“She won’t,” Blue called.
Was he confident in Evie’s charm, or just determined to force a friendship if necessary?
Vika urged her to the couch. Once they’d settled, she placed Evie’s hand on the bulge in her belly. “I shouldn’t be this big, but Solo tells me his race has accelerated gestation. Do you feel my sweet baby boy?”
“No.” A baby, she thought. A family. Something she hadn’t ever wanted for herself. Had that changed?
She thought for a minute, shrugged. Maybe. Not with Blue, though. She’d told him that he wasn’t a forever kind of guy, that a case would come along and he’d have to do what he did best, and he hadn’t denied it. But maybe later, one day in the future, she could start a family with a doctor at the hospital.
Yeah. Okay. The idea didn’t exactly repel her.
Except . . . it was Blue her mind conjured when she thought of lying in bed with a man, his hand on her swollen belly, and little white-haired, lavender-eyed half Arcadians she saw toddling around her house.
Concentrating, she applied a little more pressure. But . . . nothing. “No,” she said again, disappointed. “I think he went into hiding the moment he heard my voice.”
“Are you taking a nap, angel?” Vika asked her belly. “Mommy loves you, oh, yes she does.”
Evie scanned the room, wondering what the guys thought about the girl’s baby talk. Michael and Solo were deep in conversation, though Solo, who sat on Vika’s other side, had his arm draped around her to massage the back of her neck.
Blue was staring at Evie with a strange look on his face.
“What?” she mouthed.
He shook his head, refusing to answer.
Confusing man.
The motion caught Michael’s attention. “What was that, son?”
Without missing a beat, Blue said, “Solo, I believe you had some answers for me.”
“Right.” The otherworlder never stopped ministering to his wife. “By the time I reached New Chicago, I knew Michael was alive but playing dead. He’d paid a visit to Vika before I was able to find my way back to earth. What I didn’t know was your location, Blue. I wanted you to be alive, but . . .” He cleared his throat. “That AIR agent, Dallas Gutierrez, had a friend trapped in the circus with me. I knew he was looking into Star, and I knew Star had been at the explosion site. I started following Dallas, hoping he’d make an arrest and I could strike. Then I saw him at Evie’s, saw Evie drive to your house, and I began to suspect the two of you were working together. Then you went public, Blue, and I knew I’d been right. Then I decided to let things ride because I’d drawn AIR’s notice, and they were coming in strong. I didn’t want to put you on their radar.”
“He took care of that himself when he smashed Dallas’s nuts beneath his boot,” Evie said. “So is AIR no longer after you, Solo?”
“No. Last night Dallas tracked me down and gave me all the info he’d been able to put together on Star. Apparently, Star’s planning to host some big fashion exhibit for his daughter’s newest line. Golden Sunrise is what they’re calling it.”
Golden. Like John.
“When?” Blue demanded, his fury evident in every bulging muscle.
“Two weeks.”
The color drained from his cheeks. “They’ve already done it, then. They’ve already skinned him.”
Grim, Solo said, “Yeah. I figure she’s making the clothes now.”
Oh, John, no. According to Tiffany, two weeks was when he’d been scheduled for skinning. Not the actual show. The Stars had moved up their timeline.
Blue’s power suddenly electrified the air, and furniture lifted off the floor and hovered. Vika gasped, scrambling closer to her husband.
“Blue,” Solo and Michael said in unison, both using soft, soothing tones.
“Calm down,” Michael added.
Words weren’t going to do the job. Last time she’d used her body, and both she and Blue left the encounter satisfied—and alive. With an audience, that wasn’t exactly an option. So Evie hopped to the floor, closed the distance, and slapped him. Hard.
Solo commanded her to back off.
Michael held out his hand to stop her from doing it again. “That’s not how you handle him, sunbeam.”
She crossed her arms over her middle. “You got anything to say to me, blueberry?”
