Wild Card

by Mark Henwick

  And the touch of our auras, the eukori. Mysterious. Beguiling. Lapping and merging at the edges, sending me flickering, disconcerting images of how my body felt to Jen.

  Not calming me at all, but I was no longer panicking.

  “Wow,” Jen breathed. “The blindfold works for horses, wasn’t sure it’d work for you.”

  I laughed nervously again. “You get mares to have sex with each other this way?”

  She giggled. “Don’t be silly. Mares sometimes need something to calm them when the stallion’s new. But the principle’s the same.”

  Her fingers touched my cheek, gently guiding me back into the kiss and I was flying again. Our tongues twisted languidly around each other.

  This time, she broke it, but slowly.

  I sighed. It was the sound of doubts finally trickling out of me. “Never done that before.”

  “Well, long overdue.” She stepped back and took my hand, pulling me lightly. “And time for you to come out of the closet.”

  I started laughing and she caught it.

  For a minute or two we couldn’t do anything else. Then she tugged my hand.

  I walked forwards blindly, trusting her to guide me. It was strange, to hand over responsibility and simply follow. I felt light. Calm and excited at the same time. Eager and relaxed.

  It was still a shock when her fingers began tugging at my shirt buttons. A pleasant shock, echoed in the depths of my belly. My hands came up to help, but she pushed them back down again.

  Then her hand slipped inside, pushing the shirt away, circling back to caress my breast as my shirt slid down my back.

  I gasped and Jen’s mouth closed over mine. My nipples were painfully sensitive to her gentle touch.

  Another couple of tugs. The rasp of the zip, my legs began to tremble as she eased the rest of my clothes off me. Her kimono floated down to the floor.

  I was completely blind, completely naked and completely loving it.

  A couple of steps and she was pushing me back onto the bed.

  It was soft as feathers beneath me, but not as soft as Jen’s skin against my mouth. I reached to pull her down on me.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” she said, pressing me back with a hand in the middle of my chest. “This is my show.”

  She grabbed my wrists and stretched my arms over my head, pinned them there.

  “God, you look amazing.” Her voice was rough with desire.

  “So do you.”

  “You can’t see me.”

  “Don’t need to.”

  We kissed again. She held herself off me, refusing to touch me anywhere else until my whole body felt like one endless hot zone, desperate to be kissed or stroked, anything.

  She paused. “How much self-control do you think you have?” she murmured.

  I laughed, releasing some of the growing tension that had me struggling for breath. “I’m lying here on your bed, blindfold, stark naked and begging you to make love to me. How much do you think?”

  “Hmm. Well, here’s your test.” She leaned over me, her lips grazed mine, swung away. Her breath tickled my chin, down my neck, sending goosebumps rippling over my chest. She let me go. “Keep your hands up there, whatever I do.”

  She roamed over me, holding herself just apart, touching me with nothing but her breath and the warmth of her body floating above me. I could sense exactly where she was. I groaned and arched my body, but she was merciless. The best I could manage was a fleeting hint like the kiss of a ghost or a dream of fingers that vanished with daybreak.

  Exquisite, unending torture.

  My hands knotted in the sheets and my jaw clamped in frustration, and at the very point I could bear it no longer, her clever tongue found me and I exploded, screaming, the velvet darkness of the blindfold filling with such sweet light.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  It was still deep night. We’d slept and woken many times together. When finally I woke and she slept on, I moved to the living room, unable to get back to sleep and not wanting to disturb her.

  Despite the broken sleep, I was feeling happy and peaceful. Fulfilled.

  Kin. Purr.

  I heard her footsteps.

  “I’m here,” I said, sitting up on the sofa.

  The situation was reversed from last night. I could see in this light, and she was blind. I went across and captured her, led her back to the sofa.

  “Everything okay?” A hint of concern hid under the casual question.

  “Of course. I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Oh.”

  I pulled her under the blanket and we tangled comfortably together, a patchwork of flesh and silk kimono.

  “Is everything really okay?” she asked again.

  “Depends what you mean. If you mean I had sex with another woman for the first time and is it okay? No. It’s not okay.” I hugged her closer. “If you mean did making love to you turn me inside out and fill my veins with champagne and make me want to do it over and over again, forever, then the answer to all that is, hell, yes.”

  “Oh.”

  “Hmm. Oh. Oh, what have you done to me?”

  The kimonos parted as I wrestled us around until I had her pinned under me.

  We’d swapped roles all night, sometimes with every kiss. I bossed her, knowing deep down that I’d enjoy being bossed next time. I’d never felt so relaxed.

  So very relaxed, I barely noticed until my fangs manifested and grazed her cheek.

  Her gasp was like a slap across the face. I tried to wrench myself away, but she wouldn’t let me go. Her hand snaked out and fumbled with the lamp. For a minute I thought she was going to hit me with it but she just switched it on.

  I had my hand in front of my mouth.

  “No,” she said, pulling it away. “Show me.”

  The tickle of fear and excitement from her teased me. The fangs stayed, for all my willing them to disappear.

  It wasn’t the sickening emotion of terror. She was a little scared and a little eager. She reached up and ran her tongue along a fang. I nearly came right then and there.

