Jasmine couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Gee, Kaid. Don’t you know that when Satan goes into a church, it bursts into flames?” Jasmine mimed an explosion with her hands. “You know, boom?”
Kaid dropped his head into his palm and gave his head a squeeze. “For Pete’s picking sake. This is not a game. If you fuck up, you could die. Focus and listen.”
Jasmine pulled an oops face, then settled back and listened to the plans. They made sense, and if it hadn’t been Xylvar, she would have agreed it was best for someone to infiltrate the group if they got the chance. She could work with anyone but Xylvar.
“Who else can I do the assignment with?”
“No one. Everyone on our team is either stretched, or known in the region.”
“Stuff the holiday. The Caribbean has to be overrated.” Who needed sun and tropical heat and watching tanned, fit, half-naked men sunbathing? “I’d probably die before I got to go anyway.”
“Yours and Xylvar’s safety will be our priorities.”
Kaid pulled his portable cyber tablet out, hit a button, and handed it to her. On it was a picture of a beach. A gorgeous male model, wet and glistening, was emerging from the turquoise water. “In person, it’s better than this.”
Hex on him. She snatched the tablet out of his hand and looked at the image.
“First class, 5-star. Two weeks.”
Jasmine met Xylvar’s silvery gaze, then met Kaid’s suspiciously triumphant one. “I’m going to kill Bliss for telling you my holiday fantasies.”
“Is that a yes?”
She gave an exasperated but resigned sigh. “5-star, and…make it three weeks. Plus a guarantee: I don’t feel safe for any reason, I’m out.”
Kaid nodded. “Deal. Would have given you four.”
“Shit.” She really needed to upgrade her negotiating skills.
“Fuck. Her death will be on your heads.”
Jasmine was surprised at the impassioned way Xylvar accused Kaid and Zane. She had doubted he’d care if anyone died.
Zane smirked “Nobody will be at risk. If you do your job, they’ll never guess you’re working against them. If anyone dies, it will be a Pure sympathizer.”
Worry, maybe even a flicker of fear, crossed Xylvar’s face. Jasmine wondered about it. Was Xylvar already on someone’s radar?
Or, mercenary to the bone, was Xylvar so available for hire the Pures already knew Kaid’s silver-eyed, black-hearted friend?
Was she about to sell her life for a holiday while being placed under the care of a Pure sympathizer?
6
Chapter Six
The sun was high in the sky when Xylvar pulled the wheelchair-converted van Katoom’s Crea and Eli clans supplied for Todd and Storm into the parking space at the side of the blue single-story duplex. Dan, one of Kaid’s highest-ranked clan soldiers, chose this duplex to rent, since it had been made wheelchair-friendly by the previous owner.
Sucked that the apartment he’d really needed for the last two years was a loaner—to Todd. Todd’s background had been set up as so boringly suburban the world fell asleep at the mention of his name. Did such dull people actually exist?
At least Storm suited Jaz’s expression. Rather gave her the look of the sort of wife Todd the dull would score. Angry and disappointed. Of course, this Todd had to be a dud in the bedroom activity department.
Xylvar pressed the button to open the driver’s door. Once it lifted into the air, he hit another switch. He and his wheelchair rose an inch, then smoothly slid sideways before the hydraulic system lowered him the fifteen inches to the ground. Once his chair was free, the platform smoothly lifted back up and into the vehicle. A button on the vehicle’s startup disc closed his door. Sure beat the winch system the department funded for installation in his ten-year-old van.
Jaz went to the back of the hatchback and extracted two large, reusable cornpaper grocery bags. She walked over and put them in his lap. “Husbands help carry the groceries.”
“How do you know? You said you never married.” He was stunned when she told him she never married Anthony. More stunned, and deeply saddened, to learn Anthony died years ago from Mule addiction.
“Eyes, idiot.”
