Black and Blue (22 page)

“Uh, do me a solid and ease us back down,” she said even as she tensed, expecting a crash.

He tucked himself back into his pants and frowned. Then they were drifting to the floor, landing.

She pulled on her jeans and opened her mouth to say . . . what?
That can’t happen again?
Or:
Why won’t you just do me already?

Her phone beeped, saving her from having to decide.

Michael’s text. The new mission. “We’re to intercept one of Star’s employees tomorrow morning.”

Blue nodded. Then, without a word, he stalked from the kitchen.

“I’m getting tired of watching you walk away,” she called.

He offered no response.

What did he want from her? What were they to each other?

What would happen next between them?

Despite everything, she almost couldn’t wait to find out.

*  *  *

He wasn’t having sex with Evie until she trusted him enough to talk about Claire. The more he had of her, the more he wanted from her—and the less she offered. She had things backward, and it was time he turned things around.

Judging by the one-sided conversation he’d heard when Evie was on the phone, he suspected Michael knew something was going on.

Blue planned to nut up and tell the man all . . . just as soon as he knew what “all” encompassed. What, exactly, did he want from the girl?

What would she give him?

Right now, not much.

Would disappointing Michael be worth it? Should Blue change his mind about going after her
yet again
and walk away before anything else was added to his “all” tab?

His gaze strayed to Evie, who sat across from him in another unmarked sedan. She distracted him, obsessed him, angered him, frustrated him . . . delighted him. With her, he discovered a rare ecstasy.

He’d once considered her a momentary pleasure. But she wasn’t. She was more than that. So he asked
himself again: Would disappointing Michael be worth it, no matter how little Evie wanted from him?

Yeah.

So no, there would be no changing his mind.

Think carefully.
His game was tomorrow, and the party the day after that. Which meant, in two days he would be turning up the heat on Tiffany Star. The thought left him cold, even disgusted, but he’d never been more determined to break a case.

His stomach twisted in a thousand tiny knots. In private, he could compel Miss Tiffany to do and think whatever he wished. Sex could be taken off the menu. But in public, he would have to play the part of besotted suitor. There was no way around it.

How would Evie react to, say, a kiss? End things with him then and there?

Would oral sex at dinner be nothing more than a fond memory?

He wanted to howl.

He would talk to her before the party and make her understand. And he would talk to Michael when things calmed down. He wasn’t a coward. He would deal with everything thrown his way.

Concentrate
.

He and Evie parked their car at the end of a neighborhood street, waiting for their target. Their windows were tinted. No one could see inside, but they could see everything outside. Blue was anxious to get the ball rolling. Apparently, an employee of Star’s was supposed to deliver a message to a human named Tyrese Cooper, the owner of the house they were watching.

“Why hasn’t Solo revealed himself to you?” Evie asked, probably to fill the silence. He’d noticed she always cracked after a few minutes, as if she couldn’t bear to be alone with her thoughts. “I mean, he knows you’re alive. The entire world does.”

Blue had spent a lot of time mulling over that particular question. “Two possible reasons. He thinks he’ll draw heat to us, or that we’ll draw heat to him.”

“Yeah, okay. That makes sense. I just wish he’d send a text, you know. You deserve a text at the very least.”

She used her hands to punctuate her words.

Just as she’d done the night he’d met her.

He wanted to grin. It was as if she’d lost that part of herself, but now it was back.

But what had brought it back? Blue?

I want to be the reason.

“He has— Car!” Evie said, suddenly eager. “That’s gotta be our guy.”

His gaze landed on the SUV easing into Cooper’s driveway. After parking, an Arcadian emerged. Oh, yeah. That was Star’s man. “Stay here. We don’t know what supernatural abilities he possesses.”

Miracle of miracles, she didn’t offer an argument. He exited into the light and heat of the day. Just in case anyone was waiting in the SUV, Blue wrapped a stream of power around it, ensuring the doors would stay closed. He also wrapped a stream of power around the Arcadian, trying to hold him in place, but the male easily broke free with his own power, whipped around, and searched for the culprit.

Their gazes locked. Lavender against lavender.

At first, the male appeared awestruck. He was seeing football legend Corbin Blue. Then the cogs in his brain started turning, and it was clear he’d realized a football legend would not be here, clearly armed and ready for war.

The male shot across the lawn, down the street. Super-speed. Blue used his own, following, closing in. Around a corner. Over a parked car. Evading several fake trees.

They were going around the block, Blue realized. Heading back to Cooper’s. Guy planned to jump in his car, most likely, and grab a weapon or phone for backup—because there was no way the SUV could move faster than Blue.

Cooper’s house came into view.

Closer . . . Blue released a stream of power to trip the male, but he dodged it.
Have to pick up speed—

A shovel came out of nowhere, smashing into the male’s chest. He ricocheted backward and landed on the street, air gushing from him in one mighty heave.

Evie dropped the shovel and withdrew a pyre-gun, aiming the barrel at the wheezing Arcadian. “All right, boys. Playtime is over.”

Gorgeous, wily woman. Blue had never been so happy to see her. “Where’d you get the shovel, boo-boo?”

Grinning proudly—and ignoring his choice of nicknames for once—she said, “I have all kinds of fun things in the trunk of each of my cars. Pray you never find out firsthand.”

Always prepared. Could she be any sexier?

Blue heaved his prize over his shoulder and stomped over to the SUV. There was no one inside. They closed
in on Cooper’s house and didn’t bother ringing the bell, just burst inside.

A startled human sat in a chair in the living room, a bottle of whisky in hand. He was too drunk to care about the invaders.

“Stay,” Evie told him, marching forward.

He stayed. And waved.