  “Wow,” she whispered. “Pia did say they were a hot zone.”

  I was trembling, in fear of what I might do to her and the urgent desire to do it. Our emotions mirrored each other.

  “Shh.” She left my throbbing fangs alone and hushed me. Her arms encircled me, drawing me back down into her embrace. “We both want this. You know I do, you can feel it, but we can wait. I understand.”

  The fever drained from me, pushed back out by a lazy, sensuous satisfaction. My Athanate took rain checks when they were written like this. The fangs disappeared.

  Our bodies stirred languorously together.

  I gently urged her higher and higher. Pia was right, Jen’s pleasure was sacred to me.

  And at the very moment she reached the peak, I pressed my lips to her ear and whispered. Then watched as the storm of her climax boiled through her.

  And whether it was the words themselves, for words have power, or the bond we shared, I could not stop myself from joining her.

  Chapter 58

  MONDAY

  Monday morning hadn’t even dawned.

  Jen had to make the 6 a.m. flight to New York. We’d gotten up early and dressed, close, sharing space, everything feeling strangely awkward and pleasantly familiar at the same time.

  I’d made the coffee and Jen was wheeling her overnight case into the living room when the rest of the crew trooped in.

  Pia’s face immediately lit up. Julie, equally quickly, adopted Sergeant face number 3—‘I offer no opinion on events I know to have just happened.’ David, such a smart man, hampered in this only by the wrong set of chromosomes, smiled in slight bewilderment at the Athanate contentment pheromones that had to be rolling off me.

  Jen didn’t give them time to make more of it.

  “David, I need the New York projections taken forward to account for the opening prices in London and
I need them now.”

  He handed over a USB with a quiet smile. “I’m back in Fort Collins today,” he said. “I’m going to need another day or so to unravel their system.”

  “That’s fine. Getting it right is what counts at the moment.”

  “Tom’s outside,” Julie said. “He wants to go now. They’ve upgraded the snowfall forecast twice in the last hour, and he’s worried about getting back.”

  “The flight’s okay?” Jen asked.

  “I just checked, we’re on. Not sure about the return.”

  “We’ll worry about that when it’s time.”

  She gave me a last hug and whispered in my ear. “Nothing will keep me away, but you really must stop looking like the cat who found her way into the dairy.”

  “Whose fault is that?” I murmured and she laughed as she moved away, trailing fingers down my arm.

  My fangs pulsed with pleasure, but I could already feel her absence like a physical pain.

  Paul came in and helped with the luggage.

  “Be careful,” I said to Julie.

  She smiled tightly. She looked down at her boots, the scatter of snow on them melting over the hallway’s clean floors. “Yeah. Boss, y’know,” she said, “after Keith gets out, if you’re still having difficulty finding your ass with both hands, we’d be okay to help out. If you—”

  “I’d love to have both of you on board,” I said, and I meant it. Julie being shy was a new one on me.

  She nodded her thanks and quickly followed the rest of them out, her security persona slipping back on like a jacket.

  Tom and Paul had come in two SUVs, but they were alone. It was an escort, but it was the barest minimum. Altau was stretched every which way.

  I stood and waved goodbye from the portico. The snow was falling steadily now.

  One of the guards I recognized walked past. He was wearing an outdoor coat, but I could see the new uniform underneath.

  “Hey, Steve.”

  “Morning, Ms. Farrell.”

  In the light of the portico, I could see the uniforms were just good quality, regular clothes with patch pockets and the look of hard-wearing material. His coat was part of it, and it had a new logo. Steve brushed the snow off when he saw me looking.

  Gayle Security, it said. And underneath that, Part of the Kingslund Group.

  I burst out laughing. She wasn’t ever going to miss an opportunity. And proved time and again, that when she did move, she moved decisively. On all fronts.

  “Neat, huh?” he said.

  “Yeah, really neat.” But we were talking about something a bit different.

  Steve had something else to say. He banged the toes of his boots on the ground to clear the snow and stalled. “Not really my position to speak, Ms. Farrell, but I know all of us here,” he jerked his head to indicate the rest of the guards, “all of us really appreciate the package Ms. Kingslund put in for Zimmerman’s and Reynolds’ families. Really appreciate it.”

  I nodded. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “I’ll make sure she knows.”

  Back inside, Manassah had returned to calmness. Not the silence of last night; I could hear Carmen was in the kitchen.

  I went back into the living room and sat on the sofa, running a disbelieving hand over the cushions.

  Maybe this really could work. However I did it, I’d get Alex back. I’d build my House around me and I’d build bridges with Mom, whatever it took. If I could do that, I could face anything. Sure, I’d come out a bit different, but I’d fix the things I could and live with the rest.

  I’d deal with Skylur and Naryn. I’d deal with Felix.

  And as for the Nagas, the Matlal and the rogue?

  We had them. The Nagas’ mugshots would all be on FBI wanted posters soon. Between the pack and the bounty hunters, we’d track down the Matlal Athanate. We’d nail the rogue with science as soon as Melissa’s DNA machine started spitting out the numbers or whatever it did.

