“Night.”
Chapter Eleven
A sheet was attempting to strangle her. Blair blinked her gritty eyes and rolled onto her back.
In the middle of the night, she’d untangled herself from MacKade and crept out of his bed. Shit. She tossed an arm over her face to block the sunlight pouring in the guestroom window. Her body was still throbbing with desire—hot and strong—and her skin felt tight and sensitive.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Ignore it.
Instantly, she thought about it. MacKade’s long, thick cock. Him coming all over her ass. Her own long, drawn-out orgasm, and the sounds she’d made as she’d come.
Shit.
She pushed out of the bed, straightening the straps of her tank. Her bandaged shoulder throbbed and she knew she’d need some painkillers. After a deep breath, she visited the bathroom, popped some pills, then headed out into the living room.
She came to a halt. MacKade was in the kitchen wearing only a pair of jeans. They were unbuttoned and he was shirtless. Of course, he looked freaking gorgeous.
All that sleek skin that she wanted to touch and bite. In the daylight, she noticed something that she’d missed earlier. There was a round, puckered bullet scar on his back.
He turned and spotted her. His lips quirked. “Morning. Sleep well after you snuck off?”
She forced her feet to move. “Not particularly.”
He raised a brow. “That makes two of us.”
She paused, leaning against his island. “Looks like you took a bullet at some stage.”
He nodded. “When I was a young, newly minted officer and didn’t move fast enough. Actually, I was cocky and thought the gangbanger would actually put the gun down when I asked him to.”
Blair laughed. “A criminal brandishing a weapon who didn’t listen to the cops. Funny.”
He moved suddenly, stalking toward her. She stiffened.
Luke stopped with just inches between their bodies. He cupped her cheek, then dropped his head and kissed her. She tried to pull back for about a microsecond… Hell. She leaned into him, her tongue sliding along his.
When he stepped back, her blood was pumping thickly. He studied her, then tugged on her hair.
Way to ignore him, Mason. Pretty sure he noticed your tongue down his throat.
“I made you some breakfast.” He nodded to a plate on the island.
Blair saw a bagel topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon. Nice. “I’m starving.”
“I’m surprised,” he said dryly.
She dove in. “Plan for the day?”
“I want to stop by the hospital and check on Baxter. Then I need to see about the translation of the Japanese script from Kazan’s house, and see if my team identified the man who attacked Baxter.”
She nodded. She was pretty keen to see what all the Japanese text was about as well. She felt like they had so many dangling leads, but none that were tying up and leading them anywhere solid. Somewhere that might lead them to the sword.
Luke’s doorbell rang. He lifted his head, his gaze narrowing.
They both reached for their weapons. Of course, Blair’s was in her room, but MacKade had his tucked into the back of his jeans. As they moved toward the door, Blair licked the last of the cream cheese off her fingers.
He glanced out the window and then straightened, closing his eyes. He tucked his gun away. “It’s my neighbor.”
Blair straightened her tank just as Luke opened the door.
A pretty woman stood on his doorstep with a neat swing of strawberry-blonde hair. She was holding a plate of what looked like freshly baked muffins.
“Oh.” Her gaze moved from Luke’s bare chest to Blair’s bare legs and back again. “Hi, Luke. I didn’t realize you had company.” The woman’s cheeks turned pink.
Blair hid her wince and battled back the conflicting emotions churning inside her. This woman was pretty. She looked nice, neat, normal. She’d never take down a grown man in a fight, wield a sword, or shoot a gun. She looked exactly like a woman who’d make a nice wife and keep a lovely home. And she clearly had a thing for her hot, sexy, detective neighbor.
Blair really couldn’t blame her.
God. A horrible thought rocketed through Blair. MacKade hadn’t been banging her, had he?
Blair forced a smile. “I’m Blair.” She leaned past Luke and held out a hand. “Those muffins smell great.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Blair eats like a lumberjack.”
She shot him a glare.
The woman pasted on a smile and shook Blair’s hand. She had soft, slender hands. “I’m Meredith. I live next door. Well, here you go.” She shoved the plate forward. “I made extra, and thought you might like some.” Her gaze moved over Luke’s chest again.
And suddenly, Blair didn’t like the woman quite as much as she had a second ago.
Luke took the plate. “Thanks, Meredith.”
“You’re welcome. Well, enjoy those.” She turned with a wave of her slim hand. “You have a good day.”
Blair closed the door, then snagged a muffin off the plate. She took a huge bite. No surprise, the muffin tasted great. “Little Susie Homemaker has a crush.”
Luke scowled at her and carried the plate to the kitchen. “She’s my neighbor. She’s nice.”
Blair moved closer, batting her eyelids. “Why Detective MacKade, how big and strong and handsome you are. Perfect husband material.”
He glared at her.
“Why don’t I bake you some muffins?” Blair said in a high-pitched voice. “If you want, I’ll clean your house, do your laundry, and lie naked in your bed.”
He moved fast, pressing into Blair. She found herself squeezed back into the counter, with his big, half-naked body pinning her against it. The kiss he laid on her was hot and heavy.
“You’ll bake for me one day,” he murmured.
