Touch of Promise: The Collectors, #3

By Autumn Reed

The Collectors may have written the rules, but I'm changing the game.

 

After almost losing myself to hatred, it's time to shift my priorities. Fighting the Collectors has resulted in nothing but death and destruction, and the cycle has to stop.

 

With Geppetto and his minions breathing down my neck, my options are limited—join them or run.

 

So I'll do what I have to, but I'll do it on my terms.

 

If only I wasn't facing more questions than answers. I don't know what's going on with my psychic abilities or magic. The events surrounding my mother's death are still in question, and I have no idea how to maneuver my relationships with Stowe, Noah, Jameson, and Mason. 

 

My name is Adele Rose, and I promise things will be different this time.

 

**Touch of Promise is the third book in a slow-burn reverse harem series.**

• Language: English
• Publisher: Autumn Reed
• Release date: Jun 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9798201368135

Autumn Reed

Autumn is a lifelong bookworm with a penchant for sarcasm. She loves cloudy days, fluffy dogs, and murdering succulents. When she isn't bringing daydreams to life on the page, she can be found behind the lens of a digital camera or binge-watching Veronica Mars. To read more about Autumn Reed, visit www.autumnreed.com.

Book preview

Chapter One

Mason

---

Answering a vampire’s summons wasn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my New Year’s Eve.

Well, technically, Grace Morrow wasn’t a vampire. But that woman sucked, and not in the good way.

I instinctively placed a protective hand over my groin, not wanting to even think about what she would do to my man parts, given the chance.

Still shuddering ten minutes later, I parked in front of the Intuition Financial Group offices. Although it was a quarter to three, I spotted four other vehicles in the lot. Not surprising, since the legitimate IFG employees had the day off. Only the Collector portion of the company would bother showing up on a paid holiday.

It still amazed me that Geppetto and his merry band of puppets were able to hide their nefarious dealings in plain sight the way they did. If I didn’t hate them so much, I might have been able to appreciate their business model. They ran a successful investment firm that clearly benefited from the psychics on staff. But they were careful. They lost just enough money to avoid garnering the attention of the federal government.

Forcing myself out of my SUV, I took a wide berth around the side of the building toward the greenspace behind it. I refused to meet with Grace inside. Who knew which psychics lurked within those walls, waiting to read my thoughts or control my actions or sense my powers. Open spaces were always the safest option.

As I approached the fountain where we usually met, I saw Grace emerge from the building. Good. The sooner we started this, the sooner it would be over.

You do realize it’s New Year’s Eve, don’t you? I asked when she stopped a good five or six feet away from me. We didn’t need to be any closer, and I was glad that she seemed to be in agreement.

What? And I’m supposed to believe you have other plans?

Yeah, you are. I gestured vaguely to my body, which was encased in a perfectly-tailored blue suit. Do I look like I have trouble finding a date?

No, you look like you’re too pretty for your own good.

I narrowed my eyes at her. I was not pretty.

But, from everything I’ve seen and heard lately, there’s only one woman you’re interested in. And I seriously doubt you’ve got a date lined up with her.

There was humor in her voice, and I hated it. Grace fucking Morrow didn’t get to be amused with me. She should be relegated to a dimension where demons like her weren’t permitted to speak, much less exhibit amusement.

And what I hated even more was that she was talking about Adele. She didn’t need to be coy about it. I was perfectly aware of the buzz surrounding me and my new employee. I didn’t need to hear the details to guess what everyone was saying.

What’s up with Gatsby?

He doesn’t do employees.

And he doesn’t do girlfriends.

He probably just wants to do the witch...check it off his bucket list.

They thought they had me all figured out. Truth was? They knew nothing about my life. Nothing.

Why am I here? I ground out, not bothering to put on my pleasant mask.

You still haven’t given me an answer about Adele. Geppetto is getting impatient.

Geppetto. If there was one person who deserved to burn in a fiery dimension more than Grace, it was Geppetto. The man was despicable. He hid behind a computer while making his minions dance. It made me sick. Yet, here I was, playing his game with the rest of them.

Instead of saying what I really wanted to, I remained cool. Unconcerned. Adele is jumpy. You can’t blame her for that.

Has she forgotten how I cleaned up her mess at the warehouse?

That was Fleming’s mess, and no, she hasn’t forgotten.

Adele was more than aware that Grace was capable of holding the events at that warehouse over her head. Who knew what kind of evidence might miraculously appear to turn the entire murder-suicide theory on its head? The lot of us had undoubtedly left a slew of it in our wake.

Good. Her nearly-expressionless face twisted into an almost-smirk. Then, she should be more than amenable to my offer.

I bit back a snort. That would be the day. Why don’t you tell me why Geppetto wants her so desperately?

