A Nature of Conflict (The Redemption Saga Book 3), page 13
“Whose side are you on?” Vincent asked him. If he believed her story, what was this about?
“The IMPO’s,” Director Thompson answered. “If you keep doing a good job, like you did in Texas, I’ll look out for you. One fuck-up, though, and I’m shutting this down. Do you understand? I can’t let mistakes slide. I have to protect this organization from the whispers of WMC and criminal corruption.”
“You can fucking try,” Sawyer told him harshly.
Vincent heard grunts of agreement from his team. He didn’t like that his team was going against the director, but he agreed with Sawyer.
“I’ll succeed,” Director Thompson snapped back. “One step out of line on a case. One broken protocol. I have some sympathy for you, but I won’t let you take down the IMPO with you if you fuck up.”
Vincent knew that was going to come up. Everyone was looking for reasons to break this team up, behind closed doors where he couldn’t see who was for or against them. Now he knew where the director stood. He’d gone out and confirmed her story on his own and decided he would give her and the team one chance.
“Thank you, sir.” Vincent stood back up. “Is there anything else?”
“No. Keep out of trouble tomorrow at the WMC. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” they all replied, except Sawyer. Vincent looked at her and she shrugged, remaining silent. It was almost like she was saying she only answered to Vincent and the team. Vincent was proud of having her respect like that, and terrified of the power that came from it.
Later in the day, Vincent took Sawyer out shopping. They had left the IMPO building the moment the director released them. They’d gone back to the hotel and just relaxed. Elijah, Zander, and Jasper went to the pool. Quinn disappeared to the rooftop with Kaar and the wolves.
He’d grabbed her and brought her to the mall before she could go hide in her room.
“I hate this,” she muttered.
“There’s a dress code for the show we’re going to,” Vincent reminded her. “I would like to get you something. A gift.” It would be a gift to himself, really. He wanted to see her in a dress.
She narrowed her eyes at him as they walked through the mall. He just gave her a small smile, trying to pretend there was nothing but the obvious answer. “Isn’t this something we shouldn’t be doing? Doesn’t this look bad for the team?”
“No, I always take one teammate out while in New York for something nice. Depends on who needs it. Zander and I went to see a Broadway performance. Hamilton. He had a good time.” He chuckled. “It’s a fun performance, which he needed.”
“But people think I’m yours now, and not in the bedroom sense,” Sawyer reminded him.
“You’re not wrong.” He sighed, his mood deflating at that. “But I won’t let them completely run my life through rumors.”
“Good,” she said, grinning. “What’s the dress code?”
“Black tie,” he answered. “I was thinking something simple and black for you.”
“Oh, amazing.” Her voice had a false excitement. “Are you going to tell me what the show is?”
“No.” He couldn’t tell her the show, or she would find any reason not to go. It was a risk, a dangerous one that could backfire on him, but he was going to try. He hoped she understood his reasoning when he finally did tell her.
Vincent stopped in front of a little boutique and pulled her in. It suited his needs. He found an attendant quickly and Sawyer groaned when he started talking. “We’re looking for a simple black cocktail gown for her. Needs to pair well with flats. It can be as short or long as she’s comfortable with. Nothing sparkling or jeweled - it’s not her style. Simple and practical.”
“Know my style?” Sawyer inquired, elbowing him.
“I know you,” he teased.
She laughed at his response then followed the attendant away.
Vincent found a seat near the dressing rooms and watched Sawyer, with an armful of gowns, walk out of view.
“I’m ready with dress number one,” she announced. She stepped out and Vincent couldn’t breathe.
He always thought she was capable of looking beautiful, since she was in a unique way. He’s always found her physique to be enticing and dangerous. She owned the space around her, even in sweats and a sports bra, even when she was trying to hide.
The floor-length mermaid gown made her look like a dark goddess. The attendant must have convinced her to release her hair from the ponytail, since it fell in thick and uncontrolled waves over her bare shoulders. The neckline plunged, revealing the small amount of cleavage she had. The waist was pulled in and gave her a curve to her hips that he’d never noticed.
His mouth was dry. She was stunning.
“Well? It shows off the scar on my chest, but any dress would, I think. That one or any of the others.” Sawyer stepped in front of the mirror and he noticed that she glided in the gown - no swagger, but rather, more proper. She turned away from him to look at herself and his eyes went straight for her toned ass. “Vincent? What do you think? Will it work for the thing?”
He just kept staring at her. A simple change of clothes had changed her. Her posture was different. No more simple, easy slouch to her shoulders, as she kept herself relaxed. They were square and her back was straight. It made the more feminine features of her face come out, which he could see in her reflection in the mirror. The defined cheekbones she had, the fuller bottom lip, scarred or not.
Stunning.
“Vincent?” She turned to him and he almost couldn’t breathe. The spin was perfect. Who was this woman? He’d never expected Sawyer to be good in a gown. It was like she lived in them and he knew that wasn’t the case.