He glared over at her as he rubbed his jaw—and, what do you know, the furniture settled back into place. “What was that for?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know. Now do yourself a favor and focus,” she said, cruel to be kind. For sure this time. “I know you’re angry, but break down on your own time. Your friend needs you to keep it together.”
At first he gave no reaction. Then he nodded stiffly and said, “No probs.”
Before she could stop it, a huge smile spread across her face. “Good. That’s, like, totes amazeballs.”
Blue actually laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Michael asked. “And why are you talking like that?”
“Nothing,” they muttered in unison.
“And just because,” she added.
She turned away before she made a (bigger) fool of herself and reclaimed her spot on the couch. Vika watched her with awe, Michael and Solo with suspicion.
Her heart drummed in her chest. Michael was going to be more ticked than she’d assumed, she realized. And he was going to blame Blue.
Blimey. She was going to be the dumb hobag stuck between an old rock and a very sexy hard place, wasn’t she? And one day Blue would hate her for it—and he’d have every right!
Should have resisted him.
But now that the damage is done . . . there’s no reason not to forge full pleasure ahead.
“Now, then.” She cleared her throat. “We know Tiffany works from home. We also know that home has guards stationed at her door 25-8. We assumed that was because Star was determined to protect his daughter, but what if the men are there to protect the pelt?”
“I can sneak in,” Blue said. “Steal it.”
“There might not be any need,” Evie replied. “If she attends the party, you can compel an invitation to her house. You wanted to leave with her anyway. And that way she’ll make the guards wait outside as well as turn off any alarm she has, giving you free rein and an entire night to search unimpeded.”
Blue scrubbed a hand over his jaw, his gaze locked on her. Expecting her to balk at the thought of him alone with the girl? Evie hadn’t lied. She trusted him. His honor wasn’t readily apparent at first glance, but it was there.
“All right,” he finally said. “But if she doesn’t attend, I’m going in after the party.”
Where was his earlier confidence that Tiffany wouldn’t miss out on a date with him? “Deal.” And meanwhile Evie would go after Tyson Star with everything she had—charm, drugs, whatever was necessary—and try to get her own invitation. If he was holding John, he would suffer and beg for death before she finally ended him.
By the time this was over, all of the Stars would be dead.
No mercy.
“Remember Tyrese Cooper?” Michael said, switching gears. “I finally got him to detox. He’s married, but he was keeping a mistress on the side. The mistress got pregnant and he served the wife with divorce papers. A few weeks later, the mistress came up missing. Then, a few days ago, pictures were sent to Mr. Cooper. In them, the mistress was in bed with different men. A lot of different men. To the untrained eye, she probably looked like she was enjoying herself, but there were signs she had been drugged and bound.”
Possibly an abduction. Then . . . punishment? For her? Or Mr. Cooper? Or, hell, both?
“That’s unconscionable,” Vika said, her chin trembling.
The symbol of revenge . . . Had Mr. Cooper’s wife arranged for the mistress to be hurt and the husband to bear witness? She was the only one with motive. But if so, she must have paid Star to take care of the revenge for her. That was the only reason Evie could think o
f for the male’s involvement.
It was possible Star had been paid to take care of every victim. Even Michael.
“What do you know about the wife?” Blue asked.
“Only that I want one of you to chat with her when we finish up here.”
“I’ll do it,” Solo said. “Fear makes people talk, and females tend to fear me.”
“I think it’s safe to say Star is in the revenge-getting business.” Michael drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Considering we were looking at seventeen victims before the explosion, we’re now dealing with seventeen accomplices. Someone the victims knew must have contacted Star and paid him to do their dirty work.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Evie said. Great minds and all that.
Patting yourself on the back again? Ugh.
“All seventeen have managed to keep the dealings a secret,” Solo pointed out. “No one’s bragged. Do you know how rare that is?”
Yes, she mentally grumbled. But a little vanity wasn’t such a terrible thing—when it was deserved.
