?”
