“Sorry,” the man said. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“How did you think I’d react?” she snapped and blinked hard to erase the flash of fear from her vision. “Oh my God.”
It was him. The Chameleon. Standing right in front of her. As large as a mountain and with biceps as big as watermelons. He wore his customary uniform of a fitted black long-sleeve shirt that stretched where he bulged, and the ever-present cowl covered his face. Standing so close to his magnificence, she could now make out the scalelike pattern of his tunic. The iridescent material shimmered and flattened as he moved. From far away he was an impressive sight, but in such close proximity he literally struck her dumb.
“Maybe you needed to be frightened.” He took a step closer. “I heard this area might be prone to criminal activity and here I find a delicate young lady alone, in the dark, practically asking to be mugged, or worse. Just what were you doing?”
“I dropped. Keys,” she managed to mumble as she pointed to the car.
His lips quirked a bit with a grin that deepened the dimple near the right corner of his mouth. “May I?”
May he what? Oh. She stepped back and stared at the wide expanse of his back as he bent to retrieve her keys. Man, she could roll out two batches of cinnamon rolls across that much surface. When he straightened, she snapped her mouth closed and prayed there wasn’t drool running down her chin.
“Here you go.” He placed the keys into her palm. The metal was warm from the heat of his hand. “What’s your name?”
“I’m—uh…” Holy crap. What was her name? “I—oh, I’m Fiona. Fiona.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Fiona.” The black fabric around his eyes made the flecks of gold in the honey-brown irises look electrified.
“Brown,” she whispered. What an unusual shade of brown they were too.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
His smile broadened. “Fiona. I’ve heard of you. I’m told that to sample your sweets is like tasting a slice of heaven.”
Oh the sweets she wanted him to sample.
She wrenched her mind from the gutter and focused on not continuing her spot-on impersonation of a major idiot. “Thank you. Can I get you anything? I have scone mix all scaled out and can whip up a batch right quick. Or candy. I have lots of chocolate-covered caramels made.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble, but thank you for the offer. I think it’s best to get you in your vehicle and send you safely on your way. It’s too cold of a night to be outside.”
“Why are you out then? And without a coat. Aren’t you freezing?”
“Hold up your hand,” he said with a secret smile that made her heart pound in her chest.
She lifted her hand and held her breath as he pressed his palm to hers. “You’re so warm.” She marveled at the amount of heat his skin generated. It was so toasty, she wanted to step into his arms and wrap him around her like a Snuggie.
“Where I come from is much colder than here. A night like this I consider to be overcast. There are people, like you, who need protection and so I am out to do what I can. But believe me, I’d rather be indoors in front of a fire with a good book and a mug of coffee right now.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“It would be even nicer to have someone to share a blanket with. Do you have anyone waiting for you at home?”
“No, I’m single. Very single.”
“That was a trick question. You shouldn’t admit those things to a stranger. What if I meant you harm and you’ve now confirmed no one is waiting for you?”
“You wouldn’t hurt me.”
“No, but you never know. I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”
“Seriously, I can take care of myself. You’re very overwhelming, and I have to admit, I can’t seem to form a sentence with you standing so close.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a step back.
“No!” She grabbed him by the tunic and hauled him closer. “Your heat feels nice.”
His low chuckle was just as warm. “Perhaps we can continue this conversation another time when we’re not in a dark, cold alley?”
“You want to see me again? I mean, not see me, see me, but see me?”
“Ah, Fiona, you make me laugh.” He trailed the tip of his finger down her cheek and along her jaw. “You’re like a cloud of cotton candy on a rainy day. Light, sweet and happy. I think you may be just what I’ve been looking for.”
Her breath caught as the hot pad of his thumb brushed along her skin and skimmed her lower lip. His gorgeous eyes blurred in and out of focus as she swayed on her feet.
“Breathe, Fiona,” he whispered.
“What?” She sucked in a cold breath. “Right. I’m all right.”
He chuckled and took the keys from her hand to unlock the car door. “Let’s get you inside and on your way. We’ll meet again. I promise.”
If she were smooth, she would have taken extra care to brush up against him. But she wasn’t. She barely managed to take the few steps around the door and fall hard into the driver’s seat.
“Thanks,” she said as she regained possession of her keys.
“Good night, sweet Fiona.” He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a scorching kiss against her knuckles and an answering burning ignited between her thighs.
Sweet. He called her sweet. She wanted to giggle, but stopped short of following the foolish reaction. “Good night, Chameleon.”
He straightened with a sharp jerk. “Please, call me…Cam.”
“Cam.” Nicknames already. She loved it. “Take care of yourself as well.”
He shut the door and waved as she pulled out of the parking space. In the rearview mirror he was a mythical figure, tall and imposing as he stood under the lamplight with tiny stars sparking off his tunic.
She kept her gaze on him until she was forced to turn the corner. Only then did her lungs begin to function properly and all of the blood rushed to her cheeks.
He wanted to see her again. Her. Fiona Corrione.
The little voice in the back of her mind whispered that this nice-guy routine might be his MO in bagging gullible women, but her heart whipped the notion into submission. She never heard of anyone being on a first-name basis with him. He had to be genuine.
