Black and Blue

Prologue

CORBIN BLUE TUCKED HIS girlfriend against his side, smiled his patented bedroom smile, and faced the cameras, playing the part of irreverent debaucher to perfection. As usual.

In reality, he was the World’s Best Spy and Assassin (trademark pending), with the singular ability to kill everyone around him with only a thought. Too bad mass homicide was not tonight’s orders.

Another round of flashbulbs nearly blinded him, and voices assaulted his ears.

“Blue! Noelle! Over here.”

“Any wedding bells in your future now that the New World Order has legalized human-otherworlder marriages?”

“Blue, how did it feel when you broke the Mack’s spine during last week’s game?”

The crowd went silent, willing to wait for his answer this time.

“Like I should have hit him harder,” he said. Football was his cover. And the Mack, well, he was the quarterback for the Strikers, the number two–ranked team in the National Otherworld Football League, and collateral damage.

Besides, it wasn’t like the guy had suffered for more than a few days. He was an Arcadian, like Blue, and healed supernaturally fast. In fact, the arrogant prick was already back on his feet.

Noelle patted Blue’s chest, her gray eyes twinkling mischievously. “Here’s hoping for permanent damage next time,” she announced in her I-just-want-to-be-naked voice.

While gasps of shock and glee swept through the paparazzi—the sharks had scented blood—Blue ushered Noelle into the crowded hotel ballroom that had been transformed into a twinkling wonderland. Multicolored flowers hung from the ceiling, and black velvet embedded with faux-diamond lights draped the walls.

A collage of perfumes scented the air, mixing with the effervescence of champagne and the aroma of smoked salmon on herbed crackers carried on trays by more than a hundred waiters.

The same conversations Blue had heard a million times echoed.

“Who are you wearing?”

“Did you hear about—” Blah, blah, blah.

Two minutes in, and Operation Lullaby was already boring him.

Come on, people. Let’s try a new play on this field. He loved both of his jobs, and he was certainly great at them, but nothing challenged him anymore. Everything came so easily. From missions to ball games . . . to women.

Where was the fun? The excitement? The danger?

“After we’ve said our hellos”—Noelle swiped a glass of bubbly—“let’s sneak into the bathroom and make out.”

Can’t sigh. He checked his watch. Ten thirty-four. Would he have time for a will-we-won’t-we-be-caught quickie? No, probably not. Even though he expected tonight’s plan to encounter zero problems, he knew it would be better to act as if the worst could happen.

“Sorry, Elle. That’s a no go.” To prevent any pushback, he said, “That’s not the way we act in public, is it?”

She bowed her head, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “I guess not.”

And the Boyfriend of the Year award does not go to Corbin Blue.

He hated dishing the naughty child treatment to Noelle, but sometimes it was the only way to stop her from inadvertently ruining a mission.

She was a sweet girl, though she practically sprouted fangs and horns when anyone riled her temper. Despite Dr. Sweetness and Miss She-devil, which he actually liked, she wasn’t his type. She had no idea she’d been handpicked by his boss and mentor, Michael Black, or that Blue worked for the government and he had stayed with her for the past year only for her connections. She thought they were in love.

Yes, he was a total douche for lying to her. He knew it, and tried to make it up to her with orgasms. “Just wait till we get home . . .” he whispered, hoping to soothe her. He kissed the hollow of her neck before maneuvering her through the crowd.

Smart people stepped out of his way. He had a reputation for causing “unnecessary bloodshed” in a sport lauded for its brutality, and as an Arcadian, one of the most feared races ever to cross a bridge of inter-world wormholes to live on earth, he possessed countless supernatural abilities. Not that the good citizens of the world knew about the majority of those abilities.

Like, say, the fact that he could propel the hotel through the sky if ever he unleashed the power frothing inside him. He could compel certain people to do anything he wanted with only a few spoken words. He could heal others with only a touch, though he had to take their pain inside himself. He could drain others just as easily.

He could do a thousand other things, but only a rare few could actually feel the energy humming inside him.

He scanned the sea of faces, searching for his crew. He spotted John No Last Name first. The golden-skinned Rakan despised crowds, but there he was, dressed in a waiter’s frock, offering an older lady a glass of deep-red wine while the woman behind him gave him a good old-fashioned eye-screw.