  With a sigh, I put the coffee down and turned on the TacNet and my cell. Time to stop being goofy and get back into the real world. Alex first.

  But the TacNet squealed with an emergency contact.

  “Bian? Talk to me.”

  What had happened while I was off?

  “Amber, are you okay? Tullah was upset—”

  “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just over-exerted, like you said. Why the emergency call?”

  “Do you know what’s happening with the pack?”

  “No. What?” Was this a problem I’d caused? Please, no.

  “They’ve gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “They signed off half an hour ago, and I can’t get any of them on the comms. I spoke to Verano and Gray, so it’s not equipment. It’s not a major problem for the search—I’ve just closed it down because of the weather. But I don’t like them bailing out without giving us a reason. If they’re going to work with us, we have to be able to count on them.”

  “Okay, I’ll check it out.”

  “Talk to me when you know.”

  I ended the call and flicked the messages on my cell to find anything from Alex. Nothing.

  I called his cell number. Then his work number. Then Olivia. Then Felix. I got voicemails.

  Shit.

  This wasn’t anything to do with Alex and me. There was something big going on. Larsen? Was he the rogue? Why hadn’t they just told me that?

  I slung on my HK holster and Liu’s borrowed ski jacket.

  Where to go?

  I didn’t want to head out all the way to Coykuti, especially if the snow was predicted to get worse. Bitter Hooks, where the pack ran? Just as bad. Alex’s house was a couple of minutes away, but I doubted I’d find anything there.

  I lifted my cell to call Tullah and saw the top message I’d flicked past, looking for one from Alex. It was from Melissa. Only half an hour old.

  Got it. Come to Maynes on Ridou Road.

  Damn it. She was supposed to be next door, safe.

  What the hell had got her out? What was ‘it’ that she’d got?

  I didn’t like this.

  Chapter 59

  I couldn’t get through to Melissa, and I’d had to find Ridou Road on the internet. It was a dead end, a short, curved road tucked into the shadow of the huge cloverleaf interchange made by Colfax and I25.

  The whole thing felt wrong.

  I pulled off on the other side of the cloverleaf, and left the Hill Bitch in one of the Mile High Stadium’s overflow parking lots. From there I trotted around until I could just about make out Ridou Road snaking beneath the overpass columns. I checked the HK was snug and safe under my jacket and called José. I got lucky; he was in early.

  “I’m hating this,” I said, after explaining the bare bones. “She’s not answering. Can you trace where she last used her cell?”

  I could hear him swearing under his breath at the computer system.

  “Damn,” he said eventually. “Cell’s turned off, but the text was sent from down near where you are.”

  From where I stood, I could see beneath the overpasses across the width of the interchange. The tail end of Ridou had a couple of shabby businesses running out of squat cinder block buildings. Graffiti writhed across the sides of their walls like bizarre jungle vegetation. Further away, the road took a bend around an auto scrap yard; a high chain link fence sectioned it off, with stubby towers made of crashed cars blocking a clear view of anything beyond. There were at least two more buildings there, presumably one of them Mayne’s, whatever that was. Not far beyond lay the edge of the University campus.

  A few cars and trucks were parked along the road. Most of them were no more than one short step better than the wrecks in the compound. I couldn’t see anyone moving around.

  It practically shrieked trap. Question was, whose?

  “Hold on there,” José said. “I’ll send Edmunds to you with a SWAT team. I’m going to check her apartment. There was a call from there earlier.”

  While
my cell had been turned off. I swore quietly.

  He ended the call and I went back to looking.

  No roads passed under the interchange between the campus and Ridou, but an unprotected railroad track curved through. I walked along it till I was under the overpass and had a better view.

  I tried to put my worry about Melissa aside. If she was being held here, I’d find her, but I needed to stay alive and free.

  So, if I wanted to set up an ambush here, what would I do?

  What were the parameters?

  Whoever this was, they’d want to keep it quiet and quick.

  For a kill, a sniper. Very efficient and a small footprint. But there were no vantage points from this end of Ridou. The cinder block buildings were single-story and in clear sight. No sniper in his right mind would climb up and trust a wobbling, rusting pile of scrap metal from the compound.

  For a capture, a trap in the building itself. That needed a bigger team, more planning. They had to keep it out of sight and it would be difficult to escape. I was not going into Mayne’s without backup.

  For either a kill or a capture, lookouts. And if it were me, I wouldn’t make any assumption which way the target would approach.

  Crap.

  I stopped concentrating on one direction and took a slow walk around the overpass pillar.

  Two people walking across the campus parking lot, heading this way. Maybe nothing, maybe the one was talking to a friend on a cellphone. Maybe not.

  Two more, glimpsed through the interchange, coming from the other way.

  I walked away from them, away from Ridou, towards the central tangle of the overpasses.

  They started to jog and I went to flat out sprint, crossing the railroad track and hurdling the short fences.

  Shit. How many of them, and where were they?

  A trap in Mayne’s. Sweepers on all approaches. Twenty Nagas? It’d have to be that many. They’d be spread out around the intersection. I was heading right into the middle of them, but at least I wasn’t where they’d prepared something.