The peal of laughter she tried to squelch burst forth. He wanted to see her!
Oh, there was so much to do. A haircut was first and foremost in order. Maybe she should pick up a good facial scrub at the store before heading home.
The snick of a memory dampened her excitement. Wasn’t she supposed to do something when she got home?
Right, she was going to call someone, but dang if she could remember who or what for.
She shrugged. It must not have been too important.
* * * * *
She wanted him.
Dhavin ran through the forest with light steps, leaping into the air to slap a jubilant high-five at the drippy tree branches.
Fiona wanted him. Well, not him specifically, but a part of him. She talked with him, smiled, trembled—she actually trembled when he held her hand. The lingering effects of her arousal still swirled through his mind, and his skin buzzed as if covered with a low-volt current.
A teeny-tiny part of his conscience itched at the dishonesty of his appearance in her life, but he’d take whatever he could get. If things between them worked out while under the guise of the Chameleon, then he’d explain everything, and she would be so in love with him it wouldn’t matter that they met in slightly less than honest circumstances.
Love?
The thought made him slow to a stop. Was he already thinking of sentiments so profound? Yes, Fiona interested him like no other woman and the idea of having a wife tickled his conscience more and more every day, but entertaining the notion was entirely different than actively pursuing a mate. And tonight was the first time Fiona looked at him with something besides wariness. Love was a monumental leap from infatuat
ion, and for a Skandavian, encompassed more than humans experienced. To meld his emotions with Fiona, he’d be entrusting her with all his secrets, as would she with him, whether she knew it or not.
Of course, there was always the option to not bond.
Hmm. He sat upon a rock and stroked his chin to contemplate this potentially land mine-laden field some more.
Back home many couples married and built families much the same way as the people on Earth, and did so with happiness and contentment. Then there were those who took their commitment to the ultimate level and became bonded mates, meshing their emotions as deeply as the man seated his cock inside his woman as the Sacred Vow was spoken. Forever entwined. One always a part of the other. Even beyond death.
That level of devotion was not something to take lightly, especially to a Llanos warrior who already was the ultimate example of responsibility and loyalty. Jesu, look what happened to Bale when his wife and child were killed. And they had only been married, for Bale hadn’t trusted his wife enough to bond. The grief and guilt over being unable to protect them had annihilated the warrior’s humanity, leaving him a seething cauldron of rage and vengeance that brought him all the way to Earth to kill Lucian, who he felt was responsible for the tragedy. Only Amaryllis’ deft hand had brought Bale out of the well of suffering. Barely.
Amaryllis believed the warrior could be rehabilitated and Dhavin trusted his princess explicitly, but at times he wondered if perhaps Lucian had been right and the assassin should have been put down when the chance had arisen. Of course Amaryllis would have made earrings out of their testicles if they had succeeded.
If he were to lose Fiona, would he plunge into the abyss of despair like Bale?
No. No. That fate was not a possibility. While Earth had its share of hardships and strife, it was a paradise compared to the harshness of Skandavia. What a relief it was to know that in this little corner of the world, no war would harm them and there was no villain too ominous, for his powers would keep them safe.
The sensation of a sharp, razor-like sting under his right ear and a strangled cry brought him up short.
Over the pounding of his hearts, Dhavin listened through the wind. To the right, about a mile out, distress vibrated along the tree limbs like a tuning fork.
With the opening of the casino, the crime rate in town had steadily increased. A result that was to be expected when launching an industry that fed off lowered inhibitions and delusions of grandeur. Most of the misconduct was relegated to the casino itself or the streets leading to and fro. But the woods were lovely, dark and deep, or so he had once heard them described in a poem, and the thick, gnarly forest of the Cascade Mountain range concealed secrets of the illicit and nefarious kind.
The Deep South had their moonshiners, in the Northwest, it was meth labs. Score a small win in the casino and a celebratory dime bag was within easy reach. Short on funds? A pocket was readily available to pick.
Dhavin raced over frozen pine needles and crunchy leaves. Twenty yards from his destination he climbed up the sturdiest-looking pine tree to perch in the foliage and observe the situation.
In the moonless night the players were nothing more than shadows moving through the darkness, but their heightened emotions were as effective as a spotlight.
Two men surrounded a third, who appeared bulky enough to be able to defend himself against his slighter-built opponents, but seemed to lack the will. He cried and held his hand to the side of his head as blood oozed from between his fingers.
“Shut up, bitch,” said one of the assailants as he backhanded the howling man, knocking him to his knees. “Take your spanking like a good little girl.”
“You didn’t have to cut off my ear, dude,” he whined in a high-pitched voice that sent a chill rattling along Dhavin’s teeth like metal scraping metal.
“Why do you need it, if you don’t listen?”
“I’m sorry, man. I said I was sorry. I’ll have your money tomorrow. I promise.” From his back pocket he withdrew a handful of tiny plastic baggies containing a spoonful of powder each. “Look, here’s the stash Smithwick fronted me. Take it. It’s all there.”
