Black and Blue oa-2

by Gena Showalter

  Blue stiffened. “There’s no room for error in this. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that there’s so much evidence pointing to him, yet he’s been so careful to hide his tracks in the past?” He paused to ponder, as if the thoughts were only now coming to him. “This could be a setup, or a misdirection. We—”

  “No setup, no misdirection. I saw him there, at the house,” Michael said. “I woke up, and saw all three of you on the ground, motionless. I fought my way free of the debris and stumbled toward you. Then I heard voices and wasn’t sure if they belonged to friend or foe. I hid under the rubble, intending to find out and strike if necessary—I still had a gun on me—and got a look at Star and another male, but passed out before I could do anything about it.”

  A gleam of determination and hate darkened Blue’s eyes. “Okay, then.”

  Definite target in sight now.

  “He’s gotten cocky, I guess,” Michael said. “He messed up. It happens.”

  Yes, it did.

  “What was his motive?” Blue asked.

  “That,” Michael replied, “I’m not sure about.”

  “Why don’t we snatch Mr. Star, torture him for answers, and then kill him?” Evie suggested.

  “Snatching him will be a problem,” Michael said. “He’s too well guarded. And if we failed and he retaliated . . . No, we’ll have better luck with stealth.”

  She could do stealth. “He has two kids. Tyson and Tiffany. We can abduct one or both and offer a trade.” That was stealth, right?

  Michael shook his head. “I’ve done business with him. He isn’t the type to cave to demands, even to save the lives of his children. He’s the kind to hurt John to prove a point.”

  Blue lifted his head, his determination undaunted. “Do you have eyes and ears on him?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Michael said with a sigh. “That’s why I need you to go public, Blue. I have a plan.”

  “Wait,” Evie said.

  Michael held up one hand for silence. “I don’t think Star knows you work for me, Blue,” he continued. “I’ve taken down several of his guards in the past few days, and your name has never been mentioned. If I’m wrong, and he does, you’ll find out pretty quick.”

  Meaning, he would be bait. “Are you sure that’s the wisest course of action?”

  “Yes,” Blue said. “And I’m fine with that.”

  “Well, I don’t agree,” she replied.

  He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I’m still going to do it.”

  “Michael,” she said.

  “Danger is part of the business,” her father said. Supporting his boy. As always. Gaze on Blue, he added, “As soon as the world knows you’re in town, arrange an accidental meeting with the daughter. Star no longer goes out in public. He stays in his country estate, always surrounded by armed men, both human and otherworlder. Tiffany might be your ticket to a face-to-face with Daddy dearest.”

  Blue nodded. “Consider it done.”

  “Before we go that route,” Evie said, unsure why her body was now so tense, “we should break into that country estate and have a look around, plant a few bugs. We can get in and out without anyone realizing. B and E isn’t the same as trying to haul a body out, yeah.”

  Her father met her stare, nodded. “All right. Break in. Snatch Star if you’ve got a green light. But don’t you dare get caught. Afterward, if Star isn’t in custody, you’ll move forward with my plan.”

  A concession. She took it gratefully. “What about you?”

  “I can’t go public yet. I’m not strong enough to defend myself from a full-on attack.”

  “We can protect—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off. “I have something else in mind. I want you to take over Black Industries, sunbeam. That way you can set up a preseason exhibition game between the Invaders and Strikers to honor my precious memory. And that way you have a legitimate reason to contact Tyson Star to rent out the roof of the Star Light Hotel for a victory celebration.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Blue spoke up. “I’ll have the Star kids covered with Tiffany.”

  The competitive spirit she’d once hated peeked from the shadows, and Evie smirked at him. “Two is better than one.”

  “No,” Blue said again, with more force this time.

  “Yee-ess,” she replied in a singsong.

  Michael looked from one to the other and frowned. “It’s your turn now. How did you two hook up?”

  Hook up. A poor choice of words. Her cheeks flamed.