She snorted. “In your dreams, MacKade.”
“I have plenty of dreams about you, Blair. And that hot moment in my bedroom last night, the one where you stroked yourself until you came and I spilled all over your sweet ass, that fueled more of them.”
Her chest hitched. She knew he’d make her relive those sexy moments. Desire pulsed straight between her legs.
“With you, I don’t need you to make me muffins or bake me a damn cake. Just seeing you glare at me is enough to turn me on.” He turned. “I’m going to get dressed. I want to stop at the hospital on the way to headquarters.”
Blair watched him walk away, desire coiling in her belly.
* * *
Luke strode out of the hospital, trying not to think about Baxter unconscious in the bed upstairs. The detective had woken up in the night, but then slipped back into unconsciousness. Since then, there’d been no change.
Blair jogged beside him. “Hey, they’re feeling more confident about his condition. That’s good.”
Luke lifted his chin. Edgy, dark emotion was running through him. He wanted to find a reason to arrest Salvador Morgan, since he’d set all this in motion. He wanted Kazan so he could make the man pay.
He strode to his Explorer, determination fueling him. No more getting distracted by Blair’s sexy body. They had to find the sword. That had to be his priority.
She grabbed his arm and spun him around. He opened his mouth to blast her, but she reached up, her hand brushing his jaw.
The soft move made him pause.
“He’s going to make it.” No hesitation in her voice. “And we’re going to find the sword.”
The anger rushed out of him and he pulled in a shuddering breath. “Then let’s get to work.”
They’d just reached the Explorer, when Blair’s tablet pinged.
She pulled it out. “A video call from Nat.” Blair swiped the screen and leaned against the SUV. Luke moved in beside her.
The pretty archeologist’s face filled the screen. “Hi, guys. I wanted to tell you that I went through the Japanese text that you sent over.”<
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Luke’s pulse spiked.
“What have you got?” Blair asked.
“The text is the Bushido.”
“The what?” Luke asked.
“The way of the warriors. It was the code of conduct of the samurai. It outlined the codes of honor and ideals for the samurai to follow. It listed eight virtues: righteousness, heroic courage, compassion, respect, honesty, honor, duty and loyalty, and self-control.”
“I don’t know that these guys follow any of those,” Luke murmured.
“There’s a strange line at the end.” Nat frowned. “I haven’t managed to decipher it yet, but when I do, I’ll let you know.”
Blair frowned. “So we’re dealing with some samurai wannabes?”
“Something like that,” Nat said. “I know an expert on the samurai. Maybe talk to him and see if he knows about who these guys could be.”
“You got a name and address?” MacKade asked.
Nat nodded. “Sending it through to you now, Blair. Good luck.”
“I think it’s my turn to drive,” Blair said.
Luke snorted. “No way in hell. This is my car.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You know the guys on my team don’t care who drives. You don’t have to protect your alpha-male, macho image by always driving.”
“My car, I drive.”
She huffed out a breath. “Fine.”
It wasn’t long before he pulled up in front of a house that didn’t match any of the others on the typical Las Vegas suburban street. It looked like someone had taken a house from Tokyo and plonked it down in Vegas. It had clean, simple lines, with a dark tile roof.
Getting out of the car, Luke and Blair walked up a pretty, narrow pathway. The front door slid open, and a Japanese man with straight, black hair and dark eyes greeted them.
“My name is Takeshi.” He bowed his head. “Natalie told me that you were coming to visit me.”
“I’m Blair Mason, I work with Nat, and this is Detective Luke MacKade.”
“Please, take off your shoes and come in.”
Luke toed his boots off, and Blair did the same. Inside, the house was sparsely decorated with lots of wood and clean lines, and sliding doors. Luke heard the tinkle of a water feature and, as they rounded the corner into another room, he saw doors were open to a small courtyard featuring a koi pond. Bright fish were darting around in the water.
Takeshi waved them toward some pillows on the floor. They all sat.
“May I offer you something to drink?”
Luke shook his head. “We’re fine. Thank you.”
“How can I help you?”
“Nat said you’re an expert on the samurai,” Blair said.
The man nodded. “I lecture at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas.”
“Some swords were stolen from an exhibit recently. You may have heard of the Soul of Samurai Exhibit at the Spire Casino?”
Takeshi nodded. “I had planned to attend, but after the unfortunate attack, it has been closed.”
“The massacre that occurred, it happened with swords from the exhibit. Swords made by Sengo Muramasa.”
Something flashed in the man’s dark eyes. “I see.”
“We believe a wealthy local collector organized the theft of the swords,” Luke said. “But the man he tasked with recovering the swords never brought them to him. And now, it appears another group are also interested in the swords.”
Blair nodded. “They left some shurikens and Japanese text at a crime scene. They also attacked us on the interstate. Nat tells us the text they left is the Bushido.”
“The way of the warrior,” Takeshi murmured.
Luke pulled out a picture of the Japanese text and held it out.
Takeshi took it, frowning as he studied it. “I believe I know who these people are.”
“Who?” Luke asked.
“They call themselves Cold Night.”
Blair straightened. “Like the Muramasa sword in the legend Nat mentioned. 10,000 Cold Nights.”