I’d been around for a while, and I’d never seen IFG this interested in a psychic. Manipulation and bribery were normal components of their modus operandi when they couldn’t convince a potential to join for money and security alone.

But when those tactics failed? Less talented psychics found themselves homeless and friendless. The more talented ones found themselves on the lifeless end of a tragic accident.

The fact that Grace had laid down the law that Adele couldn’t be touched?

It meant something.

IFG needed her. But, why?

I’ll tell you what I told Adele the first time I met with her. Geppetto has been searching for psychics who have the ability to access memories for a long time. Beyond that, I don’t know.

Don’t you find it odd that he wants that particular ability so much that he’s willing to negotiate with Adele? That’s not like him.

Her expression returned to its usual blank stare, and I half-wished Noah Greene was here to glimpse her emotions. Was she truly as detached as she appeared? I doubted it. There had to be a beating heart under that icy façade. Even if the blood that ran through it was as black as her soul.

No, I don’t find it odd. Because it’s not my job to have an opinion on what Geppetto does or doesn’t do. He wants her, and we both know that it’s in her best interest to give in.

Oh, so now you care about her best interests?

I just care about bringing her on board, and fast. Make it happen, Montgomery. This is your—her—last warning.

Fine. I’d known this was coming, but I’d been hoping to draw it out a little longer. Adele was not going to be happy. I’ll talk to her.

Do better than talk to her. Convince her.

I wasn’t going to bother responding to that. Convincing Adele to work with the people responsible for her father’s death was about as likely as Grace passing through the Pearly Gates.

Is there a reason we needed to have this meeting in person? She could have easily told me all of that over the phone instead of dragging me all the way to Richmond. It wasn’t like we got together to gab. There had to be something else.

I thought Adele might want that back, Grace said, handing me a bulky envelope.

I peeked inside, finding a bright pink taser that I immediately recognized as Adele’s. She’d had it that night at the warehouse and must have left it there.

You thought Adele might want her taser back. My tone gave away my disbelief, but I went ahead and threw in a really, in case she was feeling dense.

Yes.

Right. That thing was going straight into the trash. Who knew what she’d done to it? At the very least, it was now the proud owner of a top-of-the-line tracking device.

Spotting a black USB drive tucked alongside the taser, I asked, What about the flash drive?

That’s for you. I’ve taken the liberty of going through Andrea Parson’s personal computer files and found some interesting data that she failed to hand over to me.

My neck muscles tensed. This couldn’t be good. What kind of data?

Names and contact information for a number of psychics with abilities that IFG would find useful.

What does that have to do with me?

I don’t have time to deal with them, so you’re going to reach out to the ones with the highest potential and broker their IFG deals.

I laughed. Now, why would I do that? That wasn’t how this worked. She only came to me when she suspected that a psychic wouldn’t be amenable to her offer or was already resisting. I wasn’t a goddamn recruiter.

Because you like receiving your extravagant commissions?

I shrugged. We both know I don’t need the money.

Okay, fine. She crossed her arms over her chest. What do you want?

Finally. This conversation was getting interesting.

Drop this thing with Adele once and for all.

No.

Okay. I plucked the thumb drive from the envelope and held it out. Then, I can’t help you.

She didn’t take it. There has to be something else you want.

There was only one thing in the world I wanted, and Grace couldn’t help me with it. In fact, Adele was the only person I’d found who had even a fighting chance. And that’s why I would continue battling for her, next to her, instead of her. Whatever it took.

Not from you.

She sighed and started walking back toward the building. You’ll think of something, Montgomery. And, when you do, you know where to find me.

I shoved the thumb drive in my pocket and stalked back to my vehicle. I had a bad feeling about this new development. Andrea Parsons no doubt had a good reason for keeping the list of potentials from IFG. She’d done so even knowing that Abel Turner—IFG’s favorite mind reader—could pluck the information from her mind. So, why take the risk?

Even more concerning was Grace’s decision to place this particular task on my shoulders. Since she wasn’t a people person, it made sense to hand the recruitment over to someone else. But she had minions who would have been happy to take this project on. So, why me?

I wasn’t easy to control, and she knew it.

Mr. Gatsby!

I turned to find a young woman jogging toward me, her light blonde hair streaming behind her. Sara, hello.

Unfortunately for her, the nineteen-year-old was IFG’s newest recruit. I’d helped broker her deal. And as many times as I’d wanted to yell at her to run far away, that wasn’t part of my job description. I’d negotiated the best deal I could for her, but I didn’t get involved otherwise. That was how it had to be.

She stopped a few feet in front of me, her cheeks flushed. Mr. Gatsby, I just wanted to thank you for the condo. It’s so much nicer than anything I could have imagined.

