Wicked Ties

the Elite is."

Well, la-di-da.

"Then if you know what I am, you know damn well that there are ancients still walking this realm. You might think since the Elite have been hunting them they are not a concern. Maybe you just don't want to send your sect into a panic by openly admitting that there are fae they cannot kill with iron. And maybe you don't know about halflings. I honestly don't give a flying fuck why you don't want your group to know, but I am telling you that I was sent here because you have a huge population of fae and ancients that have been heading in this direction."

Ren stepped up, and since he was a good head taller than David, he towered over the sect leader. "But if she's saying that there are two gates and that one of them is not working, you need to tell me where the other gate is, pull your fucking resources, and get that other gate guarded. Now."

The only thing that could be heard was the clicking of the clock on the wall, and then David said, "Everyone but you out of the room."

He meant Ren. I held my ground. "I'm not leaving."

"You're leaving." David glanced back at Val. "So are you. This is between Ren and me."

"That's bullshit! This—"

"This is an order, Ivy!" David thundered. A vein along his temple throbbed. "Or have you forgotten that I'm your boss?"

I sucked in a sharp breath. What could I do? Stand here and get myself suspended or kicked out of the Order? What good would that do? However, standing here and punching David in the face would make me feel oh so good. Calling on every bit of restraint I had, I walked out of the room behind Val, not even looking in Ren's direction, but I did slam the door behind me.

"What a bastard," I fumed, striding past an Order member who was coming down from the third floor. Walking to the window that overlooked the street below, I gripped the windowsill and focused on breathing instead of running back there and smacking someone.

Val stood beside me. She reached up, pushing a wayward curl off her forehead. "What do you think they're talking about in there?"

"I don't know." I glanced over my shoulder, keeping an eye on the members roaming around. "You know what the really bad thing is? We're sure that someone in the Order has been working with the fae. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Her eyes widened. "How does that make sense?"

"It's a long story." I turned around, leaning against the wall, and pushed my hands through my hair. "You know the members that have been killed? We think all of them were guardians," I explained, speaking barely above a whisper. "And remember how they said Trent was tortured?" I licked my lips and dropped my hands. "There's this club in the warehouse district. We've seen the ancients there. I was this close to them. They said they knew the location of the gate, and that they would not fail this time. I also heard them say they had a lead on another person. I think they were talking about an Order member."

"Holy crap," Val said. She stepped to the side, her hands on her hips, several seconds passing. "You know all of that sounds like random ramblings, right?"

"I know. It's just . . . a lot going on. This is a big deal. They open that gate, we are so screwed." I looked at her.

Val cast her gaze to the floor, her brows furrowed. Neither of us spoke for a couple of minutes. "Hey, I've got . . . I have to go." She backed away. "I'll call you later."

She left me. Not that I blamed her at this point because that was a lot to dump on someone, and she didn't even know the half of it. There was a lot of potential what the fuckery for her to sort through.

I paced in front of the window, wanting to know what David was saying to Ren—what Ren was saying to David. Why would he kick me out of the room? And would Ren tell me what was said inside? If not, I was going to punt kick him into next week.

Because my annoyance wasn't already at an all-time high, Miles appeared, having walked down from the third floor. As soon as I saw him, I turned away and pretended to be engrossed in staring out the window.

Of course, that didn't work.

"Have you seen David?" he asked.

I glanced at the closed door. "He's in there with Ren."

"Huh." Miles frowned. "Why?"

Like I was going to answer that question. As I studied Miles from the veil of my lashes, I tried to picture him as a halfling, and I almost laughed out loud.

His frown increased. "What are you doing out here?"

"Waiting on Ren," I answered. "We were paired up together."

"That you were." Miles eyed me closely. "You know, we found Trent's phone near his body. It was damaged, but not destroyed."

I thought about the phone I'd seen him holding last week. "Okay."

His light brown eyes were guarded. "There were pictures of you on his phone—you and Ren. You guys were by Jackson Square, looking mighty close."

At first, I didn't think I heard him right, then I pretty much just gave up on the day right then. "Well, that's kind of creepy."

"True," agreed Miles. "That was the night he was killed. You know why he was taking those pictures? He didn't trust you."

Tiny hairs rose on the back of my neck. "He thought I was crazy, so I'm not surprised."

Miles smiled slightly. It was forced, barely changing his expression whatsoever. "He was worried that you'd become . . . influenced by the fae."

I balled my hands into fists. "Why the hell would he think that? I'd have to be without a clover for that…" I trailed off, my stomach dropping.