Takeshi inclined his head. “Correct. They are a cult that worships the samurai. But they don’t truly understand the soul of the samurai. All they see is the fighting, the weapons, and the strength. But true strength isn’t just about a physical fight—” he glanced at Blair “—or how well you use a weapon.”
She blinked. “Okay.”
“True strength comes from within. True strength is when we follow our beliefs. When we still act to do the right thing, even in the face of our own fears.”
There was just the sound of the tinkling water.
“Be careful, Detective MacKade, Blair. These people are very dangerous, and they are no samurai.”
Luke and Blair wasted no time getting back to headquarters.
“You’ll run some searches on Cold Night?” she asked.
He nodded. “And I need to check in with my team. See if they’ve found anything else.”
As soon as Luke reached his desk, he saw he had a bunch of messages and calls to return. Clements, Rivera and Moretti appeared. They all looked tired.
“Baxter?” Clements asked.
“Hanging in there,” Luke said.
Moretti nodded. “He’s a tough bastard.”
“He is.” Luke straightened. “What have you guys got for me?”
“We identified the attacker,” Rivera said. “Guy called Jackson Caldwell. Clements and I swung by his place in North Vegas.”
Clements leaned against a desk. “And lo and behold, we found Kazan’s dead body.”
Rivera held up a hand. “But wait, there’s more.”
“Caldwell belongs to a samurai cult,” Blair said.
Rivera’s mouth snapped closed. “Dammit, how did you know?”
“Just came from visiting a samurai expert,” Luke said. “Cult is called Cold Night. Moretti and Rivera, I want you to dig up everything you can on them.”
The men nodded.
“On it,” Rivera said.
“Clements, follow up on Kazan’s murder.”
“You got it, boss.”
“I’ll update my team,” Blair murmured.
Everyone headed for their desks and Blair appropriated one by the window, working on her tablet. It wasn’t long before Luke was caught up in a whirlwind of work.
But frustration chewed on him with sharp teeth. He had no new leads. No credible data on Cold Night. No tips on where the sword might be.
He sat back and stabbed a hand through his hair.
Blair suddenly appeared, leaning a hip against his desk. “Time to call it a day, Detective.”
Shit, already? “Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He needed some damn sleep.
Blair fidgeted before he watched her straighten. He lowered his hands and waited.
“I’m going back to my place tonight. We both need a decent night’s rest so we’re fresh tomorrow.”
He scowled at her. “It’s safer if you stay with me.”
“I have an excellent security system, and I feel like a broken record telling you I can protect myself, MacKade. Us being together…is not a good idea.”
Anger shot through his veins. She was reinforcing her defenses, throwing up walls. “Because you’re afraid.”
She sighed. “Not this again.”
“I want to protect you.”
“And we both know you’ll do more than just protect me.”
“I want that, too,” he said.
“I…can’t.”
“Fuck, Blair. When are you going to stop running?”
Her face twisted. “I have my reasons.”
“So, talk to me.”
He watched the shutters drop down over her eyes. “Sleep well, MacKade.”
Luke sat there, gut churning, and watched her walk away.
Chapter Twelve
Blair stomped up the steps to her apartment. She was mad, angry, and pissed.
She was pissed at MacKade. Herself. This incessant desire that wouldn’t let up.
&
nbsp; And she was also pissed at the part of her that wanted to wrap her arms around Luke and not let go. He was single-minded in both his need for her and his desire to protect her.
She heaved out a breath. She wasn’t used to that.
And she knew she’d acted like a coward.
Walking down the hall to her door, she jiggled her keys. She wanted him. Flat-out wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man.
Her phone rang and her pulse jumped. Maybe it was Luke. She pulled the phone out of her pocket. Callie.
With a sigh, she pressed the phone to her ear. “Hey, Cal.”
“Just checking in.”
“No leads and no new stitches.”
Callie made a sound. “Not checking in on the mission. On you and the hot detective.”
Blair groaned. “Callie.”
“Spill, Mason.”
Leaning against the wall, Blair let her head thunk back. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Good.” Her friend sounded downright gleeful. “You’re always in complete control with the guys you date. And I use the word ‘date’ very loosely.”
“Cal, you know I lost good friends in the Marines. My friend, Beth. Hell, I almost lost Lachlan.”
“I know.” Callie’s tone was sober. “I understand.”
Of course, Callie did. As a pararescueman, Callie had lost both patients and fellow airmen.
“And I lost Will.” Just mentioning her brother had pain slicing up her belly. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, just the thought of Will made her throat tighten.
“You won’t lose Luke, Blair.”
“You can’t guarantee that. I…can’t risk it.” Blair closed her eyes. So damn weak.
“Some risks are worth taking,” Callie said. “Love is worth it. Worth the risk, the fear, even the pain.”
“Shit.”
“I hear that my work here is done.” There was a smile in Callie’s voice.
“You’re all kinds of annoying, Kimura.”
“You love me.”
Warmth filled Blair. Her team had worked their way under her skin without her even realizing. “Yeah, I do.”
Mission: Her Defense: Team 52 #4 Page 11
