Black and Blue

Twenty-one

BLUE COMPELLED TIFFANY TO go to his car, then to sit quietly during the fifteen-minute drive to her house. She didn’t even protest when he jabbed a needle in her thigh and injected her with the isotope, even though he might have used more force than necessary. Hate this girl.

One task checked off his to-do list.

He parked at the curb, studying the row of town-homes. They were tall, well-manicured, and semi-attached brownstones. Tiffany’s was easy to spot, because there were two armed guards at the door.

“You will tell them you want me inside, that I will be spending the night, and they aren’t to disturb us.”

“Yes,” she said, eyes glassy and voice monotone.

Couldn’t be helped. He stepped outside, walked around, and opened her door. From this angle the moon wasn’t as bright and the stars weren’t as sparkly. Even better, the sidewalks were abandoned.

He threw an arm around her shoulders and walked her to her door. The guards watched him warily.

“I want him inside,” Tiffany said. “He will be spending the night, and you aren’t to disturb us.”

If they noticed the lack of inflection in her voice, they made no comment.

She swept inside and Blue moved in behind her, closing and locking the door.

He tugged her into the living room, just in case the guards were listening through the metal. “Do you have any servants?”

“No. We’re alone.”

“What about your brother and your father? Will they be paying you a visit?”

“No.”

Too bad. “Tiffany, you are tired. You will go to sleep now, and when you wake up, you will believe we had amazing sex.” That way, if he needed to see her again, she would be more likely to agree.

“Tired,” she said, then yawned. “Sleep. Sex.” Her eyes closed and her knees buckled, but Blue caught her before she hit the ground. He found the master bedroom upstairs, a big, messy space with clothes strewn all over the engineered hardwood floor.

He set her on the bed, stripped her, and messed up the sheets to support whatever sexual tale her mind wove.

As he searched the entire home, he planted bugs in each of the rooms. He looked over the few pictures she had, those of her with her father and brother. Judging by the way Star senior smiled at Tiffany, he adored her—information that could maybe be used against him.

Michael didn’t think Star was the type to cave to demands, but it might be worth a shot.

The townhome didn’t seem to have any secret passages. What it did have was stacks and stacks of clothing, different rolls of fabrics, and device after device loaded with digital sketches.

He looked over a few of the sketches, searching for anything having to do with the Golden Sunrise line—and finding plenty. He fought for control as he read her notations in the margins.

Save discarded cutouts from shoulders and use for decorative edging on skirt.

Cinch the pelt here to accentuate waistline.

Possible to blend the Rakan with silk for softer feel?

Suddenly the front door crashed open. Multiple pairs of footsteps sounded.

Blue dropped the device and reached for his pyre-gun. Three guards turned the corner just as he aimed. He could have fired on the one in the center and taken out the other two a split second later. But there were more guards filing in behind the original trio. He could release an energy ring, shocking everyone in the vicinity, but then he would be drained.

Why risk that if he could talk his way out?

When the first three pointed pyre-guns at him, he held his hands up, all innocence.

“Mr. Star would like to speak with you,” said the one in the middle. “The condition we find the girl in will determine the condition you leave in.”

Well, well. Good thing he’d opted not to go with group electric shock therapy. “What a surprise,” he said with a smile devoid of humor. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Star, too.”

Footsteps echoed from the staircase. Then a man called out, “She’s fine. Just sleeping.”

Blue allowed the men to lead him out of the townhome and into a dark SUV. He hoped Tiffany would be left at home, alone; with his hand at his side, he quickly texted Solo, telling him to go and get her . . . but to be careful. Still, Blue doubted things would be that easy. Most likely, Star would have her moved to a new and private location, kept under a more vigilant watch.

One man slid into the front seat as two sandwiched Blue in back, weapons trained on him.

“Are you afraid?” asked Front. “You should be afraid.”

“I’m hungry. Tiffany was a little wildcat, and I worked up an appetite. You got any snacks?”

Front glared at him.

The guy at his left watched him reverently. “Would you, I don’t know, sign my shirt or something, Mr. Blue? I’ve been a big fan ever since—”

A look from Front shut him up. “We allowed you to keep your weapons per Mr. Star’s orders. But that also means we have the right to defend ourselves if you act up.” He stroked the hilt of his gun. “Please act up.”

Blue smiled. “Another time, perhaps.”

The rest of the drive passed in silence. When the car stopped in Star’s driveway, he saw the entire area was illuminated by massive lampposts. Two other guards were waiting and opened the door for Blue to emerge. He did so without hesitation. Was John somewhere inside, and Blue missed him the last time he was here?

He scanned the foyer, taking note of every detail, things he might have missed in his haste. The floor was marble and veined in gold. The walls were white and flecked with gold. Overhead, the chandelier looked like vines of golden ivy, with thousands of tiny sapphires and rubies blooming from the emerald leaves.

Clearly, Star had an obsession with gold.

Calm. Steady.

A frowning Gregory Star opened a pair of double doors leading inside his office. He was a little taller than Tyson, with salt-and-pepper hair, a slim build, and the features of a man who’d seen the worst the world had to offer—and caused a lot of it.