He spun his chair and headed for the front door. The blinds covering the front window of their new neighbor’s duplex shimmered a fraction. Xylvar could see what looked like the shine of a viewing device through a tiny slit at very bottom, as if someone sat on the floor underneath and held the device up like a periscope. A warm breeze gusted up the street, bringing with it the scent of someone cooking onions and bacon, and the chatter of busy birds.
Why not just turn the blinds so the occupants could see out but nobody could see in? Idiots.
He schooled his features to what he hoped looked like happy husband. In Special Ops, acting skills hadn’t been a requirement to make the cut, but he’d found some skill paved the path to living rather than dying.
He waited for Jaz to pick up her two grocery bags, close and the lock the vehicle. As his fake bride passed by, he plastered on a fake smile. Their gazes met, and he saw something in her face soften, her lips parting in a small smile. Damn him to hell, but he wanted to kiss her.
One day this woman would have a real marriage, she’d share that soft smile with her real husband, and she’d kiss him willingly. A whole man, who could take her in passion, and be worthy of such a prize.
What did he care?
One thing he didn’t covet—marriage or mating. Not even if he was whole and could provide what a husband should. Enough income to provide for a family…and sex. Stability of mind would probably be good in a marriage too, but that pleasure cruiser had long ago sailed, been gutted by a glacier, and sunk.
Inside the duplex, she turned and looked back out, giving him a knowing look. “You coming in, or you going to stare at my ass for another five minutes?”
Packaged in that tight, prim, knee-length skirt, her ass…a full, firm peach…begged to be stared at. “A man can’t admire his wife’s ass?” He was a butt man, after all. No point in trying to deny his nature.
Wonder what she’d do if he gave it a feel-up. But after inappropriately patting a waitress’s butt during his first meet and greet with two of the Katoom clan a couple of months ago, Kaid had laid down not just laws, but suggested ways a man should behave to be considered a decent human being.
Seeing two such healthy and whole Eli waiting to talk to him had topped off his feeling-inadequate vat. Earlier, three women had veered wide of his chair, as if his disability was catching. Two teens had sneered as he wheeled past. By the time he entered the café, he’d been in a particularly black mood, and, to top it all off, the waitress was exuding sexual innuendo toward Kaid, a man who appeared to almost have it all.
Yeah, so he’d been given the no-touchy talk by Kaid, but wouldn’t feeling up Jaz’s ass be part of the act of playing husband. That part of the act he’d enjoy. Though for his sanity, he’d have to cut off his hand after.
She grunted, turned, and headed for the kitchen he could see in the far left of the duplex. He swore she swung her hips more than usual, but then he probably just focused on the lower part of her anatomy.
“Todd, you coming?”
Todd. The name alone would get him killed if they got caught. Inside the duplex, he found a living standard far above his norm, but not as luxurious as the cabin he’d stayed in on Eli clan land. It shocked him how the peace of its setting affected him. He’d forgotten the power of nature’s scents, ambience and quiet. But after thirty-six hours, he’d been keen to leave. Quiet also gave your mind too much time to sift through images of the past, of the present, of what he would wish for the future.
Overthinking could blow out one of his already-fried circuits.
In the kitchen, he lifted the bags from his lap onto the kitchen counter. Jaz headed for the cooler and started to put the fresh food away. Xylvar watched, fascinated by her grace. She’d chosen so many fruits and vegetables, he wonde
red if she thought they were both goats rather than mostly human.
A handful of carrots in her hand, she bent to the lower vegetable-life-extender drawer. The back of her skirt hitched up, delighting him with a view of long toned, legs. Some men might think she carried a bit of extra weight, but he’d never liked his women bony. He preferred curves. There was something about full hips and breasts that said this is woman, and such womanliness called to his inner beast.
Being only a quarter Eli, he didn’t have a full-beast demanding to be released into the world to claim a woman. But there was enough to sense it wanting to prowl around such a woman. The softest silver dusted the back of his hands, and he could feel it shimmer onto his cheeks. He spun away so she couldn’t see how she affected him.
