by Jane Cousins
“What’s wrong with this picture?” Darcy muttered under her breath, trying to pin down what nagged at her finely tuned senses.
“No birds for a start.” Declan glanced over at the nearby towering gum tree that sat in the middle of the roundabout immediately in front of the farm house. “And no gerbil up a tree.” Declan had tensed up the moment they’d started down the driveway.
“What’s got you squirming?” Darcy had sensed his physical cringe, she could tell by the way his breathing changed almost imperceptibly. Because she was that good at reading people, not because she had become weirdly and highly attuned to Declan Benavidez.
“This is Daria Geddes’s place. Usually by now she’s at the door, wearing some weird outfit that I think is supposed to… attract my attention.”
“Daria’s place. Of course. She’s the one who keeps driving her pet gerbil up the gum tree and calling you to come get it down.”
“Joker, and the poor thing hates heights.”
“I heard Daria quit dressing like Hadleigh a while ago.” Darcy’s nose wrinkled in distaste as she recalled her distant cousin sporting a tousled, mangy, curly red wig and fitted black fatigue pants, top and shit kicker boots. Daria really didn’t have the height to pull off that look.
“After Hadleigh’s melding she went through quite a long blue period.” Declan winced in recollection.
“Blue period? She was depressed?”
“No, she decided that blue was my favourite colour and started wearing it head to toe.”
“Did you ever just consider telling the woman that you’re not interested? Letting her down gently.”
“Please. I can not count the number of ways I have tried to get the message through. But she refuses to listen and laughs off anything I say as if its some sort of weird game we are playing.” Declan glanced once more at the empty skies. “So, you thinking ambush?”
“Definitely.” Darcy continued to study the quiet farmhouse, the pieces of the puzzle though just wouldn’t fit. “Daria clearly has a hankering for unobtainable gorgeous men, so its not a stretch to think she might have summoned an Incubus.”
“You think I’m gorgeous?” Declan fluttered long lashes Darcy’s way.
“I’m putting myself in her shoes, Idiot. It’s called empathising.”
“You empathise? Seriously, pull the other one.”
“Fine, okay, yes, I fake the empathising, but don’t tell Nell. What I really do is treat everyone I meet like a potential criminal and I profile them, happy?”
“And do you give everyone nicknames, like you are living in Gotham City?”
“Sure, you’re the Leery Lech.”
“Hey, uncalled for. I’ve never leched a day in my life.”
Darcy kept her attention unwaveringly on the main house, reluctantly having to agree with him. Declan was relentlessly cheerful, shit, most days he was down right sunny, but she didn’t think she’d ever witnessed him actually hound dog after a woman. Why would he need to go to any effort looking like he did? The man was honey and every woman alive a bee.
Sure, he occasionally settled those violet orbs on her and ramped up the heat. But it wasn’t done so in a sleazy manner, nor did it mean anything. He just couldn’t stand the idea that there was one woman alive who wasn’t attracted to him.
Darcy ruthlessly pushed away the image of her handcuffed, skirt up, Declan on his knees behind her. That incident was the result of a sugar high, and that was the story she was sticking to.
“Why is Daria’s name on our list?”
“According to Maureen, Daria put in for two weeks of leave.”
“I suppose there is a possibility Daria is snuggled in there with a Demon lover.”
“You don’t sound as if you belief that option?”
“It’s almost a week now, I’ve seen Daria’s bank records and I know what she earns, she couldn’t afford the services of an Incubus for that amount of time.”
“Maybe, playing devil’s advocate, excuse the unintended pun, she did summon the Incubus, they met, fell in love and are just holed up in their love-nest, lost in each other’s arms.”
Darcy’s only reply was to make a gagging sound.
“You have a problem with my theory?”
“Love? What a crock. And a Demon in love? Double crock.”
“All sorts of unlikely people fall in love, Darcy. Just off the top of my head… Hadleigh… Locke… Erik and lets not forget Fen. I don’t think love is something you can control or fight.”
“Watch me.” Darcy tucked her hair behind her ear.