“Welcome, Mr. Blue. Welcome.” He waved Blue over. “Come inside. Let’s talk in private.” Then he turned his back to Blue, as if he had no fear of what Blue might do.

Blue followed, without reaching for one of his weapons. Something to marvel over. But John’s welfare came before rage and revenge.

The office was very much like Michael’s. Dark leathers, massive desk, plush rugs, and hologram pictures of his children displayed on the walls.

Star settled behind the desk, and Blue plopped into a chair across from him.

“I don’t like that you went after my daughter,” Star said, hands forming a steeple in front of his face. “She’s innocent in all of this, and doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

Blue tsked. “Now, we both know she’s far from innocent, and frankly I’m insulted that you’d try to convince me otherwise.”

“So we’re not going to pretend ignorance of the situation,” Star said, nodding. “I approve.”

“I’m so glad,” Blue replied drily.

A fleeting smile, devoid of humor. “It took me a while to figure out that you are more than a football star, for which I’m deeply ashamed. I’m not usually so slow. But now, at least, I know you’re part of a government-run black ops team.”

“What gave me away?”

“My son sent men after Miss Black, hoping to force her father out of hiding. Those men turned up dead. And you, Mr. Blue, were spotted sneaking into her home soon after. So I asked myself, why would a playboy like you keep such a relationship secret? You wouldn’t be intimidated by the thought of bad press. You don’t care what people think of you. So I had to assume you weren’t there for sex but for protection. How am I doing so far?”

“Quite well, actually.” His reputation had finally served him well. Star had no idea Blue and Evie were romantically involved, or that Evie was an agent.

“Then, of course, there was the fact that you ran into my daughter, and bugs were found in my home. Yes. We found and destroyed them. And don’t think to try again. As of a few hours ago I added an audible pulse to the inside of my walls. I don’t know all the technical aspects, just that it will scramble any audio signals.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Star nodded as if he was serious. “Then there was the fact that my daughter became obsessed with you. And when you two were next together, she acted like a robot.” My men called me, concerned. You compelled her, I’m guessing?”

Blue shrugged.

“You know, you otherworlders might have your supernatural abilities, but we humans have our counters. There are drugs we can take to make us immune to Arcadian compulsion, though the side effects are terrible. I’d never thought it worth it. Until now. Also, I’ve seen you play. Seen the things you’ve done on the field, the power you’ve wielded. I’ve taken precautions against that as well. Try to expend your energy, I dare you.”

He was careful to keep his expression neutral. His weapons were being stripped away, one by one. “Hurrah for you, doing what you can to protect yourself. But there are other ways to get to you.”

A flare of irritation in Star’s eyes. One that held an edge of cruelty. Here was the boy from the streets. The boy suspected of selling organs on the black market. The boy with the skills to peel flesh from bones.

“You are angry with me, Mr. Blue, when there is no reason to be.”

“No reason to be? Are you kidding me? You bombed my boss and closest friends. And oh, yeah. Me.”

“You and your friends were simply collateral damage. Michael Black’s former assistant, Monica Gains, came to me. She said Mr. Black was a government agent and he was looking into seventeen disappearances now linked to my name. I was surprised, I admit. I considered Mr. Black an excellent business rival, but nothing more. She said we could help each other.”

Michael had been right.

“I rarely ask my associates for motive, but in her case, since I would be attacking the New World Order, I made an exception. Seems she had gotten herself into terrible debt, but your precious Michael wouldn’t help her. Instead, he made things worse by taking away her only source of income. And after all her years of dedicated service. Shameful.”

In his business, trust was everything, and Monica broke it. “So, when detonation day came, my friends and I were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Exactly.”

“But you decided to take advantage of the situation anyway. You sold one and took the Rakan.”

Star merely blinked, curious. “What makes you think your friend survived the blast?”

So much for not pretending. “I’ve seen the sketches. I know what you’re using him for, and I will not rest until he’s home safe.”

Star peered at him for a long while, silent, unaffected. “If I was worried about your involvement, Mr. Blue, you would be dead right now. But nothing I’ve told you can be proven, nor was it something you hadn’t already figured out on your own. I’ve taken every possible measure to protect my investment, as well as myself.”

“You’re not infallible.”

“Agree to disagree. Because, you see, Mr. Blue, if I die, your friend dies. I’m the only one who knows where he is. Without me, he will starve.”

Blue bit the side of his tongue until he tasted blood.

“Try to take my children to offer in trade, and you’ll find your friend’s parts sold at auction. An arm here, a leg there.”

“You would be condemning your children to death.”

“And I would grieve, despise you, and do everything within my ability to secure my revenge, but I wouldn’t be behind bars, and that’s what would matter most.”

How was Blue supposed to deal with a man this coldhearted?

“Speaking of my children, Tyson called me just before you arrived. He lives at the Star Light Hotel and he took Miss Black to his suite. He caught her snooping, making him wonder at her involvement in all of this. He’s determined to punish her”—Star lifted a pyre-gun—“and you’re going to be blamed.”