“Probably out of terror,” Blue replied. “They’ve seen what Star can do and don’t want the same fate to befall them.”
Evie jumped in, saying, “Plus they don’t want to implicate themselves in a crime.”
Blue smiled at her.
She smiled back.
Michael sucked in a breath, and they looked away from each other.
“So, who wanted you dead?” Blue asked her father. “Who would pay big bucks to have you killed?”
Michael didn’t have to think it over. “We know Monica Gains, my former assistant, worked with Star, and I can only guess it’s because she told me one of her kids was mine. I insisted on a DNA test. When she refused, I gave her the option of quitting or being fired. She quit.”
“Wait. How many people have you slept with?” Evie asked. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to barf up my smoothie. If she quit, she no longer had access to your home. How did she set the bomb?”
“She was a familiar face, and I made the mistake of telling no one about her lies. My new assistant would have let her in without thinking twice.”
Everything was beginning to come together. A woman looking for fast cash who’d once had access to the files Michael kept on the criminals he pursued. A woman who would have known just how to tempt a man like Gregory Star. A woman looking to hurt the man who’d rejected her.
“Well,” Evie said. “What’s our next move? Do we try to finesse information out of the Star children as planned?”
“Yes. But we take it to the next level. We inject them both with isotope trackers,” Blue said. “That way we’ll know where they go, when they go. Maybe they’ll lead us straight to John.”
Okay. That was a seriously genius move. Embarrassed I didn’t think of it myself. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” The answer hit her in an instant. It wasn’t standard procedure, and it was highly illegal.
But they weren’t playing by the rules, were they.
“Never mind,” she muttered.
Once in the bloodstream, the isotope would send out a traceable signal for the next six months. All that was needed was a computer and the right code.
Michael wanted to inject Evie when she first came to work for him, but she refused. Criminals could hack into the tracking stream and find her at any time. No, thanks.
“It’ll take me a few hours to get the vials,” Michael said.
“The party starts in a few hours,” Evie reminded him. “Can you do better?”
“You don’t rush quality tracers, princess. Besides, I don’t mind being fashionably late,” Blue said, his gaze once again locked on her, making her shiver. “After all, the party won’t really start until I get there. I’m the belle of the ball.”
I guess that makes me Prince Charming.
Twenty
E VIE STOOD AT THE entrance to the Star Light Hotel roof, greeting guests as they arrived for the party. Behind her, the moon was high and golden, a million stars twinkling from a sea of black velvet. There was no wind, the temperature warm and perfect.
Mother Nature hadn’t wanted to ruin Blue’s big night, she supposed.
Also behind her, past a half wall of mirrors, was a summer oasis. A large swimming pool in the shape of the number eight consumed half the space. Palm trees stretched toward the sky. A buffet table piled high with rare delicacies drew the biggest crowd.
Evie wore a glittery silver sundress with a black bathing suit underneath. Five-inch hooker heels took her from maybe-I’ll-take-a-dip to I’m-already-soaking. Most of the invited guests had already arrived. The team, their families and friends. Season ticket holders.
Blue wasn’t here. Did he have the tracers?
Tyson and Tiffany Star hadn’t arrived, either.
The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival of another guest. She held her breath, hopeful. The doors slid open and she sighed with disappointment. And dread.
“Evie Black.” Dallas Gutierrez stepped forward and grinned a seducer’s grin. “You look stunning.”
“I know. But thanks.” He wore a perfectly tailored suit in the traditional black and white, his dark hair slicked back, his blue eyes bright. “A party crasher so soon. No wonder you didn’t know the dress code.”
“Like the ladies could really handle me in my swimmies.” Leaning forward, as if sharing a secret, he said, “Did you notice? No man boobs.”
She tried not to smile. Failed.
“By the way, you’re welcome.”
“For what?” she asked, arching a brow.
“My presence.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s not a crasher, he’s one of my plus twos.” An elegant woman stepped up beside him. She had honey-colored hair and a beautiful face usually only seen in magazines. She wore a short red dress that displayed a belly rounded by her pregnancy.