Aaannnd . . . there was the big and monstrous-looking Solomon Judah standing in front of a set of terrace doors, acting as security. Not even Solo’s closest friends knew his origins. They just knew to stay far, far away whenever his dark side took over. He made the Hulk look like a toddler who’d just had his paci taken away.

Blue, John, and Solo had met over two decades ago, after Michael rescued each one from a broken home. Or, in Blue’s case, a darkened street. And though they had been given to different families, they’d come together every weekend to train, and quickly bonded. They’d worked together, killed together . . . and, in the end, saved each other. There was no one Blue loved more.

A low, sultry laugh drifted through the kaleidoscope of noise to caress his ears. The blood in his veins heated, surprising him. Interesting him. Muscles knotting with sudden eagerness, he searched the ballroom for the source—there.

Cue the slow-mo special effects. His surroundings blurred, a lone woman becoming the center of his focus. The only thing he noticed. She wasn’t facing him fully, but had her side to him. Her dress was sapphire blue, the material clinging to her slender frame until flaring at her feet and trailing behind her like waves in the ocean.

The imagery fit. She was straight-up man bait, and he was already hooked and reeled. Her black-as-night hair curled down her back in long, shimmering ribbons. Pale skin with rosy undertones glowed as if she’d just rolled from bed—not completely satisfied, since she hadn’t left his.

Five minutes alone with her. That’s all he needed to take her from “not completely” to “utterly.”

She was spectacularly animated as she spoke to a blond female in a red dress, her hands waving through the air. Then she turned in his direction, grinning, clearly searching for someone. Her gaze skipped right over him—what the hell?— as she pointed and the other girl nodded.

The force of her beauty hit him. Followed by her identity. His mouth dried the moment he realized he was lusting after none other than Evangeline Black. Michael’s youngest daughter. Early twenties, lovely . . . and completely off-limits.

Blue had known she would be here, among the rich and famous, celebrating eighty years of peace between humans and otherworlders. Earlier, Michael had shown him a picture of her.

Look out for her, but don’t touch her, he’d said, his tone sharp. I didn’t get to be a father to her while she was growing up, so I’m making up for it now. She is never to be a conquest.

Defile the offspring of a man he respected? Never.

In the picture, she appeared innocent and pretty, so he had no problem assuring Michael of his pure intentions. No problem meaning what he said.

In person, she appeared wanton and gorgeous, and Blue was having trouble catching his breath. Defile? With pleasure.

Apparently, she spent most of her life overseas with her mother, and the last two years secretly training with her father. Tonight was her final lesson. Michael wanted her dropped into the middle of a mission, with only the barest of facts, having only seen photos of her team.

“Oh, no. My mother just spotted me,” Noelle muttered, reminding him of her presence. “I’ve got to hide before she corners me and tells me all the ways I’ve disappointed her. Join me?”

“I’ve got to say hello to Michael’s daughter,” he said, tearing his gaze from the dark-haired girl.

Noelle cringed. “I think you’ve got it worse. Good luck.”

Worse than the devil’s twin sister? “Wait.” He took his girlfriend by the shoulders. Exactly. You have a girlfriend. Remember that. “You know her?”

“We met the last time I was in Westminster. Let’s just say she’s unforgettable and leave it at that. Why ruin the surprise?”

Unforgettable wasn’t a bad thing. “Outsassed you, did she? Well, I doubt I’ll have the same problem. I happen to know how to charm the ladies.” A flicker of guilt accompanied the words. If she only knew half the things he’d done . . .

She grinned with wicked anticipation and gave him a little push in Miss Black’s direction. “Go charm her, then. Give her everything you’ve got. You can tell me all about it when we get home—after you’ve nursed the Blue Ranger and his berry good friends back to health.”

No one could be as bad as Elle was leading him to believe.

As she raced away to avoid her mother, Blue homed in on Evangeline. He felt like a hunter who’d just spotted the tastiest of prey. At her side, he noted the scent of honey and almonds wafting from her. The fire in his veins sizzled and smoked.

“—bloody hot,” she was saying to the pretty blonde, her accented voice rich and smooth, as much of a caress as her laughter. “I mean it. At least ten guys have mentally stripped you out of your knickers. I’m only surprised you haven’t been ticketed for indecent exposure.”

The girl giggled behind her hand.

Seizing the opportunity, he said, “Miss Black. I’m—”

She sucked in a breath, the action so inherently sexual his body responded as though she’d stuffed her hand down his pants and gripped his length. Careful.

