Black and Blue

Eleven

BLUE RESTED FOR A few hours but got up early to shower and clean the dye out of his hair. He threw away the contacts and removed all of the piercings, happy to be Bad Boy Chic again. He still had a line of scar tissue, but it would be gone in another day or two.

If Evie asked, he’d give himself a new one.

He dressed in a black T-shirt and slacks. Spares of Michael’s. Blue hadn’t expected to stay the night, so he hadn’t brought any extras. He headed to the kitchen.

Evie had beaten him there.

She leaned against the counter, sipping at a steaming mug of coffee. The sight of her arrested him. She had such long lashes. And were those faint little smudges on her nose freckles?

How had he never noticed them before?

She puckered her lips to blow on the coffee, both top and bottom red and deliciously swollen, as if she’d nibbled on them all through the night.

She, too, had found the necessary supplies to return her hair to its normal dark luster, the wavy locks flowing freely. She’d ditched the silicone bra, her breasts once again a perfect teacup shape.

Creeper! Stop eyeing her like you want to eat her.

Mmm . . . I want to eat her.

Cursing, he bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He hated challenges, he decided. Because he wanted Evie, desperately, and her parentage was one challenge he could never overcome.

If she were anyone other than Michael’s daughter, Blue would carry her to bed. Here. Now. But she was his daughter, so he couldn’t.

Gotta have sex soon. His body couldn’t take much more frustration without causing a worldwide power surge.

And yet, the thought of being with anyone else left him . . . hollow.

No one else would taste as good. Or feel as soft and warm. No one else would give back as good as she got and take whatever she wanted. No one else would satisfy him.

“Michael’s still sleeping,” she said, breaking the silence.

Perfect. No way Blue would be able to hide the raging party in his pants.

“I checked him over. His vitals are stable.”

“He’ll be in prime shape before you know it.” He confiscated the mug from her and drank before she could protest. “Listen, I’m going to arm up and head out. I want to case Star’s house before I go in.”

“Before you go in? I think you mean we.”

Hardly. But he had to tread carefully here. With Evie, he couldn’t use old faithful: It’s too dangerous, sugar dumpling, so let the big, bad man go and save the day. She would empty out his liver and fill it with rocks.

“Honestly, buttercup?” he said. “No matter how skilled you are, you’ll just get in my way. To get in and out undetected, I’ll have to move at a speed you won’t ever be able to match.”

Her lips thinned as she peered over at him. He held her stare without flinching—and, somehow, without grinning. He should be frightened rather than amused. If anyone could kill him and bury the evidence, it was this woman. But then, he was only just beginning to realize how much he liked the strong, fierce firecracker and her diabolical mind.

“I need you here,” he added, “at the computer, watching my back.” Literally. He would have a night-vision camera attached to the back collar of his shirt, streaming live feed. “It’s a job John and Solo have done many times in the past, not something meant to keep the little woman home safe. I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re lying.”

“We don’t lie to each other, baby doll. Remember?”

The fight drained out of her, and she nodded. “All right. But you better come back free of injuries, or I will slice off your favorite body part, name it something filthy and wrong, and sell it to the highest bidder.”

Again he wanted to grin. With those words, he realized Evie Black didn’t just desire him with the same fervency he desired her—she also liked him as much as he liked her. Something he’d noticed: she only threatened people she cared about.

I’m in trouble with this one, aren’t I?

As the sun set on the horizon, shadows began to thicken. Blue was able to place ten small cameras on the perimeter of Star’s country home, a huge compound surrounded by an iron gate, armed guards, and a forest of fake green trees.

“Done with the outside,” he whispered. He was roughly thirty yards from the mansion, hidden by a massive trunk. Not to mention the fact that his clothing had tiny microchips woven throughout, causing the fabric to blend with his surroundings every time he moved.

“I’ve disabled the laser sensors,” Evie said through the piece in his ear. “Avoid the middle of the gate and you should be fine.”