“Yes.” He was decided. Even if she didn’t wear it for their date, he was buying it for her. That gown didn’t belong on anyone else. “How much?”
“Four thousand,” the attendant whispered to him.
“We’ll take it.”
“Excuse me?” Sawyer snapped. “You aren’t buying me a four thousand dollar dress.”
“Consider it an early birthday present,” he told her, pulling out his credit card. To himself. It was an early birthday present to himself. She wouldn’t sleep with him, which hurt like hell, but he could enjoy her in that dress for an evening.
“Damn it, Vincent,” she muttered, and walked back to the dressing room. She yanked the tags off before shutting the door and handed them to the attendant.
“Were the others as good as that one?” he asked the attendant before she ran the charge.
“That one was my favorite for her,” she answered softly. “It’s a gorgeous gown. She wears it well, though it reveals the scar.”
He hadn’t even noticed the scar. She walked out and dropped the dress on the counter for it to be packed away.
“Thank you,” Sawyer mumbled.
“No problem. It looked great. You deserve to have something nice.”
“I have nice things,” she retorted. “Like my Audi. My BMW.”
“But no gowns. Nothing nice for you to wear.” Vincent took the bag from the attendant after sliding his credit card away. In a softer voice, he continued. “Nothing that makes others realize you’re beautiful, like I think you are.”
“Don’t get romantic on me now,” she whispered, taking the bag from him. “Save it for the date. Plus, I know I’m not an ugly duckling. I just don’t care about looking good over comfort.”
Vincent laughed, shaking his head.
Next was shoes, which Sawyer tried on a simple pair of black flats and decided that was it. He watched her buy several other items, even getting a bit curious when she went to the stockings and got a pair of lacy thigh highs.
“You know a lot about dressing up for a woman who cares more about comfort,” he mentioned nonchalantly. He wanted to see what sort of information she would offer him in exchange. He wanted to learn more.
“I’ve played ‘pretty date’ or ‘hired whore’ for work before,” she replied casually. “If I needed information about a job, or a way into the building without cloaking, I could dress for it.”
“Really?” Vincent was curious.
“I got inside a mansion for one of my hits by pretending to be his brother’s escort.” She shrugged.
“I’ll remember that,” he murmured, thinking about the possibilities.
“Don’t. I hate that shit.” Sawyer huffed, rolling her eyes. “The things I used to do were easier and safer with as little human interaction as possible.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow, but he would give her that point. He didn’t question it as he paid for everything she was going to wear with the dress.
“Ready to go back to the hotel and relax for the day? Tomorrow will be rough on you and then we’ll have a late night. You might want to get some extra sleep tonight, pass out early.” Vincent tried to make is sound casual as he walked out of the mall with her.
“You noticed I haven’t been sleeping.” She called him out.
“Yeah.” He wasn’t going to lie to her.
“It’s all of this.” She waved around, and he guessed she was referencing New York. “I’m worried about tomorrow. About what the WMC is trying to do.”
“What do you want to do to stop it?” He was always so curious about what she wanted, what she thought would work to solve a problem. He was desperate to get inside her head and knew he never would truly know what was going on in there.
“Fight them for it.” Sawyer’s tone was hard. Her face was emotionless, but he knew she meant it. “They can take me off this team over my cold, dead body.”
Vincent didn’t have an argument against that. He knew she meant every word.
10
Quinn
Quinn met James in the IMAS lobby on Tuesday morning. The team was headed for the WMC for mental health evaluations. He was alone for whatever this was.
“Quinn. How are you?” James kindly greeted him.
He liked their handler. James was a good male who looked out for them as if they were his own children, even though they were adults. Quinn never knew or had a father, but he privately wished James could have been that person.
“Confused,” Quinn admitted. “Why am I here?” He held onto Shade’s collar with his right hand, letting his fingers scratch the wolf underneath where it was itchy. Scout stayed pressed to his left side, nervous and tense. The wolf didn’t want to be touched, though, and had never let Quinn really touch him when he was nervous. He knew that Sawyer could soothe Scout, but he didn’t have her around. Scout liked and trusted that woman a lot.
“They need you to hear them to.” James sighed. “Come with me. I only know very rough details.”
“I’ll listen,” Quinn promised. He walked with James to an elevator, but instead of going up, they went down. He frowned at his companion for the meeting, but James didn’t offer any more information.
They went down three floors, deep underground and left the elevator. Quinn was more comfortable with this than he was on the street above. He could feel the earth on the other side of the walls and knew that if anything messed with him down here, if anything threatened his life, he could bring the building down. Not only could he bring the building down, but he and those with him would be perfectly safe. It would be easy.
“Now that we’re down here.” James pulled him to the side. “This is about Druids.”
Quinn snarled in response. He should have guessed. His temper immediately flared, and he started to seriously think about how easy it would be to bring the building down.
“They need you,” James whispered. “Quinn, there’s Druids down in South America that are believed to be killing off villages of people, destroying land. I don’t know many details.”
“Where?” he demanded. He could already guess, but he wanted to know for certain.
