by Jami Gray
She was so screwed.
“What’s next?” His voice cut through her dismal thoughts.
Turning her head, she brought his face into focus, even as fatigue crept in. Add in the few hours of sleep she managed last night, plus all of the emotionally packed revelations from today, and she wanted to close her eyes and drift for a while.
“Now, we get some sleep.” She sighed and straightened. “There’s nothing to do until we find out whether or not Polleo is linked to Talbot.” Finishing her tea, she rose from the booth and stretched her arms above her body, her spine popping and her shoulders loosening. Dropping her arms, she made a grab for her coat and caught his gaze. She could have sworn she saw fleeting hunger, but he moved and the impression was gone. She cursed her overactive imagination, praying it was just lack of sleep that kept tripping her up around him. However, she knew better. He was getting to her.
She waved to her friend as they headed back out into the chilly night. It was still clear and neither said a word as they walked back to the SUV, dodging puddles from the earlier rain. As they moved closer to the parking lot, and away from the more populated areas, the shadows increased. Soon their footsteps were the only sound on the cracked sidewalk.
They passed two darkened buildings when the hushed sound of metal against cloth whispered through the air. It was followed by the soft sound of water squelching under foot.
She didn’t falter, and neither did Gavin. A couple of steps more and she had both wrist blades in her hands. The black coated blades blended into her own dark garments, their silver runes turned in toward her body so no light would reflect off them. She shot a look at Gavin and saw his hand down by his thigh, a long darkened blade tucked close to his leg.
She’d have to remember to ask where he kept that thing.
Neither one had guns, since firearms tended to stop working without warning for those with magical means. It didn’t mean their follower couldn’t have one. She still had her trench coat with its protection spell, but she wasn’t sure how strong Gavin’s spells were. Though, short of a head shot with cold iron, they should survive.
His free hand made a series of short motions.
She gave a tiny nod to let him know she understood. At the next narrow alley, they would turn a corner, and she would fade into the shadows to wait. The plan was to let the mystery stalker turn the corner and continue to follow them before he realized one of them had disappeared. They were banking on the fact most people wouldn’t be able to see clearly in the inky darkness.
As they turned the corner, she made her move toward the shadows. Gavin continued forward. In a matter of steps, they realized they weren’t alone in the alleyway. It seemed the bad guys were a bit more prepared than usual.
Inside the darkened depths of the alley three more figures spread out, trapping Raine and Gavin between them and their pursuers. Raine spun around, putting her back to Gavin’s. She was slightly miffed when she saw that instead of one person, two individuals blocked the opening closest to the street.
Damn, how had she missed the second one?
From their muscular outlines, they were male, dressed in all black, their faces hidden in the shadows. With no vibrations in the air, it meant they weren’t shifters, nor did they seem to be using magic. Which left humans. Weak moonlight reflected off the guns in their hands—yep, definitely human. Either they didn’t know Gavin and Raine were Kyn, or they carried the typical mortal arrogance that bullets could solve any problem.
Here’s hoping their aim was off.
Clearing her mind, she pictured a thickening in the air surrounding her, doing what she could to set up a protection circle to slow down the bullets once they started flying. Behind her, she could feel the line of tension radiating from Gavin, and then the slight thrum indicating he’d put up his own protection circle. The two spelled circles merged into a warm line of energy, and on some deeper level, something clicked—a key to a lock. The strange sensation was pushed aside as she focused on their attackers, waiting for the bad guys to move first. It always helped if you could honestly say the dead men struck first. Self-defense at its finest.
At some unseen signal, the five shadows struck as one.
A bullet hit her circle and slowed down before grazing her left shoulder. A second one nicked high up on her right thigh. It was enough to throw her balance off, dropping her to her right knee. Letting one of her blades fly, it found a lethal home in the throat of the taller of her assailants.
His body folded to his knees, his fingers frantically trying to remove the knife. His eyes went blank, his hands dropped from his wound, and blood trickled from his open mouth as he fell over, dead. His partner, realizing their bullets weren’t slowing her down, pulled out his own wicked-looking knife. He bent his knees, arms loose, knife ready, and moved in.
Unbalanced and in a half-kneeling position, she blocked his first series of punches and kicks. His next kick got lucky, knocking her blade into the darkness. She caught his knife with a rising block of her forearm and the edge of his blade left a stinging line of fire. Pushing herself back up into a standing position, she brought her left leg around in a solid roundhouse kick. The knife clattered to the ground while the sound of bones snapping like twigs indicated she broke his wrist. The howl of pain following shortly thereafter was icing on the cake.
Back in a steady defensive stance, she landed a few well-placed strikes, dropping her second attacker to the ground with a solid thump. With her two down, she turned to help Gavin.
Except he seemed to have it under complete control. Two of his three attackers were already motionless lumps on the concrete. The third was on his knees, doubled over Gavin’s foot.
Her quick once over noted a bloody stain marring Gavin’s gray T-shirt. Another rip, high on the shoulder of his jacket indicated someone else managed to get close before they met the pavement. A flashing movement caught her attention as his foot solidly connected with the side of the kneeling man’s head. He joined the other two lumps on the ground.
