Risky Goods: Arcane Transporter 2

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © February 2021 by Jami Gray

  All rights reserved.

  Risky Goods - Arcane Transporter

  Celtic Moon Press

  ISBN: 978-1-948884-42-6 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-4-948884-44-0 (print)

  Cover Art: Deranged Doctor Design

  www.derangeddoctordesign.com

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Arcane Transporter Books

  Also by Jami Gray

  About the Author

  If you’re in control, you’re not going fast enough.

  - Parnelli Jones

  Acknowledgments

  2020 was a wild year and I wouldn’t have survived it without my dedicated pit crew.

  Wizards of all things Jami - Ben, Ian, and Bren

  Ever dependable GPS - DeAnna, Camille, Dave, Diane, Joanna, Monica and Nana.

  Glorious interior and exterior artwork - Kim and Tanja at Deranged Doctors, and Sarah and Lynn at Red Adept Editing.

  For an always exciting race - you, my awesome readers!

  Thanks for sticking with me through the sharp turns and bumpy roads, and a couple of wrong turns. At least we can all throw our hands up and enjoy the ride when we hit the straightaways!

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  Chapter One

  “If you’ll follow me, Ms. Rossi.” The concierge sketched a brief bow before leading my client, Sabella Rossi, under the arched hallways and across the tile floors to the reserved conference room. I tagged along, unsurprised by his deference. After serving as Sabella’s driver and part-time bodyguard for the last couple of weeks, I’d grown familiar with the hushed reverence she generated. It went hand in hand with her being the Giordano matriarch and current head of the oldest Arcane Family. She fit our surroundings at this luxury hotel, her timeless beauty and grace underscoring the old-world elegance and architecture. Even I had to admit the woman and the scenery were worth a second, and probably even a third, look.

  The concierge stopped by a double set of wooden doors inlayed with wrought iron. He pulled open the one on the left and inclined his head as Sabella swept past. He waited until I cleared the threshold before letting go of the heavy door. It shut on a near-silent rush of cool, scented air with a barely discernible click. On the heels of that soft noise, my skin prickled in visceral warning of activated magic. Thanks to my recent study of magical signatures, I recognized it as a warding spell, probably meant to ensure that what happened in this room stayed in this room.

  And what a room it was. Tall, arched windows peered into a meticulously kept inner courtyard and let in the bright summer light. Strategically placed potted greenery added color to the swath of cream-colored walls and marble floors. Intimate seating areas were scattered along the room’s edges, the plush chairs angled around low side tables. An unlit stone fireplace dominated the room’s far end, and a table of burnished wood sat directly under a wrought-iron chandelier with faux candles suspended from the intersecting gothic arches.

  As we crossed the floor, an imposing man near the table’s head rose from his high-backed chair and met us halfway. A welcoming smile broke through the austere lines of his face and warmed the depths of his sharp gaze. “Sabella, thank you for coming.”

  Sabella reached the head of the Cordova Family. “I could hardly refuse such an interesting request, Emilio.” She exchanged cheek brushes with him.

  My heart dropped with an unsettling mix of dread and anticipation when I heard the man’s name. Please, please, don’t be here. I sent my frantic wish toward whoever might be listening and did my best to check out the rest of the room without being obvious about it. As Emilio guided Sabella back toward the table, I swore I could hear the sound of that divine being up there laughing their ass off at my expense. My gaze stalled on the dark-haired, infuriating man standing off to the side, half-hidden by a wooden screen that subtly obscured a table covered in refreshments. His gaze met mine, and the polite mask he wore didn’t falter, as if the kiss we’d shared three weeks and two days earlier had never happened. Not that I was counting.

  A heartbeat passed, then two as I stubbornly held Zev Aslanov’s stare. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Zev was the Arbiter of the Cordova Family, and that title generally sent most people scurrying for cover. I, of course, was not most people. Nope, I was pissed. So even as my pulse skittered and my temper went from a simmer to a burn, I tucked my messy drama behind a coolly dismissive blink.

  His lips curled the tiniest bit, and despite the distance between us, I caught a smug glint in his eyes. With undeniable audacity, he silently acknowledged me by raising his coffee cup in a mocking salute, while the man and woman next to him watched.

  Arrogant, sexy jackass. Fine. If he wants to play, let’s play.

  Returning Zev’s smirk with one of my own, I added a head tilt and shifted my focus to the pair standing with him. The light-haired man to Zev’s left appeared to be in his early thirties, and based on his grin, he was highly amused by our exchange. In contrast, the icy sophisticated brunette to Zev’s right wore a slightly puzzled, if irritated, frown.