As her smile melted away, she turned in his direction. Their gazes collided, locked, and he experienced an instant shock of awareness. Her eyes were a rich, chocolate brown, and the longer she looked at him, the more her pupils dilated.

A sign of attraction.

I’m in trouble.

“I know who you are,” she finally said, her tone giving nothing away. “You’re Corbin Blue. Breaker of spines and hearts. A legend on and off the field. And an absolute, total tool.”

A tool. As in strong, reliable. Able to fix any problem. He would assume that’s what she meant.

He ran his tongue over his teeth. Charm. Taking her hand—not that she’d offered—he pressed a kiss against her knuckles. Her skin was surprisingly calloused and scarred, yet deliciously warm, and for the first time in his life he actually tingled from contact with another person . . . as if he were a woman overdosing on sappy romantic comedies. He mentally berated himself.

“Please,” he gritted. “Call me Blue.”

Rose infused her cheeks as she jerked from his hold. “I suppose you may call me Evie.”

Formal tone, but oh, that blush . . . or was it a flush of deeper attraction?

Either way, instant hard-on.

You can’t go there with this one, remember? Even though Blue was only using Noelle, he had never cheated on her—except when the job had demanded it. He wouldn’t start now. Especially with Michael’s precious.

Eyes narrowed, Evie hitched her thumb at him and said to the blonde, “He’s exactly the type of male I warned you about. Lovely on the outside, poison on the inside. Stay far, far away.”

Irritation was like a hook in his chest, snagging several other darker emotions. She didn’t even know him and yet she dared speak about him like that? You read this one wrong. No way she’s attracted.

The little blonde was a few years younger than Evie, probably no more than eighteen, as well as shorter, curvier, and not nearly as confident. She peered down at the black-and-white-tiled floor as she said, “Wonderful to meet you, Mr. Blue. I’m Claire.”

He arched a brow at Evie.

She elaborated, her expression softening. “Claire is my sister. From my mum’s side, not my father’s.”

Clearly she adored the girl.

He reached for Claire’s hand, but Evie moved between them, blocking him. Taking Claire by the shoulders, she said, “Darling, I’m having a chat-up with Blue, so I’m going to leave you for a few minutes. Will you be all right?”

Claire offered a wide, assuring smile. “Yes, of course.”

After kissing the girl on the cheek, Evie turned and hooked her arm through Blue’s, practically dragging him through the throng of laughing, chatting partygoers. The heat she radiated seeped through the fabric of his tux, stroking his skin. Felt good. Too good. He swallowed a mouthful of curses.

“I’m going to do you a solid and always be honest with you, no matter how cruel it may seem,” she said, nodding to an acquaintance across the room. “I’ll start with this little nugget of truth. I’m not interested in making nice with you. We’re here for a reason. Let’s get on with it and go our separate ways.”

It took him a moment to realize she was serious. Women just didn’t talk to him that way. They fawned. They flirted. They teased. “Did I kill your cat or something, and just don’t remember? What’s your problem with me?”

“Where to start?” she said on a sigh. “Oh, I know. How about the fact that you’re a he-slut? Or do you prefer the term ‘man-whore’?”

His sense of irritation grew. No wonder Noelle had warned him about the girl.

“Have you lived your life so perfectly you’ve earned the right to judge me?”

John stopped in front of them and held out a tray of crab cakes, golden eyes bright with determination. “May I get you anything, sir?”

Blue wanted to say “A rack and flogger,” but didn’t. John would have found a way to get the items for him. “Not yet,” he muttered, dragging the girl toward the terrace.

“Are you daft?” she demanded, picking up their conversation as if it had never lagged. “Everyone but your girlfriend knows about your affairs. Have you ever dated a woman you haven’t cheated on? Wait. Don’t answer that. If my opinion of you dips any lower, I’ll be tempted to murder you—just like I’m tempted to tell Noelle what you’re doing to her. I happen to like her and think she deserves better.”

All right. So. The worst had happened.

Through gnashing teeth, he managed to say, “You know why I’ve done what I’ve done.”

“Yes, and at any time you could have told Michael no. My guess? You like sharing your love juice behind your girlfriend’s back,” she said.

Love juice? What, were they fourteen?

Before he could comment, she tripped over her own feet, surprising him with her clumsiness when she’d been so graceful before, and bumped into—

Their target, he realized. The wife of a government official. A woman who had no idea she’d been caught selling her husband’s secrets to the highest bidders.