"He looked into your past, Ivy. He raised some interesting questions about what happened the night the fae attacked your home," Miles continued. "Pointed out things that just didn't add up."

My stomach kept falling, and I didn't know what to say as I stared at Miles. Horror was like ice slushing through my veins. No. There was no way Trent had found anything out.

The door opened, and I'd never been more grateful to see Ren stalking out, not looking nearly as angry as he had when I left the room.

David stood in the doorway. "Miles. I need to see you. Now."

I turned to Ren, about to stop him, but he gave a quick shake of his head. "Let's head out," he said.

Beyond impatient, I followed him out of headquarters and onto the sidewalk. "What's going on, Ren?"

He reached down between us, wrapping his hand around mine as we started down Phillip, toward Royal. My step stumbled, and he squeezed my hand gently. I looked up at him and he lifted a brow. "Holding hands is something that people do when they like one another."

"I didn't know we were at the stage where we hold hands," I replied, trying to get my bearings as Ren led me around a group of tourists. The panic was still clawing its way through me, dragging me down as my past threatened to meet my present.

It took everything in me but I managed to shove all of that back, locking it up, and forced myself to forget what Miles had alluded to. I had to do that. It was the only way I could focus on the now.

"I'm pretty sure that everything we did yesterday is a good indication that we like one another, Ivy."

I pursed my lips. "I don't think liking one another is necessary for all of that."

"It is for me." He passed me a quick, meaningful look. "You feel me on that, right?"

Oddly flustered by that statement, I quickly looked away. "Why are we even talking about this right now?"

"Because you seemed so shocked by the act of holding hands, it distracted me, and I needed to make sure you and I are on the same page."

"Ren . . ."

Squeezing my hand again, we turned onto Royal. "David wants to take down Flux Saturday. He's talking to Miles, and they're going to round up a group of members they trust. But we're going to have to get past Wednesday night first. He will have the gates guarded, but not just one. Both of them. He doesn't believe that one isn't working, and he's not willing to risk leaving one completely unguarded during the equinox."

I almost got down on my knees and kissed the street out of thanks, but then that would be entirely gross considering the kind of stuff that went down on these streets. "So he believes us?"

"I'm not entirely sure what he believes, but he does know about the Elite. He doesn't know anything about what we do, but since he knows the only way I could know about the Elite is because I'm a part of it, he's willing to listen to me."

"Well, that's just nice," I said snidely.

"Hey, at least he's freaking listening to us. Like us, he knows there's someone in the Order that is working with the fae. That's why he wanted you and Val out of the room. I don't think he suspects you, but . . ."

Cold air hit the back of my neck. "I think . . . I think he does."

"Wouldn't make a damn bit of sense if he did. You were shot by one of them. He can't ignore that."

I wasn't sure. Why else would he make me leave the room? A sick feeling of betrayal twisted up my insides.

"He does know about the ancients, but since they've never been active, he and Miles have kept them quiet. They apparently feared that the fae would be going for the gate, and David was already pulling in extras to cover them, but I don't think they realized until tonight the seriousness of what is happening. I don't even know why he is giving you so much shit about it."

Probably because I have a vagina, and that was just flat out bullshit. This whole thing was bullshit.

"Either way, he wants us at the gates." Tugging me to the side and out of the path of foot traffic, his gaze found mine. "Where did you hear about the other gate not working?"

My stomach roiled even further. This is where I had to lie. I hated it, but I couldn't tell him the truth, and I loathed that I was about to bring my friends into this. "I talked to Merle this morning. She said that the gate in the church no longer worked—that all the gates had been destroyed except the second one." As I spoke, I could feel anti-karma points stacking up. "I figured that if she's been right about everything else, she'd be right about this too."

"All the gates have been destroyed?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I guess that's not something the Elite knows then?"

"No. Never heard that in my life." He dropped my hand, thrusting his fingers through his now dry hair. "How does she know this?"

"I don't know," I said quietly. "But if it's true, then . . . what if the fae know that?"

He shook his head. "I hate to say this, but I don't know, Ivy. That doesn't make sense. Not at all."

How could I convince him without telling him about Tink? There was no way around it. "Did he tell you where the second gate is?"

Ren nodded. "We're standing right in front of it."

I jerked, looking around. "What?" My gaze fell to the gray, three-story building. Understanding sunk in. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Wasn't this one of the houses that TV show used on their horror show?" Ren asked.