“ ‘Should’?”

“Let’s find out together.”

Funny. “I’m about to go in.”

“Your six is clear.”

“All right. I’m moving in.” For protection, he had a pyre-gun, an image cloak, and a few daggers. For surveillance, he had a single sheet of microbugs—twenty-five peel-and-stick tabs to place throughout the home. “Unless you see something, I need you to be quiet from now on.” Her sexy voice was a distraction he couldn’t afford.

“Roger that.”

Deep breath in . . . hold . . . hold . . . As he released it, he surged forward, out from the shade and into the waning sunlight, moving at such a swift pace the guards would only register the slightest blur. He climbed the gate. As he placed a bug on the north, east, south, and west walls, he searched for the best entrance into the home. No one shot at him. No one cried out a warning.

“See something. Three giggling women in lingerie just snaked a corner behind you,” Evie said, her voice a caress in his ears. “Please tell me you didn’t accidentally stumble into a harem . . . oops. Shutting up now.”

Can’t laugh. A guard exited a side door. There. He slipped inside, unnoticed, as the metal began to close, and found himself in . . . a break room. Eight men. All armed. Some playing cards, some watching monitors that displayed the house grounds. He couldn’t slow; he would give himself away. He had to keep going, even though he didn’t know the layout.

When he reached a hallway with only one guard, he seized the opportunity. Finally slowing . . . stopping, Blue placed a hand over the male’s nose and mouth, and pinched his carotid, cutting off both of his airways. It wasn’t long before the guy sagged in his arms, a deadweight. He dragged the guy into a nearby storage closet.

“While we’ve got a moment, let’s revisit the lingerie,” he whispered to Evie. “You ever wear any?” Working as swiftly as possible, he switched off the chips in his clothing and held the image cloak—a small black band with a camera in the center—at the top of the guard’s head and scanned all the way to his feet.

“Actually, I prefer to go commando,” she admitted.

He moaned. How was he supposed to keep his hands off her now?

Michael, that’s how.

But Michael would understand if he caved. Surely.

As soon as the guard’s identity registered, Blue snapped the band around his own neck, and the guard’s hologram was cast, front and back, shielding his identity. “Here goes. Radio silence again.”

Blue stepped into the hall and walked as if he were simply out on patrol. He reached around every door and, without pausing, placed a bug in . . . a sitting room . . . a bedroom . . . another bedroom . . . He marched downstairs, took a corner. People buzzed around in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal. He anchored another bug.

In a perfect world, he would find John locked in a room. Or down here, in a cell. And Solo would burst through the entrance to help him. Together, they would free John.

In a less-than-perfect world, Blue would find something to point him to their locations.

In a crappy shithole of a world, he would find nothing.

He was in a crappy shithole.

He’d been so hopeful. Frustration poked at his power, and that power expanded inside him until his skin felt taut, ready to rip apart at the seams.

Keep it together. One last room to bug. The most important.

Blue searched until he found Star’s office. The doors were closed and locked, and he would bet Star was inside, working. He could sneak inside and try to use voice compulsion, forcing Star to lead him out to safety and then to tell him everything he wanted to know. But there were two flaws in that plan. One, guards would come gunning for him and he couldn’t hold them all off at once without emptying himself. And if he emptied himself, he couldn’t carry Star away—or save John and Solo, if they were nearby. Two, half the population was immune to the compulsion. Star could be one of the immune.

“You’ve got two males coming in hot,” Evie announced.

Great.

“Marco,” a deep voice said.

Blue placed the last bug on the office door. No way could he get in without blowing his cover. He turned. As promised, two males were barreling toward him, both frowning.

“Marco. What are you doing down here?”

“I think you’re Marco,” Evie prompted.

Yeah. Probably. But Blue couldn’t say a single word to the guys—he wouldn’t have Marco’s voice. That meant he had to go with plan B.