Except for the ounce the man consumed earlier in the evening, Dhavin noticed, digging his fingers into the tree bark as his vision blurred. Whatever strain of meth the man was on dulled his pain, but the adrenaline-laced panic feeding into his heart could not be controlled, pummeling Dhavin with the sensations. The man’s drug-fueled terror scattered out in a dozen different directions, both cloudy and sharp, like shards of glass poking through cotton batting.
“It’s not my money.” Thug number one grabbed Earless by the hair. “Mr. Smithwick was very kind when he granted you an extension. Your directive was clear. Three new clients or ten Gs by Friday, otherwise your ass becomes ours to do with as we wish. My choice is to make Christmas decorations out of your body parts. Heinz here may have other uses for your ass. He has clients with some kinky tastes, but he’ll have to try you out first.”
Heinz, who up until now was a silent statue witnessing the proceedings, unclasped his hands to readjust his cock through his black slacks.
“No! Please don’t fuck me. Let me go. I have two girls I can get you tonight. Let me call them and I can get them here in minutes, with cash. I’m telling you. They’re ready to buy.”
“If they were, you would have brought them to me already. And that still leaves you one short, Travis.” He kicked Earless between the shoulder blades and stepped on his neck. “What do you say, Heinz? Want to teach this bitch a lesson?”
Dhavin pulled the cell phone from his belt and sent Reutgers, the deputy on duty, a text message.
The Chameleon’s role was to be more of a deterrent than judge, jury and executioner, yet Dhavin wouldn’t balk at eliminating a threat if needed. Only his respect of his sheriff and her judgment stayed his hand. The agreement Brett made with Kristos was that the Chameleon would never interfere with police business, and while the justice system of this world rarely dispensed true justice, Dhavin made the same promise when he agreed to bear the mantle. Permanently eliminating these undesirables required no effort on his part, however Brett would see the truth, and he did not want to disappoint his commander.
Reutgers replied seconds later with an affirmative and an ETA. Dhavin adjusted his stance, ready to make sure none of the party left the scene.
Smithwick was a name the police department was hearing more and more of in recent months. A player in the city, Smithwick had his fingers in larceny, drugs and prostitution. He sent associates to manage his projects, never leaving himself open to be identified. His poison was growing and beginning to infect scenic Cedar and endangering the quiet haven the citizens had taken pride in creating. Lucky for them, the Chameleon was there to beat crime’s ugly head back into submission.
“Relax,” Heinz rumbled in a voice made of gravel. He grabbed the back of Travis’ baggy jeans and yanked them down, exposing the flesh of his ass. “You might like this.”
“I think you’ll like prison more,” Dhavin called out, jumping from his perch and landing on graceful feet before the trio. Not even a drug dealer deserved to be desecrated in such a manner. “Make this easy on yourself and put your hands on your head.”
Thug one was the first to wake from the shock of his arrival. “Hey, you’re the lizard guy. Well, fuck you. We’re conducting business here.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a snub-nosed pistol.
“I see.” Dhavin nodded his head. “Let me rephrase my request.”
On an exhale he traced across the slight distance, grabbing the two hired guns by the lapels of their wool sports coats and knocking their skulls together before the cloud of his heated breath rose over his head. He dropped the bodies where they stood and cuffed their wrists with the plastic ties he kept in his satchel. He then strode over to the weeping Travis, who was rolling in the sticky pine needles, struggling in the dark to pull up his pants.
Dhavin waite
d for him to gather what shred of dignity he could muster. Once he was properly clothed, he stopped him with a firm shout. “Stay where you are. You will be going to jail. The choice is yours as to whether you go under your own control or slumped in a chair, like those two.”
“Let me go, man. Please. Come on. I was almost ass-fucked.”
“If you end up in the same cell as those two, you still might be. The night is young. Perhaps that will remind you what happens when you deal with nefarious people.”
Travis picked up one of the plastic bags by his knees and held it up as if it were a winning lottery ticket. “Take them. Sell them, use it yourself. I don’t care. Just let me go.”
“What about Smithwick? Won’t he be sending more men after you?”
“I don’t care,” he shrieked. “Just let me go.”
Dhavin crouched down until they were nose to nose. “And how many others did you let go? How many did you keep from being destroyed by the drugs you provided them? How many lives did you help to their death?”
“Hey, man. That has nothing to do with me. I didn’t put a gun to their head and force them to use. They came to me. If they want to fuck themselves up, that’s their fault.”
“What an appropriate choice of words. Considering you were about to be fucked yourself. As you said, that’s your fault.” He smiled and straightened to a stand as he sensed the careful approach of others. “Right on time, Officer Reutgers. Over here. All but one suspect is restrained, but I don’t think he’ll be giving you any trouble.”
Reutgers and another officer stepped into the clearing with pistols at the ready. When they saw he had the scene secure, they lowered their weapons.
“You started without me?” Reutgers asked with a nod in greeting.
“Events were taking a turn for the gruesome and I could not, in good conscience, allow them to continue.”
“What exactly do we got going on here?”
“For this one here, possession with an intent to distribute. As for those two, not much, unfortunately. They’re Smithwick’s men, but the most I can testify to is assault for the smaller of the two and attempted rape for the one he called Heinz.”
Hero Unmasked: 3 (Heroes of Saturn) Page 4