I stared up at the famous haunted house on Royal Street, reputedly the most haunted house in New Orleans. A place that harbored a terrible, brutal history. What Merle had said came back to me. The second gate was located in a place where no humans or spirits could rest.

In other words, a haunted house, but ninety percent of New Orleans was rumored to be haunted. "Is this the…?"

Ren shook his head then placed two fingers under my chin, turning my gaze to the brick building beside the grandiose home. "That's where the gate is."





Chapter Eighteen





Monday night was dead. Not a single fae was roaming the streets of the Quarter or hanging out in the club in the warehouse district. Instead of that being a thing of relief, it brought forth a great sense of foreboding. Monday nights weren't hopping by any means, but not a single fae? Something was very wrong with that.

As our shift drew to a close, we ended up back in the Quarter, on Phillip Street, where Ren had stowed his bike. My head was in a thousand different places—the location of the second gate, the possible traitor, what would happen on Wednesday—when Ren asked, "Come home with me."

Standing on the corner of the street, under the faint flickering glow of the streetlamp, I frowned. "What?"

Ren smiled faintly. "Come home with me tonight, Ivy."

I shifted my feet, taking a step back. The request thrilled me . . . and frightened the holy hell out of me. With everything that happened today, I hadn't had much time to think about what Ren and I were doing, even with the panty-dropping hot kiss he unloaded on me at headquarters or the way he held my hand as we walked to the old brick home on Royal Street.

My heart kicked around in my chest as I stared at his shadowed face. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

"It's a great idea. Possibly the best idea I ever had."

Off in the distance, someone howled with laughter. "I don't think—"

"Stop thinking." Ren took my wrist, gently unfolding my arms. "You do that too much."

"I don't think you can possibly think too much," I reasoned as my gaze dipped to where he held my wrist between us. Truth was, I didn't want to go home yet. Since I had no idea what to do with Tink, my apartment above the lovely courtyard was a very lonely place to be.

Ren sighed as he smoothed his thumb along the inside of my wrist. "I'm not going to take you to my place and ravish you, Ivy."

My mind was full of images of him stripping my clothes off, holding me down and doing whatever he wanted to me, and parts of my body got really excited about that prospect.

"Unless you want me to, then I'm all for it," he continued, his tone light. "I'll do whatever you want, just . . . come home with me."

I lifted my gaze to his, and his stare was unflinching, open and honest. The laughter was drawing closer. "If you don't want that from me, why do you want me to come home with you?"

A look of confusion flashed across his face and then he gave me a half grin. "First off, Ivy, I do want that from you. Always. Hell, it's what I've been thinking about since the first time you took a swing at me."

"That's . . . kind of demented."

He ignored that. "But it's not the only thing I want from you. I like hanging out with you. I like spending time with you."

Weirdly, that never really occurred to me, which made me feel kind of stupid, like why wouldn't that have ever crossed my mind? Sometimes I felt like I had the experience of a fifteen year old. To be honest, I liked hanging out with him. These last couple of weeks working with him had made my shifts more enjoyable. Not that I didn't like doing my job, but he made things . . . different.

Looking up at him, I almost said no—almost. "Okay."

The slow grin spread into a full smile that showed off those dimples, and the urge to stretch up and kiss each of them was hard to ignore. The ride home was as uneventful as the evening, but it was strange walking into his apartment at night, as if we were going there to engage in some naughty behavior.

I was nervous as he flipped on the overhead light then headed into the kitchen, grabbing us something to drink. With a beer in one hand and a soda in the other, he swaggered over to the couch, placing both on the coffee table.

As he toed off his boots and socks, he eyed me through his thick lashes. "You know, you can sit on the couch."

I sat on the couch, folding my hands together in my lap.

He shook his head at me. "There's something I actually want to show you—give you. Be right back."

Give me? What could he possibly want to give me? A kiss? I doubted he had to go into his bedroom to get that. And did I want a kiss? I had no problem with those kisses yesterday. God, I didn't know what I wanted.

Or I wasn't ready to acknowledge it.

Either way, Ren returned and sat on the couch beside me, a slender ashy colored wooden stake in his hand. "It's a thorn stake. It'll kill ancients." He placed it in my hand, wrapping my fingers over the smooth, thicker end. His eyes met mine. "I wanted you to have this. I meant to give it to you yesterday, but we kind of got distracted."

Oh, we'd gotten way distracted. "I can't say a guy has ever given me a weapon of stabby awesome before."

That mouth curved up on one side. "Obviously you've never met a