  Sabella’s soft laugh drifted through the room and reminded me of why I was there, and it wasn’t to entertain Zev. Mind on the job, Rory. The reminder didn’t ease the sting of my wounded feminine pride, but it set my mind back to the task at hand. Deliberately, I turned my attention to Sabella. She and Emilio were chatting in low voices as they moved toward the table. I followed in their wake, keeping a careful distance to give them privacy.

  Sabella caught sight of Zev and lifted a hand in greeting. As Emilio pulled out her chair, she turned to me and, with a small, frustratingly knowing smile, waved me off toward a nearby chair. Behind her, Emilio—the man Zev answered to and one of Arcane society’s notables—looked from me to Zev, his speculation clear, before he ensured that Sabella was situated and then reclaimed his seat.

  Stifling a sigh, I went and sat in the nearby armchair as Sabella greeted the table’s other occupants. Then I settled back to watch the drama play out. This wasn’t my typical scene, but as an independent contractor intent on carving out a sterling reputation as a highly qualified Transporter to the magical elite, I was quickly becoming familiar with it. Package delivery and protection became nuanced when you were your own boss.

  For instance, that day, my package was Sabella. She’d been asked to mediate a Family discussion, one of the “tedious responsibilities”�
��in her words—that came with her particular position in the Arcane world. Her requested presence was a proactive move by the involved parties to guarantee no one came away bloodied or dead, especially since Arcane Families tended to fight down and dirty. Normally, such responsibility would belong to an Arbiter— as they were the Families’ answer to judge, jury, and executioner, not that the last role was ever admitted out loud. However, Sabella indicated that this particular Family dispute required a neutral party.

  According to my contract, I was to make sure she remained unscathed regardless of the resolution. In plain English, I was there to haul her ass out if things got ugly—a highly probable outcome considering that this was a Family issue. I had no idea why Sabella felt I was up to the task, but considering what she was paying me, and the fact that I liked her, I was willing to give it my best shot. Later, when I wasn’t worried about bloodshed, I’d overanalyze her reasons for including me.

  There was an underlying tension in the room that left me twitchy, but I did my best to appear unassuming and attentive. I scanned the other two faces already seated at the table. While I recognized Stephen Trask, head of the Trask Family and CEO of a teetering biotech research company known as Origin, the other person remained a mystery. Still, the presence of Stephen, Emilio, and Zev did not bode well. Or perhaps that was simply residual paranoia on my part, considering how Zev and I first met.

  Difficult though it was, I resisted the urge to check on what Zev was doing. Not that I had to wonder for long. The hair on my arms rose as a coffee cup appeared in front of me, held aloft in a familiar hand. “Here.”

  Ingrained manners overrode my need to ignore him. I met his chocolate-dark gaze and took the cup with a polite “Thank you.”

  Our fingers brushed, and the momentary touch sent a tremor skimming along my skin. I hid my reaction by aiming my attention at those gathered at the table. Undaunted by my clear dismissal, Zev took the chair next to me. A long moment passed, both of us studiously watching the table’s occupants exchange small talk.

  I was taking a sip of coffee when he spoke without looking at me. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  Miraculously, I managed not to choke on my drink. Instead of calling bullshit, I made a noncommittal sound and kept my eyes riveted on the table, not on the six-foot-two slice of sexy darkness looming at my side. It was harder than it sounded. He shifted, angling toward me in such a way that it would be not only telling but rude, too, if I chose to ignore him. Intent on maintaining my dignity and acting like a mature adult, I turned and looked at him.

  It was a mistake. He was studying me with a small frown and a disconcerting intensity. His angled jaw was covered in perpetual scruff that merged into the neat Vandyke that surrounded his full lips and sinful mouth. His shoulder-length black hair was tied back at the nape and did nothing to downplay his rakish air. It wouldn’t have surprised me to learn it was a deliberate move on his part, a silent dare to every woman to unleash the wildness ruthlessly held in check. He fascinated me more than was healthy, and that same fascination was what had initially gotten me in trouble in the first damn place.

  Three weeks, two days. The reminder was a weak leash, but it worked.

  “You’re pissed.” His voice was low, keeping the conversation between us.

  “No, I’m not.” It was a blatant lie. We both knew it, but instead of calling me out, he continued to hold my gaze with unflinching patience, waiting for the truth. Because I hated games, it didn’t take me long to relent. “Fine, I’m pissed. I don’t like being played, Zev.”

  His wince was so small I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching closely. He shifted, his hand rising as if to reach toward me, but instead, he curled it into a fist and dropped it to the chair’s arm. “That was not my intention.”

  Strangely, I believed him. Zev was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Rory, I —”

  Before he could finish, someone rapped the table with their knuckles, cutting off our conversation and regaining everyone’s attention.

  “Shall we get started?” Emilio sat to Sabella’s left. His question was clearly a formality, because he was quick to follow it with, “Thank you for coming today.”