“I’m so sorry,” Evie said to her. “The big oaf hasn’t learned to share the walkways.”

Blue worked his jaw in an effort to release tension. The attraction he’d first felt for Michael Black’s daughter had been in the process of withering, and this just finished the job. He moved his arm to her waist, locking her against him, just in case she decided to bolt from the coming wrath.

The curves of her body fit perfectly against him. The heat of her burned his palm in the best way. Not that he noticed.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” he snarled softly.

“Of course I do,” she replied, using the language Michael taught all of his agents. A language of his own invention, ensuring no one else understood. “I took care of things. Our target will be dead within the next five minutes.”

He shook his head, but it only intensified his confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I stuck her with my ring.” She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. A walnut-sized sapphire twinkled innocently.

“You what?” he shouted. The people around him cast dark frowns his way. Lips pressed tightly together to silence a stream of curses, he hauled Evie past Solo and the terrace doors.

Solo sealed them outside, giving them a moment of privacy.

When Evie faced him, Blue was ticked to realize his attraction hadn’t died like he’d thought. In the moonlight, the woman was a goddess, and he was momentarily struck dumb. Her pale skin glowed, making her look like a priceless pearl trapped in a dark sea.

Then she opened her mouth and ruined everything. “You heard me,” she said, her tone snotty. She raised her chin. “I just did your job for you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Harpy! “Your arrogance is unprecedented.”

“Thank you.” She fluffed her hair, as if he’d just given her the best of compliments.

“And undeserved,” he finished with a snap. “It’s going to get someone killed.”

Her brow furrowed adorably. “Isn’t that the point of tonight’s entire operation?”

“Someone. As in you,” he corrected.

“Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

He snorted. “Jealous? Please.” Maybe a little.

Her smile was as sharp and cold as a blade. “Liar. But I’m afraid you’ve got a hard truth headed your way. I only get better. A lot better. I’m as good at defense as I am at offense.”

Can’t kill her.

She’s Michael’s daughter.

You respect Michael. Love him.

If he had to remind himself a thousand times, he would. And how foolish was he, to have craved a challenge? Challenges sucked. “Just so you know, I will be writing a review of your performance, Miss Black.”

“Great. I will pretend to care.”

Michael isn’t that good a friend, he decided. “You aren’t as superior as you think you are. You have no real experience.” A slight gust of wind danced a lock of hair over the deep V of her dress, drawing his gaze to her cleavage. Little teacup breasts, perfectly displayed. His hands fisted. “The target’s death was supposed to seem natural.”

“And so it will. I used a potion of my own creation. Completely untraceable.”

“Nothing is completely untraceable.”

“You haven’t seen my work. Yet.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. He wasn’t going to get through to this girl, was he? “I should put you over my knee.”

She snorted. “A spanking? Really? That’s your solution?”

“To start.” He wouldn’t contemplate the way he wanted to finish.

“Why are you so angry, anyway? It wasn’t like you had many choices. You couldn’t shoot or stab her. Your only real option was to sex her to death.”

I think I hate this girl.

“Look,” she said on a sigh. Dark eyes softened, revealing . . . a hint of vulnerability? “I admit I was predisposed to dislike you, John, and Solo because—well, it doesn’t matter. It’s my problem, and I’m trying to deal. I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh with you, but I needed to make this kill.”

Blue had always been able to sense the emotions in others. In fact, at the start of each new day, he purposely deactivated all things empathic. Only, Evie’s emotions were so strong they penetrated his shields. He felt her bone-deep hurt. Raw anger. Gut-wrenching fear.

Why?

He was desperate to know.

Desperate? Him?

Never.

He stepped away from her. End this. Now. “Apology accepted,” he said. “For future reference, you made two critical errors tonight. You didn’t work with your team—and the plan we already had in place—and you allowed arrogance to direct you. That’s the best way to make the worst decisions. You won’t be the only one killed.”

“Is that so?” Her narrowed gaze slid past him, taking in the party still in full swing beyond the doors. “I calibrated the poison to the target’s specific body mass and chemistry. If my calculations are correct, this mission will be over in three, two, one . . .”

Someone screamed.

Frantic footsteps sounded.

Evie grinned, all hint of vulnerability gone. “The target is now bagged and tagged. All thanks to me. Good luck next time, Mr. Blue.”