I wanted to tell her to use my name. This Mr. Gatsby stuff was ridiculous. First of all, I didn’t particularly appreciate being compared to the fictional character. I liked to believe I was made of stronger stuff than him. And I wasn’t even a decade older than Sara, so the mister really needed to go.

It wasn’t me. IFG purchased it for you.

Oh, I know that. But if you hadn’t helped me, I never would have gotten so much money from Ms. Morrow.

I nodded, hoping that was good enough. I didn’t deserve her gratitude. Not really. Opening the door to my SUV, I muttered, Happy New Year.

Thank you. You too.

Despite the upbeat tone to her words, I detected something else underneath them. I told myself to turn away, that it wasn’t my problem. But, apparently, I was going soft all of a sudden, because I turned back to her.

Is everything going okay?

Sara’s eyes widened, and for the first time, I noticed that the skin around her eyes looked puffy. Not typical for a girl her age. Of course.

Are you sure? They’re treating you well?

Yeah. She glanced nervously around the empty parking lot. I mean, it’s not that bad.

Convincing, I said with a chuckle, hoping to help her relax.

She nibbled on her bottom lip. I shouldn’t say this, but I’m glad Mr. Fleming is gone. He was mean.

Jared Fleming? Sara had only worked for IFG for a week before Grace shot and killed him at the warehouse. With her own gun, I assumed, since I’d taken his with me and later thrown it in the river. So, how had Sara already come into contact with a man who notoriously worked alone?

Did he do something to you? It was the vaguest question I could think of to try and get her to open up.

He made me go with him to block this girl’s powers, and then he took her.

Sara’s ability was fairly limited, but it was one that IFG held in high regard. She could suppress the powers of almost any psychic when she was within about a block radius. It was impressive. And she was probably wishing it didn’t exist about now. I knew how that felt—I’d been there.

Her eyes filled with tears. I don’t know what happened to her, or if she’s okay.

I was pretty sure I did.

What did the girl look like?

A little older than me. Pretty, with dark brown hair and some other colors mixed in.

Jemimah Drake. Just as I thought. Don’t worry. I know her, and she’s fine.

Sara held a hand to her mouth. Really? She’s okay?

Yes. I promise.

She smiled, now looking younger than her nineteen years. I’m so relieved to hear it, you have no idea.

Happy to be of service.

Just as it was on the tip of my tongue to say something crazy like, call me if you need anything, I climbed into the front seat with a quick bye instead.

I couldn’t start caring about the psychics I dealt with on a daily basis. That wasn’t what I was about. I needed to stay focused on my mission. And, right now, the entirety of my mission revolved around Adele Rose.

Did it hurt that she called to me with her soulful gray eyes and unique blend of softness and strength?

No, it didn’t hurt one damn bit.

Chapter Two

Adele

---

Daphne.

At the low whisper, I paused en route to the refrigerator and glanced around. Stowe?

A large hand appeared from the pantry, and before I could react, I was being dragged into the small room.

What are you doing? I asked around a laugh as he shut the door, closing us in.

Stowe towered over me, his massive body taking up almost all of the available space. Stealing a minute alone with you while George and Jameson are distracted.

Isn’t that what bedrooms are for?

Yeah, if you hadn’t made bedrooms off-limits.

Oh, right. Why had I done that again?

I craned my neck to peer up into his mischief-filled face, his beard detracting only slightly from his boyish expression. Now that we’re alone, what do you plan on doing with me?

Like you don’t know.

The gold flecks in his eyes flashed as he pulled me against his chest, his hands pressing into my back. As always, I had to stand on tiptoes to loop my arms around his shoulders. Stowe was so tall, so big, but I wasn’t complaining. He made me feel dainty, protected. And how could I not like that?

Stowe lowered his head, meeting me in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. He had this way of taking his time that drove me wild. He nipped at my top then bottom lip, sampling. Tasting. I dug my nails into his neck, silently imploring him to stop toying with me.

With minimal effort, he lifted me, backing me up against the door. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he planted his hands on the backs of my thighs, massaging them gently. He slipped his tongue between my lips, urging them open, and I eagerly complied. His taste was just as sweet—and hot—as he was. Like iced tea in the middle of summer...with a shot of bourbon thrown in.

The kiss went on and on, my body slowly melting from the inside out. When all of the air had been sucked from my lungs, I leaned my head back against the door, trying to catch my breath. Now, I remembered why I’d made bedrooms off-limits. I didn’t trust myself to be alone with Stowe while a bed was nearby.

Ever since he’d almost been shot at that cursed warehouse, my defenses had melted away like heavy makeup on a summer day. He was strength personified, but that didn’t matter. I wanted to hold him close, to keep him safe. I needed him to understand how much I cared about him, despite my inability to vocalize my feelings.