He released a small ring of power. Not enough to render Blue completely useless afterward, but enough to weaken him as he disabled the guards. The two grunted and jerked before slumping to the floor.

He considered the consequences worth the reward.

“Nice,” Evie said, “but you better get out of there before they’re found and an alarm is tripped.”

Blue kicked into high gear—which wasn’t as high as it had been before—propelling outside. He raced across the lawn . . . no alarm . . . he climbed the iron gate . . . no alarm . . .

He jumped into his waiting car and sped down the street, constantly glancing at the rearview mirror to see if he was being followed.

“How long before you’re back at the boathouse?” Evie asked.

He thought he heard the words she didn’t say: How long before you’re safe?

“Missing me already, princess? How sweet.”

“Blue! I’m being serious.”

How adorable was the pout in her voice?

Dude. You’ve got it bad.

And it was only getting worse.

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended.

“Morning? Tell me you’re kidding.” The pout was replaced by a growl. “I have no intention of taking the evening off. I need to pay a visit to AIR headquarters to discuss the car chase and pump Agent Gutierrez for information.”

The words pump Agent Gutierrez hit him the wrong way, and he gripped the steering wheel with so much force he cracked the metal. “Does Michael have another boat?”

“Yeah, but if I take it, I’ll leave him stranded.”

“I seriously doubt that. He’s a plan B, C, and D man. Take the boat.”

She sighed. “You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“Ha, ha.”

“So listen. Tonight I have to rise from the dead. I’ll sneak over to your house as soon as it’s done.”

A sharp intake of breath. “So . . . you’re ending things with Pagan?”

“Yes. It’ll be done by midnight.”

Utter silence.

Man, he wished he could read Evie better, but when she wanted to be, she was a master at disguising her reactions. And without her nearby, he couldn’t sense her emotions.

Funny, but the empathic ability he’d once despised was now one of his most beloved and well used.

“Just so you know,” he added, “I’m not going to sleep with her.” He didn’t owe Evie the assurance; they weren’t dating and had made no promises to each other—and, damn it all, they couldn’t be together.

None of that stopped him, however.

“I didn’t ask, did I?” There was no emotion in her tone. “Besides, sleeping with her before and/or after you’ve broken her heart would be a total douche move.”

His jaw clenched. “Look, until you, I always told her before I was going to do something with someone else. Not why, just that it was going to happen. She never minded, and that’s part of the reason I stayed with her. If it weren’t for the job, I would have been faithful. I want to be faithful.”

Again silence.

He wanted her to see him, the real him, he realized. And he wanted her to tell him she thought better of him. Even though he sometimes didn’t think better of himself.

“Do you know what it’s like to seduce someone you’re not attracted to?” he gritted. “Or worse, someone you despise? Do you know what it’s like to hear their cries of pleasure and wish you were hearing cries of pain? Do you know how dirty something like that can make a person feel? Do you?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Do you know what it’s like to have sex with someone you know you’re going to have to kill? Or to know just how badly your actions are going to hurt someone you care about?”

“Blue—”

“Would you mind if I did sleep with her?” he snapped. He didn’t want her to see him now. Some part of him just wanted blood.

Another sharp intake of breath. Then, very softly, she said, “Yes. I would mind. Just . . . try to end it by eleven, yeah. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Waiting for you.

What did that mean?

He knew what he wanted it to mean. Because as much as he wanted blood, he still wanted her. If she’d let him, he’d take her and deal with the consequences.

“I’ll hurry,” he said.

The piece in his ear shut off, spilling static.

Blue called Pagan from the road and told her he would come by her place around ten for a chat-up, as Evie would say, then hung up when she rapid-fired questions at him.

Non-man-whore move: he wasn’t going to destroy her dreams and aspirations over the phone.

Besides, there was nothing he could tell her that would make her feel better about what was about to happen.

He stopped at Evie’s safe house to grab the laptop and Lucky Horn flash drive, then went home to get his favorite SUV and let his neighbors know he was back in business.