“The Amazon rainforest,” James told him. “Right now, I’m telling them that you will only give them what you know about Druid powers, you will only work in a consulting position. I don’t want you going in that rainforest. From what you told me before-”
“I won’t go in that rainforest,” Quinn growled. “Ever. I’ll tell them what I know, then we’re done. I’m not going after Druids. I’m not getting involved in whatever is going on down there.”
“You knew something was going on?” James asked, looking confused.
“I could feel it all the way in Georgia,” he answered.
“Okay.” James looked shocked but recovered quickly. Quinn knew he wasn’t normal. He knew Elijah had been shocked by the information as well, knowing he could feel Druids that far away when they used the full strength of their magic. “Let’s go meet these people.”
James led him to a meeting room and Quinn went in before his wolves, so he could make sure the room was safe, that no threats were there.
It was full of soldiers of various ranks he didn’t care about. He knew them. He could understand the patches with chevrons and stars. He just didn’t give a shit. He was the most powerful Magi in the room and therefore the dominant one. They would listen to him or he would leave.
“Let me introduce you all to Special Agent Quinn Judge, son of Fiona, a Druid of Northern Canada,” James announced. “You requested his help with your current mission.”
“It’s good to meet you,” one man said as he stood up. Quinn didn’t shake the hand offered when the colonel stepped in front of him. “I’m Colonel Fischer, Harold Fischer.”
“I hope I can help.” Quinn kept it short. He hoped he could help them not get themselves killed. Nothing more.
“We think you can,” the colonel mused. “What do you know about the Amazon rainforest?”
“It spreads over nine different nations of South America, but that’s not what you want to know,” he answered and corrected Colonel Fischer in the process. “You want to know about the Druids that call it home.”
“Ah, James must have given you a quick rundown,” another male said from the table.
“No. I knew something was happening down in that region concerning Druids for a few weeks. James just told me that’s what you wanted to talk about,” Quinn corrected him too. He didn’t normally play word games like Vincent or Sawyer could. He didn’t understand much of the nuance of language, but he knew when someone was flat out wrong. That male had been wrong.
“What can you tell us?” the colonel asked, going back to his seat.
“That whatever you are planning will probably lead to a lot of people dying. I would recommend just not getting involved.”
“Is he serious?” a third man cut in, looking at James. “Does he know who he’s talking to?”
“He is serious, and he does know who he’s talking to,” James replied darkly. Quinn knew his handler took him seriously. James would never disregard anything he said. “Quinn?”
“The Druids in the Amazon have always been more aggressive than most. They are wilder than Druids in other areas of the world. It’s probably the isolation and environment,” he explained. “If you think they are out there killing innocent people living in the area, then you must be thinking that you want to go in and put them down. You will only get more people killed. You should just evacuate people living near their borders and make a deal with them that lets them extend further out.”
“How would you know? You’re from Northern Canada,” the colonel asked. Quinn and his wolves could all smell the indignant anger, as if they threatened him personally.
“Druids all over the world talk. I was raised by them. I heard things, learned from them.”
“How do they talk?” Quinn didn’t see who. Female.
“The animals. All of them,” Quinn said nonchalantly. To him, it was normal. Shade and Scout frequently brought him information from any animal willing to share with them. Normally, his wolves just heard the birds and reported that. Birds were full of rumors. “You think only bonded animals have any intelligence? They might grow more intelligent than most, but that doesn’t mean everything else is stupid.”
“You’re kidding,” one scoffed. “Who is this kid?”
“The most powerful Magi in the Americas, excluding the Druids and the Nymphs. Probably the world,” James reminded the stranger. “You wanted him here, you wanted to know what he knows. Expect that he’s only going to tell you the hard truth.”
“Well.” The colonel grabbed a remote and hit a button. Quinn heard something turn on and a projection hit the far white wall. “We’re planning a deep recon mission that has a ‘kill on sight’ objective if a Druid turns aggressive on them. Right now, two villages have gone off the grid with no trade contact. Magi and non-Magi in the area are saying that the Druids have been overtaking their fields and destroying their homes as they push the boundaries of the rainforest back out.” The map on the projection had spots with village names. Red areas where farms had been destroyed. “If my men can’t kill a Druid to stop this, what can?”
“No one,” Quinn answered. He only knew one person who had before. Him. No one would ever know that though unless he told them.
“You have,” a woman called out from her spot. He glanced over to her, shock racing through him. He’d been too confident too soon. “You have once before. It’s why I wanted you here, to listen to this, and join the mission.”
“How do you know that?” Quinn asked, anger flowing through him, a rage he had forgotten he was capable of. Human women. They always seemed to know too much. This black haired, cold-eyed bitch looked like she thought she knew everything.
He instantly hated her.
He held back the want to kill her where she sat. He chained it down. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have. Six months ago, this woman would have died the moment she’d pissed him off. He was only holding back now for…he didn’t know exactly why. He knew he didn’t want to be a monster, a feral, too-powerful beast…was that the reason? Did killing this bitch make him a monster?