  As the murmurs faded, the couple who had been talking with Zev earlier at the refreshment table claimed a pair of chairs behind Stephen, which put them across from Zev and me. The brunette waited to catch Zev’s eye, then she launched a sultry smile. My green-eyed monster woke with a lazy blink, but Zev’s reaction was not what I expected. He stiffened, dipped his chin in acknowledgement, and then shifted the tiniest bit until he was angled toward me.

  What was that?

  At his unmistakably dismissive move, the brunette narrowed her startling light eyes and stared at me with an uncomfortable intensity. With no idea of what the hell was going on, I gave her a polite smile then turned back to watch the table at large and sipped my coffee.

  With everyone seated, Emilio spoke. “Before we begin, does anyone object to Sabella reinforcing our privacy ward?” When nothing was said, Emilio turned to Sabella. “If you wouldn’t mind…?”

  “Of course.” She traced a sigil on the table.

  Magic rolled over my skin like a scouring pad as she bolstered the ward. I fought back a shiver at the irritating sensation. Clearly, no one would be leaving this room until Sabella allowed it, so I decided to slow my caffeine intake.

  “Thank you.” Emilio turned back to the table. “For the purpose of this meeting, it is important to note that all parties involved have agreed to abide by Sabella’s decision pending the outcome of this conversation. All details discussed will remain confidential. Stephen, Leander, do you have any objections before we move forward?” Both men at the table shook their heads. “Good.” Emilio sat back. “Sabella, the floor is yours.”

  Sabella sat in her chair like a queen on a throne, one hand on the folder in front of her. “It is my understanding that all three involved families—Cordova, Trask, and Clarke—wish to uncover those responsible for the recent deaths surrounding the Delphi project.”

  What the hell is the Delphi project?

  Both Stephen and the burly blond, who I assumed was Leander Clarke, nodded while Emilio simply watched. Sabella turned to Stephen. “To be clear, the Delphi project was central to your biotech research at Origin and was led by Lara Kaspar, correct?”

  “Yes.” Arrogance rode Stephen’s voice, and his face was set in hard, disgruntled lines. His gaze flickered to Emilio and back to Sabella. “She was not only our head researcher but the driving force behind the initial phases of the project as well. I now believe her death should be considered part of this discussion.”

  Emilio’s hand curled into a fist before he relaxed it. I didn’t find his reaction a surprise considering Lara Kaspar was his ex-sister-in-law. Well, dead ex-sister-in-law. The distinction was important, as an ex wouldn’t command the same response as a dead ex.

  “Noted.” Although Sabella’s expression remained unchanged, her voice carried a sharp edge. “Now, allegations about who is behind these deaths have been bandied about—hence, my involvement. For the purposes of this meeting, we will focus on known facts, not rumors.”

  She opened a folder similar to the one she’d handed me when I arrived on her doorstep to escort her to this meeting—a folder I hadn’t had a chance to go through. I made a mental note to remedy that as soon as possible. Sabella began flipping through the pages then looked at Stephen. “Let’s start at the beginning. Origin employed Dr. Kaspar, a high-level Fusor mage, to assist with a project that involved neurotechnology, correct?”

  “Yes,” Stephen said.

  “When did you first realize Dr. Kaspar was selling research results to LanTech?”

  Leander stiffened in his chair but remained quiet. Temper moved over Stephen’s face like an incoming storm, and his voice was clipped. “Close to seven months ago.”

  Sabella went back to studying the p
apers in front of her and, without looking up, asked, “And what steps did you take to rectify the situation?”

  A muscle in Stephen’s jaw jumped, and he glared at Leander. It was obvious Stephen had a truckload of resentment to unload. “We immediately revoked Dr. Kaspar’s security clearance and confiscated her research.”

  When Stephen didn’t say anything else, Sabella’s hand flattened on the papers in front of her. She lifted her head and pinned the belligerent Stephen in place with a shrewd look. “Is that all?”

  Red rode Stephen’s face. “Once we had verifiable proof of Dr. Kaspar’s NDA violation, we requested a meeting with LanTech’s legal team to discuss the ramifications to the Delphi project.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder just what those ramifications entailed, considering the fact that Stephen’s company, Origin, specialized in biotech research, and Leander’s rival company, LanTech, worked with magic-infused technology. What could the two companies be working on that’s big enough for both men to risk not only their professional reputations but their families’ honor as well? My imagination spun up enough conjecture to give anyone—mundane or Arcane—nightmares.

  “I want to reiterate what was stated at that meeting,” said Leander. “Yes, LanTech had a similar project in process. No, it had not reached the advanced stage that Origin claimed to have achieved. Dr. Kaspar came to us, offering information. We were unaware that her information was illegally obtained. She assured us it was her intellectual property. As our lawyers pointed out, we cannot be held accountable for her indiscriminate actions.”