Blue tossed the Arcadian face-first on the dark shag carpet. He slapped a hand over the otherworlder’s mouth, then ran a blade across the backs of his knees, silencing and hobbling him at the same time.

When the muffled screaming stopped, Blue turned him over and straightened, looking over his opponent. Bright lamplight revealed an otherworlder of average size. Meaning he was bigger than a human but far smaller than Blue. Typical Arcadian white hair and lavender eyes. Skin weathered from the harshness of the earth’s sun. Extensively armed. Blue removed each of the weapons.

“I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer or you’re going to suffer,” Blue said, the seriousness of his tone making the guy shudder. “First up: Why were you sent to this house to see Mr. Cooper?”

“Message,” the Arcadian moaned.

Good. There would be no messing around. “Tell me.”

“Can’t.”

Or maybe there would. Blue raised his knife.

“I can’t tell—I have to show you!” the guy said in a rush.

“Then show me. Just don’t make any sudden moves or you’ll lose an appendage.”

Fat tears cascaded down the male’s cheeks as he slowly dug into his pocket and withdrew a small IDC. An identification card.

Blue took it and pressed the button in the center. Inches above it, the air flickered with tiny blue lights, and the Chinese symbol for
revenge
formed. The same symbol had been painted on the box holding John’s ribbons, as well as on the house walls of the seventeen people Star was suspected of abducting.

When Blue had first seen the symbol in the crime scene photos, he assumed it was either a mistake—too many people had gotten inked with symbols for constipation rather than, say, courage—or that it was meant to be deliberately misleading. What could Star have against all those people? People he wasn’t linked to in any other way.

“Why were you supposed to give this to Mr. Cooper?” Evie demanded, picking up where Blue had left off.

“I—I don’t know,” the otherworlder said. “I wasn’t told.”

“Have you ever had to deliver this type of message before?” Blue asked.

“Yes.”

“To whom?”

The male rattled off a list of names, all of the ones on the abduction list and several that were not. Interesting. Blue would have to check into the others and find out if the individuals were missing and just hadn’t been reported, or if something else had happened to them . . . or if nothing nefarious had happened at all.

“Mr. Cooper,” Evie said, her tone gentle now. She crouched in front of the homeowner. “Can you tell us what’s going on? Why Gregory Star would want revenge against you?”

That’s when the human began to sob. Great, heaving sobs, with tears and snot and slobber. He spoke, but his words were incoherent.

They’d get no answers from him anytime soon.

Evie met Blue’s gaze. “Let’s take him to Michael and get you to the stadium for your pregame workout or whatever it is you jocks do. Once Mr. Cooper has sobered up, he can be questioned further.”

Blue nodded, then turned his attention to the Arcadian. “Does Mr. Star have a Rakan hidden somewhere in his home?”

“N-no.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No! I haven’t seen a Rakan, I swear.”

“Have you heard one?”

“No!”

Okay, then. Blue confiscated Evie’s pyre-gun and squeezed the trigger. A bright white light lanced to the man’s chest, burning through his heart in seconds. He was dead before he had time to panic or scream.

Blue had been ID’d as an agent. Maybe Star already knew, and didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t. No reason to take chances, and every reason not to—John could be used against him.

“You get Mr. Cooper to your father,” he said to Evie. “I’ll take care of the Arcadian.”

“What about your practice?”

“I’ll be on time, don’t worry.” Then: “You gonna come to the game tomorrow?” he asked, unable to help himself.

She closed the distance, took her gun, and peered up at him. “You want me to?”

He didn’t need to think about his answer. “Yeah.” He liked the thought of her eyes on him while he kicked ass all over the field.

The look in those dark, dark eyes softened. “Then I’ll be there.”

E
VIE SAT IN THE
owner’s box at Black Stadium. She had invited Tyson Star, to thank him for renting out the roof of the Star Light Hotel to her the following night, but he’d declined. What was it going to take to meet the guy?

Secretive cur!

To place a cherry on top of an E. coli–infested sundae, she hated football. So far, Blue had endured eight major body slams. He had to have a concussion, among ten thousand other injuries. The Strikers were clearly determined to bag and tag him like a mangy animal.

There was one highlight, however. Blue ran the ball in for the first quarter’s only touchdown. She cheered so loud she nearly shattered the armored window in front of her.

And okay, all right, fine. That wasn’t the only highlight. Blue was sexy as hell in his black and gold uniform, and she was beyond turned on.

Like that’s anything new.

It was just, she’d never met a man like him, and doubted she ever would again. He wasn’t just beautiful on the outside, a fallen angel in an otherworlder’s skin.
Or something out of a fairy tale. Like a prince/villain hybrid. He was beautiful on the inside. He treated her with respect, even when she didn’t do the same to him. He protected. He amused.

She wanted him. Naked. In her bed. Not just for hand play, or oral, but straight-up sex. Hard. Fast. Rough. And then, when the first frantic wave of need was finally sated, she wanted him slow and soft.

Why wouldn’t he give it to her?

And
why
did she want it from him and him alone? Why couldn’t she just let him go and pick someone else? Tomorrow he might have to do things with Tiffany, in public . . . and in private.

No. No. Not this time. He hated that part of his job. Hated taking things so far.

That kind of crap stopped now.

She wanted him, and he wanted her. Therefore, she would have him—not Tiffany. He could get answers from the girl another way.

Evie would talk to him. He would either agree, or not. One way or another, she would have a solid answer, and she could decide her next move.

A one-time seduction . . . or more.

Because, at the end of the day, she trusted him. And, wow, what a difference a few weeks had made. They’d gone from hate and disgust to . . . whatever this was.