  Blue gave nothing away. “After the explosion, Evie was the only person I could trust,” he said, his tone just as bland. “I snuck into her house and she patched me up. It was as simple as that.”

  Smiling, Michael reached out to ruffle her hair, just as she’d always wanted him to do to her when she was a child. “Thank you for taking care of my boy.”

  His boy.

  And there was the jealousy she used to feel, a companion to the competitiveness; she tamped down both. Michael loved his “boys,” yes, but that didn’t preclude his loving Evie, too.

  One day she would gather the courage to ask him why he’d left her in England.

  Although . . . if he’d taken her away from Claire, she would have hated him. So maybe he’d actually done her a service.

  “Now, what are we going to do about taking care of my girl?” Michael said. “The car chase has me spooked.”

  “I’ve already had to move in,” Blue said. “We planned to keep it secret anyway, so my coming back to life and going after Tiffany won’t change anything. No one will know I’m there, and yet I’ll still be able to protect her. It’s a win-win.”

  Evie shook her head. “I was okay with a move-in when you were dead to the world, but not now. People will be watching you. Sneaking over will be difficult. You will be caught. So, no. You won’t be staying. You’ll be moving out. I won’t be the girl responsible for your newest breakup.”

  Too late.

  Oh, yeah.

  I’m a horrible person.

  She couldn’t even fall back on an I’m-going-to-leave-him-alone-from-now-on cushion. She had decided to sleep with him.

  And that right there was another reason playing house with him was no longer an option.

  “We won’t try to keep my presence a secret, then.”

  “I won’t be the girl you cheat on with Tiffany,” she retorted.

  “She’s right,” Michael said, his tone just as sharp.

  Blue raised his chin. “I don’t care what the world thinks. I’m ending things with Pagan the moment I go public.” His gaze bore into Evie. “But if you want everyone to think Tiffany is the reason for the breakup, rather than my move-in with you, and that I’m seeing you behind her back, that can be arranged.”

  “No. I don’t want that.” How big of a douche would she be, letting another woman take the heat for her actions? Besides, she didn’t want him with Tiffany at all. Not even in the mind of others.

  Gah. She was already acting like a live-in girlfriend.

  His gaze never strayed from her. “I’m spending the evenings in your home one way or the other, princess. Pick the other and I’ll make sure you regret it.” He turned his attention to Michael. “I’ll be sleeping in a guest room. Right now I’m the only person you can trust with her safety.”

  Michael scrubbed a hand over his weary features. “Now he’s the one who’s right, sunbeam.”

  What!

  “Before you protest,” her father added, then sighed, and it was clear he was fading fast, his eyelids drooping, his shoulders pulling in, “don’t protest. If anything happened to you . . .”

  She squeezed his hand, his concern washing away her next objection. “Fine. Blue can stay at my house, but first I need you to tell me you know I’m well able to take care of myself.”

  His smile was sad. “I do. I’ve always known. But one thing you have failed to learn is that it never hurts to have backup.”

  Eleven

 
B LUE RESTED FOR A few hours but got up early to shower and clean the dye out of his hair. He threw away the contacts and removed all of the piercings, happy to be Bad Boy Chic again. He still had a line of scar tissue, but it would be gone in another day or two.

  If Evie asked, he’d give himself a new one.

  He dressed in a black T-shirt and slacks. Spares of Michael’s. Blue hadn’t expected to stay the night, so he hadn’t brought any extras. He headed to the kitchen.

  Evie had beaten him there.

  She leaned against the counter, sipping at a steaming mug of coffee. The sight of her arrested him. She had such long lashes. And were those faint little smudges on her nose freckles?

  How had he never noticed them before?

  She puckered her lips to blow on the coffee, both top and bottom red and deliciously swollen, as if she’d nibbled on them all through the night.

  She, too, had found the necessary supplies to return her hair to its normal dark luster, the wavy locks flowing freely. She’d ditched the silicone bra, her breasts once again a perfect teacup shape.