Gavin stood still, catching his breath. The dim play of moonlight and shadows across his face mesmerized her. This was the real Gavin. The green eyes glowing in anticipation, full lips pulled back from sharp white teeth in a predatory snarl, his warrior’s body primed for action. This was a male capable of protecting what was his. His gaze caught hers, the heat of battle quickly replaced by a more dangerous heat.
A responding warmth filled her veins.
He took a deliberate step toward her, his larger frame looming over hers.
Caught in the feral intensity of his gaze with the heat shimmering through her, she was hypnotized. The urge to protect herself from this man was drowned out by her need to touch, to luxuriate in his strength. Lost, she pressed her hands to his chest, his T-shirt a useless barrier against the heat radiating into her palms.
He lowered his head, his mouth coming closer, tempting her.
Helplessly, she rose on her toes to close the distance, but the faint sound of drunken laughter broke the spell. In unison, they turned toward the mouth of the alley, watching as a group of oblivious partygoers stumbled by. Reality slammed home, dousing the heat with ice.
Stepping back, she dropped her gaze and caught a small flash of her blade against the wall next to her. She covered her obvious retreat by kneeling and retrieving her blade. Behind her, she heard his deep inhale.
Without a word, they both started going through the pockets of the downed men. Not surprisingly, they didn’t find anything to indicate who they were, or what they had wanted. Now, as she thought about it, she realized none of the men in black had said a word. That small fact left her uneasy. It just didn’t seem normal.
“Did you leave any alive?” Gavin’s low whisper echoed slightly in the alleyway.
She glanced up and saw him kneeling next to the man he’d put down last. Desire shimmered under her skin, making her want to reach out. She shook her head. Job first, personal shit later.
She felt th
e neck of the man she had kicked and couldn’t find a pulse. She met Gavin’s eyes, knowing her own were just as calm and cold. “No.”
Getting to her feet, she retrieved the knife she had thrown, locking her emotions down, so the slight sucking noise as she drew the blade out didn’t turn her stomach. Wiping the blood from her blade on the dead man’s sweater, she put it back in its sheath. She studied the bodies. Based on their attack she felt safe making one guess. “How much you want to bet that they’re ex-military?”
“It’s a sucker’s bet. The question is, who are they working for?”
She was pretty sure they belonged to Talbot. She’d wager her next year’s salary a Taliesin investigator had finally connected Polleo to Talbot, which meant Talbot knew he was being looked at. How had he found them so fast? Hell, she’d puzzle it out later. Right now, there were other things to worry about.
“First thing’s first, we need to make this look good for the authorities. Someone had to have heard those gunshots and made a call.” Her adrenaline started to level and exhaustion slowly crept back in. “We can’t just drag them to the river and toss them in. It would take too long.” How do you make five dead bodies look natural?
She and Gavin had a short discussion of their options, finally settling on a few minor changes so it looked as if two men had gone against three. They stripped some of the bodies so they weren’t all in black. That would be too weird for any explanation.
She placed the knife she’d managed to kick away, into the throat of her first attacker. Good thing most of the men had white T-shirts on underneath. It’d be hard to explain bare-chested men in the middle of October in Portland. Bad enough some of them wouldn’t have jackets on.
Following Gavin’s suggestion, they returned to where they initially stood their ground, and picked up the spent bullets and the matching casings. Since none of the men had bullet wounds it was better to get rid of any evidence of the spent ammunition. Hopefully, the police would assume any gunshots heard had gone wild. It would also make identifications that much harder.
They’d let the authorities try to tie it all together. Questions would be raised, but the possible conclusions would either run along the lines of smugglers using abandoned warehouses as an illicit meeting place, or to a drug deal gone sour.
Whatever. It would be better than the truth. Humans rarely looked beyond the obvious. She and Gavin were counting on that trait to hide their involvement.
Scene set, they walked quickly back to the parking lot and left. They made a couple of detours on their way out of the district to dump the bullets and casings in separate spots. Then with the night clouds playing hide and seek with the moon, they headed out of the city.
Chapter Seven
Raine took Gavin home with her, rationalizing it was quicker to go there than back to the office—even her inner voice wasn’t buying that one—an unprecedented move she hoped no one at Taliesin would ever hear about. If they did, the rumors would grow to grossly elaborate proportions, filled with all sorts of innuendos and sly asides. As far as she was concerned, office gossip comprised an outer level of hell just by its nature of twisted truths and sheer vindictiveness.
Neither one spoke during the drive. Pulling into her detached garage she shut the engine off, listening to it tick in the silence. She leaned her head back against the headrest, her hands quiet on her lap.
“We stepped on someone’s toes,” Gavin’s voice was low and soft.
When she rolled her head to look at him, she noticed the small lines of pain around his mouth. The tiny indicators tugged on her conscience, urging her to get them inside, but she couldn’t find the energy to move. She blinked, long and slow, not bothering to respond.
In the darkness, his eyes were pale jade and his light earthy scent reminded her of a deep forest glen after a rain, comforting and disconcerting all at the same time. She had the strongest urge to trace those pain lines away.