Nothing concrete had changed since that day Stowe told me he loved me by the side of the road. If anything, I was more conflicted than ever. Noah was his usual sweet and perfect self. Mason and I continued to get our flirt on at every opportunity. And Jameson...well, he was officially a contender.

We hadn’t talked about what happened in my bedroom over two weeks ago, but we didn’t need to for me to sense the shift between us. He no longer snapped or scowled at me. And, in a shocking twist, he and George had become fast friends. It seemed that George had finally found his match in several of his favorite board games, including Scrabble. Yes, Jameson was good with words. Who knew?

I would have liked to say that I was juggling four men, but what I was doing didn’t even qualify as juggling. It was more like a game of dodgeball, where I spent all of my time ducking and weaving rather than actually playing. And...it was possible that I’d been using George as a very well-timed shield.

The Psych Squad and I had all agreed that, if he was going to remain in Virginia, George needed to stay at the estate. Though he’d resisted, I had a feeling all of his arguments were for show. He obviously loved all the attention he’d been receiving over the past week. And I’d been happy to let Stowe, Jameson, and Jem believe that his presence was the reason I’d been keeping my—relative—distance. I didn’t bother thinking that Noah failed to see past my ruse. But he hadn’t said anything, so neither had I.

I probably should have scolded Stowe for ambushing me now, but he’d left me weak in the knees and out of breath. Someone is bound to start looking for us soon.

So? You afraid of being caught with me in the pantry? he asked, challenge in his voice.

No, I answered honestly. It’s just— My phone started playing the theme song from the Harry Potter movies, and I instinctively reached for it. Giving Stowe an apologetic look, I said, It’s Ruby. Do you mind?

No. He kissed me on the forehead before lowering me to the ground. Get on out of here.

Thanks. I pushed open the door, popping open my flip phone to say, Hello?

Jameson was leaning against the kitchen island, his arms crossed over his expansive chest and an entertained smile playing at his plump lips as Stowe followed me out of the pantry. Perfect.

I opened the sliding door to the back patio and cleared my throat. Ruby? Are you there?

You sound flustered, my dear. Please tell me that big handsome brute of yours is responsible.

I couldn’t help but laugh. You’re not far off the mark.

Well, don’t let me keep you, then. Nothing new to report.

I dropped onto a lounge chair and sighed. Nothing?

After I’d magically escaped my restraints and made Jared Fleming turn his own gun on himself, I’d reached out to my great aunt, expecting an explanation. But, unfortunately, she was as clueless as me. She’d been researching the issue ever since, calling me with daily updates, at my insistence.

Not that there had been anything to update. She’d been searching through the coven’s texts but hadn’t stumbled across anything that could explain what happened. The best she’d come up with was that the event had been some kind of magic anomaly, which I didn’t find comforting in the least.

I took off my left glove to study the small, pink scar on my palm. I couldn’t pretend that what I’d done didn’t scare me. I’d been seconds away from forcing a man to take his life. And, yeah, that man had been responsible for murdering my dad and who knew how many other people. But that wasn’t the point. I wasn’t that person. At least, I didn’t want to be.

I’m starting in on the coven journals, Ruby replied, but it’s going to take time. There are boxes full of them.

Okay. I attempted to tamp down the impatience that was undoubtedly seeping through my voice. I knew I shouldn’t get irritated with Ruby. She was doing her best. It just drove me crazy that I didn’t know how I’d willed things to happen that should have been impossible. Or why the tiger’s eye had left this scar on my hand. It made me leery to attempt any magic. Even the easy stuff, like spelling crystals.

You should take the day off from worrying about it. It’s New Year’s Eve. Tell me you’re doing something fun.

I haven’t really planned anything.

Honestly, the holiday wasn’t even on my radar. Now that I thought about it, I was surprised Jem hadn’t come up with some elaborate outing for the evening. Then again, she hadn’t been herself since Andrea’s death. Though she’d rallied on Christmas, her mood had waffled between depressed, angry, and irritable in the days since.

You’re only young once, Ruby reminded me. Not for the first time. Enjoy yourself. Have fun!

Fun… I couldn’t go so far as to claim it was a foreign word, but it sometimes felt like one. There was always so much on my mind that I focused on getting through each day without drowning in stress.

Yes, fun. You know, that thing that makes people smile and laugh and even let their hair down. Promise me you’ll do that tonight.

I hesitated, not wanting to make a promise I wouldn’t keep. I was more than happy to leave my hair in its ponytail.

And I mean that figuratively and literally, she continued. I’m sure you look lovely with your hair framing your face.

I rolled my eyes but reached for