  Creeper! Stop eyeing her like you want to eat her.

  Mmm . . . I want to eat her.

  Cursing, he bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He hated challenges, he decided. Because he wanted Evie, desperately, and her parentage was one challenge he could never overcome.

  If she were anyone other than Michael’s daughter, Blue would carry her to bed. Here. Now. But she was his daughter, so he couldn’t.

  Gotta have sex soon. His body couldn’t take much more frustration without causing a worldwide power surge.

  And yet, the thought of being with anyone else left him . . . hollow.

  No one else would taste as good. Or feel as soft and warm. No one else would give back as good as she got and take whatever she wanted. No one else would satisfy him.

  “Michael’s still sleeping,” she said, breaking the silence.

  Perfect. No way Blue would be able to hide the raging party in his pants.

  “I checked him over. His vitals are stable.”

  “He’ll be in prime shape before you know it.” He confiscated the mug from her and drank before she could protest. “Listen, I’m going to arm up and head out. I want to case Star’s house before I go in.”

  “Before you go in? I think you mean we.”

  Hardly. But he had to tread carefully here. With Evie, he couldn’t use old faithful: It’s too dangerous, sugar dumpling, so let the big, bad man go and save the day. She would empty out his liver and fill it with rocks.

  “Honestly, buttercup?” he said. “No matter how skilled you are, you’ll just get in my way. To get in and out undetected, I’ll have to move at a speed you won’t ever be able to match.”

  Her lips thinned as she peered over at him. He held her stare without flinching—and, somehow, without grinning. He should be frightened rather than amused. If anyone could kill him and bury the evidence, it was this woman. But then, he was only just beginning to realize how much he liked the strong, fierce firecracker and her diabolical mind.

  “I need you here,” he added, “at the computer, watching my back.” Literally. He would have a night-vision camera attached to the back collar of his shirt, streaming live feed. “It’s a job John and Solo have done many times in the past, not something meant to keep the little woman home safe. I promise.”

  Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re lying.”

  “We don’t lie to each other, baby doll. Remember?”

  The fight drained out of her, and she nodded. “All right. But you better come back free of injuries, or I will slice off your favorite body part, name it something filthy and wrong, and sell it to the highest bidder.”

  Again he wanted to grin. With those words, he realized Evie Black didn’t just desire him with the same fervency he desired her—she also liked him as much as he liked her. Something he’d noticed: she only threatened people she cared about.

  I’m in trouble with this one, aren’t I?

  * * *

  As the sun set on the horizon, shadows began to thicken. Blue was able to place ten small cameras on the perimeter of Star’s country home, a huge compound surrounded by an iron gate, armed guards, and a forest of fake green trees.

  “Done with the outside,” he whispered. He was roughly thirty yards from the mansion, hidden by a massive trunk. Not to mention the fact that his clothing had tiny microchips woven throughout, causing the fabric to blend with his surroundings every time he moved.

  “I’ve disabled the laser sensors,” Evie said through the piece in his ear. “Avoid the middle of the gate and you should be fine.”

  “ ‘Should’?”

  “Let’s find out together.”

  Funny. “I’m about to go in.”

  “Your six is clear.”

  “All right. I’m moving in.” For protection, he had a pyre-gun, an image cloak, and a few daggers. For surveillance, he had a single sheet of microbugs—twenty-five peel-and-stick tabs to place throughout the home. “Unless you see something, I need you to be quiet from now on.” Her sexy voice was a distraction he couldn’t afford.

  “Roger that.”

  Deep breath in . . . hold . . . hold . . . As he released it, he surged forward, out from the shade and into the waning sunlight, moving at such a swift pace the guards would only register the slightest blur. He climbed the gate. As he placed a bug on the north, east, south, and west walls, he searched for the best entrance into the home. No one shot at him. No one cried out a warning.