That last observation disturbed her enough to make her move and open her door as the tension from earlier made a comeback. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep. I’m barely functioning right now.”
His door opened, and his feet hit the ground.
They headed toward the house.
Once inside, he followed her into the kitchen. “Déjà-vu,” he muttered.
She threw him a look over her shoulder, once again dragging out her first aid kit. “Except we’ve switched places.”
His low chuckle answered.
Gathering what she needed, she turned and found him sitting in a chair, shirtless. There was no way she could stop herself from taking him in. His gray T-shirt was on the floor and the expanse of golden flesh confronting her made her thoughts scatter. Realizing she was just standing there, gawking at him, she mentally shook herself like a wet dog, snapping back into focus.
Slightly disconcerted, she met his darkening gaze. Grabbing another chair, she dragged it next to his, took a seat, and faced him. Trying to ignore the sensation of her left thigh barely brushing his outstretched right leg, she bent over his wound. Her voice came out husky, “We need to clean you up, though I don’t think you’ll need stitches.”
He said nothing.
She slanted a glance up to find him watching her—like some big cat waiting to pounce. She shrugged and forced her attention back to the work at hand, though her fingers trembled slightly as she cleaned the blood off the now half-closed wound. Warmth radiated from him, spreading chills down her arms. Her awareness of him as a male raised her tension level—which, in turn, pissed her off. Her eyes whipped to his. “Whatever you’re doing, knock it off. I don’t like games.”
At her outburst, satisfaction darkened his face. “I’m not doing anything.” His other arm darted around her neck. His fingers wrapped around her braid, and he drew her head down to meet his lips. “But I can change that.”
She tried to tell herself it was shock holding her immobile in his firm grip, not curiosity.
His warm, full lips whispered across her mouth, not pushing for a response.
She pressed closer, her hand flattening on the burning skin covering his chest, as her own lips softened under his.
Before the kiss could even start, he raised his head, lightly tracing her lips with his tongue and then sat back, studying her face.
She knew her eyes reflected her internal confusion when she caught the flash of male triumph in his gaze. Straightening slowly, she moved so his hand no longer held her neck. “Don’t,” her voice was almost a whisper. “I’m not up to this right now.”
“For now,” he agreed, his voice equally quiet.
She dropped her eyes, veiling the swirling emotions, and began putting things back into the first aid kit in her lap.
He reached out and absently stroked his fingers over the old scars on her wrist.
Her hands stilled.
When she went to stand up, his hand shackled her wrist. “Some of that blood isn’t mine.” He nodded to the rust colored stains standing out starkly on her white, fleeced shirt. “How bad is it?”
She twisted her wrist slightly, escaping his restraining fingers. “They’re just nicks. It’s not all mine.” Moving to the counter, she put the kit back in its drawer. “Let me show you where you can sleep.”
He wisely kept his mouth shut.
Despite being keenly aware of his presence as he followed her down the left hand hall to the second bedroom, she managed to hold her composure together as she opened the door. The king bed, covered in a patchwork quilt of faded red and blues, dominated the far wall. A nightstand holding a lamp sat tucked on one side. Against the near wall a set of drawers sat under a mirror. She showed him where the extra towels were so he could take a shower.
Wishing him a good night, she left him and headed into her room at the end of the hall. Shutting her door softly, she leaned her head against the smooth wood. She fought back the small voice urging her to open the door and follow through on his earlier unspoken invitation.
Refusing to acknowledge the regret swirling inside her, she reached down and turned the lock. The quiet sound echoed softly down the hall.
Safely locked in her own room, she let her breath out slowly. Turning, she pressed her shoulders against the door while she slid to the floor. What had she been thinking letting him kiss her?
She ran a hand over her face. Good grief, she wasn’t some silly twit whose higher brain functions crashed when confronted with a half-naked male. Nor was she a simpering virgin. Her few sexual experiences fulfilled a basic need, supplying a simple release, nothing more. Sex itself could be good, but she had a sinking suspicion if she and Gavin ever ended up in bed, good wouldn’t be enough to cover what would happen.
Exhaustion. It was the only sane explanation she could find for her aberrant behavior. It wasn’t normal for her to be sitting on the floor, thinking about Gavin and sex in the same sentence. Maybe her hormones were making her delusional.
Slowly, she pushed to her feet before pulling her stained shirt off and tossing it toward the basket next to her bathroom. Restless and edgy, she moved across the shadowed hardwood floors in the moonlit darkness, not bothering to turn on the lights.
She removed her wrist blades and stashed them in the drawer next to her high-set poster bed. She’d clean them tomorrow morning. A quick check under her pillow ensured the seven-inch dirk she inherited from her mother was still tucked away.
Talk about a security blanket.
Turning away from the temptation of her bed, she entered her bathroom, flicking on the switch to cast a warm glow over the oversized tub to her left. The open shower was tiled in stone and large enough to hold three people easily, with a shelf doubling as a seat that ran along one side. When she turned the handle, water fell from the hidden spouts in the ceiling. Stepping back, she leaned against the granite counter, waiting for the water to heat.