“I do… all the time. And I think you’re lying to yourself.”
“Excuse me?” Darcy was a little freaked out to discover the idea of Declan watching her sent unexpected delight zipping through the web.
Ruthlessly understanding herself, her motivations, her abilities and her reactions was at the core of Darcy’s magic ability. Declan’s words unsettled her. Shit, that unbalanced feeling that she loathed was back once more.
“You act like you don’t believe in love, but that’s not true.” Declan’s lips twisted up in a wry smile. “What you have is control and trust issues.”
“Who died and made you Doctor Freud?” Darcy fought to keep her expression bland, refusing to let Declan see that this topic thread was for some strange reason unsettling her. “And everyone knows I have control issues… I know I have control issues. And I haven’t been lying to myself, I am the most ruthlessly honest person I know.” Darcy fumbled for her seatbelt, she was over this conversation.
“Not when it comes to love, you’re not. And do you want to know the reason you are lying to yourself?”
“You’re being ridiculous.” Why wouldn’t this stupid seatbelt work?
“You’re scared.”
Darcy’s spine went rigid, pale ice blue eyes pinning Declan in place. “You take that back.”
Grinning, not even slightly quavering in fear, Declan continued blithely on. “Love is unpredictable. And it requires trust to give yourself to someone, body and soul. And even more trust to let all your barriers down, let someone see the real you… that’s what you’re scared of.”
“Stop using that word. And it’s not true, none of it is true. Now, shut up, we are on the clock, no one is paying you for a therapy session.” Finally, Darcy’s seatbelt unlocked, bloody thing had to be faulty. “Focus. Now, either Daria is in there with the Incubus, either complicit or a dupe somehow in helping him fall off the grid. Or, she really did leave town and some nefarious third party is making use of her property in her absence, say the Pagan Priestesses, for example.”
Darcy adjusted her rear view mirror, noting their surveillance team had halted by the mailbox but seemed more interested in wiping bird crap off their bikes and helmets than actually paying any attention to them right now.
That supposed disinterest grated, sending up an alert. The last thing the biker babes ever were was disinterested in Declan. If he was around they were tracking him with clear desire in their eyes, bosoms heaving in anticipation. This whole situation reeked of manipulation and practically screamed trap. Cool.
Out of the car, Darcy kept her gaze on the house. No movement in any of the windows, and still no birds. She was aware of Declan strapping his sword to his back and coming around the front of the car to stand beside her.
“Feels like a trap.” He mused, violet eyes assessing the house’s defences.
Damn, she hated that she couldn’t just write Declan off, he was sharp and smart, but he wasn’t right about her. She wasn’t scared of love or anyone seeing the real her. She didn’t have hidden depths or consider herself any great mystery. She knew who she was. Darcy Montgomery. Special Liaison. Sociopath with well intended homicidal tendencies. Spider Web Mage. She worked best alone. And she could send anyone… anyone screaming in terror when she used her number eight harsh look… except, it seemed, for Declan Benavidez.
He’d accused her of being scared. But he wasn’t, not of her. He
’d proven fearless time and time again. He never backed down. In fact, sometimes it seemed he went out of his way to push her buttons. His sheer presence jangled her senses, sending weird vibrations through the web, melting the icy depths she was so used to dwelling in that she barely felt the frostbite anymore.
Darcy counted on people being predictable, but the more time she spent with Declan, the more she was beginning to think that she’d never really known him. What did he want? She thought she knew what motivated him… women. But that assumption was starting to feel wrong. Darcy loathed being wrong, it was only one step below failure.
“Let’s go.” She didn’t stop to check if Declan was ready, she didn’t care. She was counting on there being someone… something inside this house that required a world of hurt being smacked down repeatedly and violently on their head.
At her nod, Declan knocked. They waited, no sound, no footsteps, no birds tweeting. Declan flicked another look Darcy’s way, waiting for the go ahead. Damn, she liked that he knew who was in charge here and was willing to take orders. Just why had she thought he was so ego-driven all these years? Shit, focus, she didn’t do distractions.