  “See something. Three giggling women in lingerie just snaked a corner behind you,” Evie said, her voice a caress in his ears. “Please tell me you didn’t accidentally stumble into a harem . . . oops. Shutting up now.”

  Can’t laugh. A guard exited a side door. There. He slipped inside, unnoticed, as the metal began to close, and found himself in . . . a break room. Eight men. All armed. Some playing cards, some watching monitors that displayed the house grounds. He couldn’t slow; he would give himself away. He had to keep going, even though he didn’t know the layout.

  When he reached a hallway with only one guard, he seized the opportunity. Finally slowing . . . stopping, Blue placed a hand over the male’s nose and mouth, and pinched his carotid, cutting off both of his airways. It wasn’t long before the guy sagged in his arms, a deadweight. He dragged the guy into a nearby storage closet.

  “While we’ve got a moment, let’s revisit the lingerie,” he whispered to Evie. “You ever wear any?” Working as swiftly as possible, he switched off the chips in his clothing and held the image cloak—a small black band with a camera in the center—at the top of the guard’s head and scanned all the way to his feet.

  “Actually, I prefer to go commando,” she admitted.

  He moaned. How was he supposed to keep his hands off her now?

  Michael, that’s how.

  But Michael would understand if he caved. Surely.

  As soon as the guard’s identity registered, Blue snapped the band around his own neck, and the guard’s hologram was cast, front and back, shielding his identity. “Here goes. Radio silence again.”

  Blue stepped into the hall and walked as if he were simply out on patrol. He reached around every door and, without pausing, placed a bug in . . . a sitting room . . . a bedroom . . . another bedroom . . . He marched downstairs, took a corner. People buzzed around in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal. He anchored another bug.

  In a perfect world, he would find John locked in a room. Or down here, in a cell. And Solo would burst through the entrance to help him. Together, they would free John.

  In a less-than-perfect world, Blue would find something to point him to their locations.

  In a crappy shithole of a world, he would find nothing.

  He was in a crappy shithole.

  He’d been so hopeful. Frustration poked at his power, and that power expanded inside him until his skin felt taut, ready to rip apart at the seams.


  Keep it together. One last room to bug. The most important.

  Blue searched until he found Star’s office. The doors were closed and locked, and he would bet Star was inside, working. He could sneak inside and try to use voice compulsion, forcing Star to lead him out to safety and then to tell him everything he wanted to know. But there were two flaws in that plan. One, guards would come gunning for him and he couldn’t hold them all off at once without emptying himself. And if he emptied himself, he couldn’t carry Star away—or save John and Solo, if they were nearby. Two, half the population was immune to the compulsion. Star could be one of the immune.

  “You’ve got two males coming in hot,” Evie announced.

  Great.

  “Marco,” a deep voice said.

  Blue placed the last bug on the office door. No way could he get in without blowing his cover. He turned. As promised, two males were barreling toward him, both frowning.

  “Marco. What are you doing down here?”

  “I think you’re Marco,” Evie prompted.

  Yeah. Probably. But Blue couldn’t say a single word to the guys—he wouldn’t have Marco’s voice. That meant he had to go with plan B.

  He released a small ring of power. Not enough to render Blue completely useless afterward, but enough to weaken him as he disabled the guards. The two grunted and jerked before slumping to the floor.

  He considered the consequences worth the reward.

  “Nice,” Evie said, “but you better get out of there before they’re found and an alarm is tripped.”

  Blue kicked into high gear—which wasn’t as high as it had been before—propelling outside. He raced across the lawn . . . no alarm . . . he climbed the iron gate . . . no alarm . . .

  He jumped into his waiting car and sped down the street, constantly glancing at the rearview mirror to see if he was being followed.

  “How long before you’re back at the boathouse?” Evie asked.

  He thought he heard the words she didn’t say: How long before you’re safe?

  “Missing me already, princess? How sweet.”

  “Blue! I’m being serious.”

  How adorable was the pout in her voice?