“Noelle Tremain,” Evie acknowledged.
“None other.”
Blue spent a year of his life with this exquisite, elegant woman. But he never shared his true self with her, and Evie suddenly wondered why. “Congratulations on your recent marriage.”
“Thank you. I felt really strongly that it was time I took a step up.”
Meaning her husband was better than Blue?
Evie masked a scowl. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Me,” a gruff voice replied. A man with dark hair, green eyes, and the rough features of someone who knew his way around a bloody battlefield wrapped a gloved arm around Noelle’s waist.
Why gloves?
“Hector Dean, meet Evangeline Black.” To Evie, she said, “Dallas tells me we have a mutual frenemy.”
Evie glared at Dallas. Yes, he’d had permission to spill the gory details about Blue, but he shouldn’t have acted on it.
“Whoa. Cool down now, Miss Black, and keep your hands out of your wizard bag. I don’t want to know if you’ve got another magic compact in there. Blue wanted her to know,” he said, palms up.
“If that’s so,” Noelle interjected, “why did you tell me Blue was going to kill you for being the messenger, and I needed to protect you?”
Dallas threw his arms up. “Because that’s also true. Hector, control your woman before she gets me killed.”
“Don’t think I will,” Hector said.
Noelle beamed at him. “Anyway.” She took Evie’s hand, squeezed. “If you ever want to compare notes, I’ll make myself available.”
The trio sailed past her without another word. Good thing, too. Another ding sounded, and out stepped Blue. As usual, Evie’s breath snagged in her throat. He looked edible—and it had been too long since she’d had a taste, feeding her addiction.
He sported a simple white tee that hugged his heavy biceps and rippled chest, and a pair of swim trunks that could have doubled as golf shorts. Casual and ready to play, but also ready for business.
His gaze swept over her and heated. Then his
power followed the same trail, and it was as though his hands caressed her, causing her nipples to harden and her belly to quiver.
Tonight, after he returned from Tiffany’s and she returned from Tyson’s—fingers crossed—she would sneak into his room. If he didn’t sneak into hers.
“Evangeline, wow . . .” Another full-body once-over, his eyes lingering on all the places he liked to touch. He clasped her hand and kissed her knuckles, and she could only gasp at the heady sense of pleasure that flooded her. “You look gorge.”
Can’t laugh. “Thank you,” she said with a regal nod. “If I didn’t know you were abbreviating the word ‘gorgeous,’ I would think you were telling me I look like a ravine.”
“Gorge and smart.” His voice lowered. “The things I want to do to you . . .”
Can’t fall into his arms. “Oh, yeah?”
He nodded—and then he snatched her purse and dug inside. “A wad of Chinese money. A handful of zip ties. Taco Bell sauce packets. An Immortals After Dark friendship bracelet. Six safety pins. A mini-Taze. And now a pen.” He held a plain-looking ink pen in the light and pressed the end.
It wasn’t a pen, she realized. A needle emerged rather than a ballpoint. In the belly was the isotope tracker.
“Perfect for my collection,” she said.
Lavender eyes narrowed with determination, surprising her. “I thought you’d like it.” He took her hand, much as he’d done the first time they’d met, and kissed her knuckles. “Forgive me, but . . .”
A sharp sting in her palm.
She frowned and jerked away from him. A tiny bead of blood welled just beneath her index finger—a needle puncture?
His expression was hard and intractable.
She lowered her gaze, saw last year’s NOFL Super Bowl ring glinting from his hand. He’d never worn it before.
“What did you do?” she demanded quietly.
“What I had to do to keep you safe. You’re welcome.”
“Blue—”
The elevator dinged, saving her from having to form a reply—it would have been a death threat, no question. Because if she had to guess, she’d say he’d just used the isotope tracker on her.
He handed her the bag, expression cleared of all emotion. Aaannnd, out stepped—
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