Declan tried the doorknob, no big surprise that it turned. Swinging the door open they waited three breaths, no big bad appeared. Silently they entered. The rather drably decorated living area was empty. The whole place felt… vacant, no, like it was a holding a big bated breath, waiting. But for what?
No sooner had that thought flickered through her head when the front door slammed shut with an ominous thud, trapping them. Darcy switched into hyper alert mode, beside her Declan unsheathed his sword and was likewise ready.
Come on, come on, there was a fine line for Darcy between anticipation and boredom. Bam, heavy shutters slammed down over all the house. The sounds echoing as the shutters plunged the entire house into shadowy darkness.
The situation had turned distinctly ominous… and so much fun. Darcy shot a quick look at Declan through the gloomy light to find him grinning broadly. She’d like to accuse him of being perverse and weird, but she was very aware of the matching grin on her own face.
They moved back to back, in sync, no signals having to be passed. Darcy strained to see through the gloom, seeking a target. But the house remained deathly quiet… except now she could hear a soft steady hiss.
“Gas.”
Declan got the word out, even as Darcy’s knees buckled beneath her. Shit, it was fast acting and being more petite, Darcy was hit first and hardest. Declan grabbed for her, holding her upright, even as he began to sway. She tried to walk, help Declan as he staggered them over to the door. Her vision beginning to cloud, watching him fumble for the doorknob, Declan trying to wrench open the door, failing, unsurprisingly. No one springs an elaborate well thought out trap like this and leaves the front door unlocked like a numb nut.
Declan pulled her in close, if he hadn’t been holding her up Darcy was sure she’d be splayed out on the floor by now. Declan’s body heat surrounding her. It was strangely comforting, not that she needed comforting, aware of Declan sliding down to sit on the floor, his back against the door, her cradled in his arms. Hmmm, there were worse places to be.
As her eyes fluttered shut Darcy couldn’t help but mentally applaud the trap maker, simple, fast acting and efficient. It took a ruthless mind to conceive of such a thing. She couldn’t wait to meet them and introduce them to Mr Baton.
Chapter Seventeen
Darcy was alert and conscious, but she played it smart. Lying still. Breathing even and unchanged. Yeah, she could totally give two-month-old Asher a lesson in faking people out.
Quickly she catalogued all pertinent data. She was lying on the ground, no restraints, boy, were they, whoever they were, going to rue that oversight. The air was dust-free but tainted by the smell of recently applied paint and soldered metal. A purposefully built cell, she was guessing. One located underground, it had that feeling. Daria’s basement? It would make sense.
Listening carefully she was relieved to hear the steady breathing of a second person, slow, as if they were asleep or unconscious. It had to be Declan, good, they’d kept them together.
She stretched her finely honed senses further still, straining to catch even the most trivial bit of information that could help her deal with the situation. Brrr, the hairs along her arms and the back of her neck lifted. Weird, it didn’t feel overly cold down here. Yet deep inside, at the core of her web, Darcy suddenly felt icy cold anger sitting like a lump in her gut.
To be expected. It was galling to be caught in a trap for the second time this week. And that’s what happened when a Spider Mage became unbalanced… distracted… disturbed.
Enough, she flicked her eyes open. Calculating the dimensions of the middling sized room. Bare cement walls, recently reinforced. Recessed lighting, damn, no access to electricity. No windows. One door, metal, with a viewing hatch that was currently open. Hmm, so they were being watched.
Darcy sat up, looking around slowly. There was no water or toilet facilities. This wasn’t intended to be a long-term stay. This was temporary holding until they could be moved somewhere more private and secure. And Darcy could not let that happen.
Liquid fast, Darcy shot to her feet. Through the viewing hatch she heard a small gasp and a whispered shushing. Two guards, she was guessing. Probably the two Pagan Priestesses that had been on their tail all morning. Yes, when she moved closer to the small open hatch she could smell the distinct odour of patchouli perfume combined with bird shit.