Finally the moment of truth arrived.

He checked the perimeter of Pagan’s house for any surveillance equipment—found none—and made his way to the door. She answered before he had a chance to knock, and a hard fist of guilt pummeled him. She wore a slinky red dress that hugged her voluminous curves, and her blond hair framed her perfectly made-up face. She’d gotten dolled up for him.

She was beautiful and stacked and everything he’d once thought he wanted—but nothing he truly did. Seemed he had a taste for a certain slender, dark-haired, doe-eyed girl and only she would do.

I’m sorry, Michael.

I’ll be waiting for you, Evie had said.

Be naked, he should have told her.

Pagan motioned him inside, and as he passed her she said, “Where have you been? Why didn’t you call? Who were you with? I have a right to know!”

He turned to face her, hating himself more than ever. Just get it over with. Tone gentle, he said, “I’m sorry, Pagan, but this isn’t working for me.”

Shock registered a moment before a nervous laugh slipped from her. “I know I’m acting like a witch right now. I’ve been worried about you, that’s all. But you’re here now, so I can relax. Let’s have a drink and we can discuss something else.”

Witch? Evie would have shot him in the face and called him a whore. And as much as he always despised when she used the word, he kind of preferred that kind of response to this. Acceptance.

Pagan took one of his hands and urged him forward. He planted his heels and clasped her other hand, holding her in place.

“You’re asking questions you have every right to ask,” he said, “and if I was a good man, I’d answer them. But I’m not, and I’m sorry about that, too. You deserved better than I gave you and you deserve better than you’re getting.”

Paling, she released him to twist the silk of her dress. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying . . . we’re over. I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“You’re serious,” she gasped out.

“I am.”

“But . . . but . . . is there someone else?”

He gave her the hard truth. “Yes.” He owed her that much at least.

She threw herself at him and gripped his shirt, clinging. “Who is she?”

“Does it matter?”

“Tell me. Tell me right now. Is there more than one?”

“Pagan. Don’t do this to yourself.”

A moment passed, then two, and all she did was breathe heavily. “You’re right. I don’t care who she is.” Her hand trembled as she hooked a lock of hair behind her ear, her gaze never leaving him. “Get her, or them, out of your system. I don’t mind. Then come back to me.”

He pried her fingers from his T-shirt and kissed her knuckles. As tenderly as he was able, he said, “No, Pagan. This is good-bye between us.”

“But . . . but . . .” Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Blue. Don’t do this. Please.”

Maybe he should have done to her what he’d done to Noelle Tremain, and given her a reason to break things off with him. That way he could leave her with her heart intact.

No, he thought next. The guilt of what he’d done to Noelle still haunted him. This was the better way. The honest way.

The right way.

Sometimes the truth could tear a person apart piece by piece, but at least the pieces could be welded back together, stronger than before. With lies, the pieces went up in flames before they ever hit the ground, and there was nothing left to patch.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind about this. And, Pagan? You should be happy that I won’t. You’re far better off without me. You want a family. I don’t.”

“But I don’t have to have a family,” she rushed out. “Besides, I don’t even want one. Not without you.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t change your heart’s desires for me or any man.”

She pressed on. “Take some time to think about this. It’s late, and you’ve been gone, so you’re probably tired right now. Yes. You’re tired, that’s all. Get some sleep and we’ll talk again.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Yes. You will. You must.”

He tried again. “You’re a beautiful, passionate woman, and someday a man will come along and put you first. But that man isn’t me.”

“I don’t have to be first. I just want to be with you. Please, Blue. I love you. Love you so much.”

He’d never considered the fact that she might actually love him. He wouldn’t have stayed with her this long if he had. “You’ll get over me,” he said softly. “One day you might even thank me for this.” Then he stalked out of the house, feeling like a total tool because the breakup was over—and all he wanted to do was go to Evie.