That was the problem with Eli, their emotions always showed as soon as the liquid metal in their blood rose to their skin. A full-blood Eli could shine like a chrome beacon of lust or hate. At least Xylvar had to suffer only a dusting of embarrassment.
“Everything all right?”
With a roll of his shoulders, he eased out a soft breath, until the silver receded. He turned the chair back to face her. “Why?” Shit. His lower body might not feel lust but he sure as shit could in his mind. Just another one of fate’s sick little tricks of torture.
“You’ve a very odd look on your face.”
“Of course I do. My name is Todd. I’m married and live in the ’burbs. I need a fucking blaster hole in my forehead.”
She stared into his eyes and went very still. “Do you think of that often? Shooting yourself?”
He met her brown, contact-concealed gaze. A crime to hide such pretty eyes. “No.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Liar, liar, bitch on fire.”
“You have to call me Storm so I remember to use it.”
He started to tap his finger on the arm of his chair. “Already finding our farce difficult? Maybe next time you’ll be harder to bribe.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Two people I know are missing. They’re friends and colleagues. The Caribbean is just a bonus. I’d have done it anyway. Besides, you didn’t see the picture of the ma…ocean.
“You could have refused. Katoom clan has nice lodges.”
“True, and one is already designated as mine. But why knock back something I want? Besides, once we find my friends and get them to safety I’m going to need a holiday. A feast of sun, surf, sand, and hot, half-naked men will be exactly what I need.”
“The men are important?” He watched her carefully.
“Not really. But I want the rest. To toast in the sun a little. Forget myself a little.”
“That I understand.”
She wrinkled her nose at him in a childish up-yours. He grinned, but she bent and went back to unpacking the groceries. He admired the rather delectable cleavage the soft scoop of her neckline sagged to reveal. Hot tits and ass, always worth studying. There might be bonuses in this co-hab gig after all. Or nightmares.
“When you’re finished playing housewife, we’ll need to start digging into some work.”
She gave him the royal middle finger. “I will when I’m ready.”
And there they were, like a real couple, bicker, bitch, bait.
#
Jasmine couldn’t wait to get away from the heated looks and the anger in Xylvar’s eyes. How would she manage to live with him for the next few weeks without blasting him with a stun gun? If that’d work on such a man.
“I’m going to unpack my things into the main bedroom, and then take just what I need each night into my room.”
“You can have the main room.”
“The electric hoist is in there, so that room’s set up for you.”
“I don’t need a hoist.”
She looked at the room, then at his chair, and scowled. “You don’t have one at home?”
“Of course not.”
“You should.”
“I’m not useless.”
She held her hand up. “Nobody said you were. But I’m fine with the spare.” With an upper body like Xylvar’s, nobody would consider him useless. In reality, only Xylvar had a problem with the results of his accident. A shame. Super-intelligent, and, from her research through the FBPI site, he’d been at the top of his squad, and under consideration for promotion before his accident. Thank goodness she automatically erased her search results, and deleted the cyber stain such a search would leave, since there appeared to be a mole in the bureau.
Feeling drained, Jasmine went to unpack the clothes Bliss helped her select for Storm, and the few items of surveillance wear and gear from her everyday agency pack. She’d already been around Xylvar too long for one day. Only a few hours in, and she’d started to re-see the beauty of his looks behind the coldness of his gaze and the scar that marred the masculine perfection. If anything, that scar blew his hot-scale off the charts.
When she opened her cyber diary this morning, she dutifully marked the day off as one done in this co-habitation façade. The problem with marking days off was there was no set end date to this assignment. Until they’d completed their task and hopefully found and disbanded the Pure cell in Bozeman, she would live the Storm and Todd lie.
What that would do to her mentally or emotionally was, she supposed, part of the cost of the assignment.
#
Jaz woke from a restless sleep a little before dawn, even though she wasn’t normally into the rise and shine thing, more the sleep like the dead until the alarm went off, then drink coffee in hopes of being able to crack an eyelid open thing.