Okay, what did she have to work with? One unconscious apprentice Enforcer, and not one stick of extraneous furniture. She’d been stripped of all her weapons; knives, throwing stars, Mr Baton, handcuffs, taser… except they’d missed the belt that doubled as a laser whip. Woo-hoo.
She had a weapon, now she just needed some kind of leverage. Glancing down she noted Declan sprawled out on his back. Somehow between them being gassed and brought in here his t-shirt had gotten torn, typical. Nice abs. Darcy looked around the room again to double check she hadn’t overlooked anything. Nope. Damn.
Hold on, her gaze shifted back to Declan. Hmmm, maybe she did have some leverage after all.
Moving to stand over him, she noted unsurprisingly that the man looked like a serious angel when he slept. There was no sign of the dimples, his face relaxed, jaw chiselled, wheat blonde hair dishevelled and perfectly mussed. It was annoying how good-looking the man was. It normally… disturbed her. But right now, it annoyed her. So Darcy gave in to her inner diva and kicked the man hard in his too tight ass.
Declan jerked awake, sitting up, taking one deep breath and then a second. Reaching up to push his hair back out of his eyes, his t-shirt of course gaping open even further, displaying sculpted abs, and a vast amount of blemish free alabaster skin. Darcy refused to be distracted.
“Get up.”
“Hey.” Violet eyes scoped the room and then Darcy carefully as Declan got gracefully to his feet. “You okay?”
Darcy could all but hear their two guards standing outside the heavy metal door, eavesdropping intently. “Fine.” Darcy stepped forward so that her shoulder brushed his chest, her senses noted his body heat, but frustratingly it wasn’t enough to thaw the chill spreading through Darcy’s core. On tip-toes she rested her lips against his ear. “Play along.” She whispered.
Declan whipped his head around and planted a quick stolen kiss on those full cupid bow lips. “Sure.” He winked conspiratorially.
All her instincts thrummed with ice cold tingles. Absently Darcy wiped her mouth. She was in the zone. Some loose-lipped lothario had no chance at diverting her focus. Hah, just went to prove that her Spider Web Mage powers were finally back on line and she was tight-rope balanced, ready to play the threads like a maestro.
First step. Play the leverage card.
She watched Declan’s eyes widen in surprise, which quickly shifted into wariness as she whipped off her belt and set the laser level to low. A soft elect
ronic hum filled the air as the laser cracked outwards, glowing a soft pink as it wrapped itself around Declan’s neck.
Blink and you’d miss her, she was that quick, Darcy was behind him, hauling back hard, making Declan bow backwards as his fingers dug futilely at the whip trying to loosen it. His yelp of terror completely sold the moment. Damn, she had forgotten what a good actor he could be. His Hamlet really had been masterful. Darcy would have to remember to praise him later.
Predictably there was panic outside the door. Followed by a quick flurry of faces in the hatchway as their guards took in the situation. Darcy could hear the women’s shocked whispers, laden with worry and caution. Couldn’t have that last one. “You only want this simpleton. Let me out.”
More hurried whispers were exchanged.
Declan made a strained gurgling sound, struggling ineffectually in her hold. That’s right, sell it. Darcy hauled back harder still on the restraint lock she had on him, pleased, he was really getting into the spirit. She needed to learn to have more faith in the man, he hadn’t let her down yet. Despite all his strange and disturbing chatter about wanting it all from her, and saying things like he could see the real her, he was a good Enforcer.
“I said, let me out.” Darcy frowned, the agitated whispered discussion between the guards had gotten a little louder. One of the Pagan Priestesses was clearly wavering.
Declan let out an even louder groan as Darcy grabbed a fistful of his blonde locks and yanked.
“If you don’t let me out I won’t just hurt him, I’ll make your pretty boy not so pretty first before I’m done with him. You only want him, don’t you? Think what an inconvenience I will be. Open the door, and let me go, and I’ll leave your Love God here.” Damn, still no response… then the metal door swung open. Thank you Goddess.
One black leather clad biker babe moved into the room, holding a wicked edged blade at the ready, no guns in here, too tight a space and their blessed Declan might get hurt.