This way she’d get a bit of quiet time before she had to face Xylvar. She quickly made her bed so it looked like an unused guest room once more, padded to the guest bathroom, showered, then dressed for comfort in a loosely knitted white top and a pair of thick tights. She slipped on soft leather ballet-type slippers, gathered her sleepwear to put in the main bedroom after Xylvar rose, and headed to the kitchen, leaving her clothes on the coffee table on the way by.
She could already see how this would become her norm.
Though important they appear as a couple, she envisioned no way or reason she’d need to share the bed with him. Sure, her long-lost virtue was safe, but she’d get no rest that close to the energy oozing off him.
Nothing made a sound. Outside, the only noise was the soft rumble of a distant car and the jaay-jaay squawk of a blue jay. She headed for the auto coffee brewer and put the silly floral mug she found in the cupboard on the auto sensor, where the machine would measure the volume needed before delivering the caffeinated order.
“Grind fresh, full black, no sugar.” The machine silently went to work.
Dainty cup in hand, she carefully headed for the link the clan had given her to work with.
Time passed, and her back ached as the sun pushed through the window to cast soft rays across the floor. Under a log-in by someone called the Gold Tiger, she detected a deleted message. The coding had broken the message into single words, but she searched carefully, noting and matching the cyber shadow until she found the word, loose. More minutes passed, then the word moose came into focus. Most of the words still floating weren’t quite the same shadow-code. But for some reason, moose and loose stood out as a shadowed pair.
She slumped back in her seat, drained the dregs of the now cool coffee, and yawned. Loose and moose? Made no sense. Code or a joke? After all, what would a loose moose look like? She laughed. A drunk one? Its long legs shooting out from under its body, or crossing over and tripping itself?
Another flowery cup of coffee made, she savored the aroma again, letting the moist steam warm her nose and mouth, the edges of her cheeks. On the soft click of the front door shutting she spun to find Xylvar sitting in his chair watching her. She shivered. He’d come through the front door, and she hadn’t heard him leave or open the door to return, and she an agent with senses honed for self-protection.
“Creepy, much? When did you go out?”
He shrugged. “While ago. I’ll have a coffee.”
He’d gone out before she woke up. Did he sleep at all? “Good for you. The machine’s there, and it will understand your voice as easily as mine. Where were you?” she followed him into the kitchen and dug out a delicate pink and yellow floral cup, grinned evilly as she handed it to him.
“Morning walk.” He met her look, and his lips twitched just enough for her to make out the joke.
“Hope it put you in a good mood.”
She pulled out pancake makings. It was going to be another long day, so she needed energy. And she could pour the leftover batter in her ears to drown out his chattiness. Fates, she amused herself. Xylvar, chatty?
Xylvar rolled toward the coffee maker, and instructed the machine to make it black and double strength.
Without a word, Jasmine made batter for large batch of pancakes, slid a heavy iron skillet onto the methane gas flame, and melted some butter on it before ladling out pancakes. While they cooked and she flipped and ladled out more batter, Xylvar drank his coffee and stared out the large side window. The entire fence line outside had been made into an upright garden. And with the midsummer heat and sunshine, the plants were full of flowers. Insects after the morning-rich nectar hovered and buzzed.
“We should put out a birdbath, and a feeder.”
Stunned, she turned and gaped at him until she smelled a pancake burning. Yanked out of speechless mode, she flipped it into the bin. “We’ll only be here a couple of weeks.” She hoped.
“They’ll still be here for the next people to enjoy.”
Jasmine took another look outside. Some things just weren’t that easy to understand. “Yeah, sure. We can do that.” Heck, they only cost a few dollars each, and if it made some bird or little critter’s life easier, she was happy to set it up. She just couldn’t work out why Xylvar gave a damn.
She kept making pancakes until the batter ran out. Then, while they were hot, she carried two large stacks to the small dining table, added butter, maple syrup, berries, and fresh cream. She ordered another coffee for herself, this time with fresh cream and a dash of cinnamon and carried her mug to the table.
Flames of Hope Page 5
