Enemy Mine

by Karin Harlow

  Never.

  Nikko woke slowly. He swam in a deep pool, his vision hazy, his movements slow, but he rose to the light. As he surfaced, memories of the night before came crashing down around him. In fast-forward, he relived his reunion with Selena. How he had saved her. He remembered the daemon attack, swimming to her yacht, then—Jesus! He’d had one hell of a dream. They had fucked ferociously. He had—given her back her necklace. He sat up in the empty bed. Dream hell! She’d played him! And he knew she was long gone.

  Quickly he dressed and ran up to the bridge to call in. As he passed through the salon, he stopped in his tracks. Under the cover of night, he had not seen the details of the interior, but now in the morning glare he saw everything—including the stuffed Minnie Mouse, sitting on a chair near the bridge door.

  It was the same doll he’d bought for his unborn daughter.

  Nikko’s blood drained from his face. His heart slowed to an erratic thud. A different kind of urgency filled him. One slow step at a time, he walked toward the doll. With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched it.

  It was soft but worn, as if much loved by a child, as if a small hand had hugged and caressed it over the years. Emotions ruptured in his chest. A longing so powerful it hurt filled him. Had Selena kept it all these years? Did she regret what she had done? He brought the doll to his nose and inhaled. Gooseflesh erupted along his arms. The scent was not Selena’s. The doll smelled of sunshine and animal crackers. A child’s scent. Moist heat stung his eyes. Why was the doll here? Who had caressed it and infused it with its scent? Had Selena given it to another child? Or—Nikko’s entire body shook with fear, hope, despair—to the one for whom it had been intended?

  The sun shines on the nuns … where it began.

  They’d begun on St. Michael’s.

  Nikko’s heart shuddered to a halt. He’d thought Selena’s words as she lay in the elevator were a dying woman’s chaotic mumblings. Had finally understood why she—a daemon—would consider an island to be the safest place in the world. The safest place from other daemons.

  But now, with the doll in his hands, with the desperate but real hope that perhaps the love he’d sensed in her had been truth—not just for him, but for their daughter—Nikko reevaluated her words.

  Perhaps they hadn’t been uttered for her benefit, but for his.

  Perhaps they’d been a clue. If Selena thought she was dying, perhaps it was a clue meant to lead him to their daughter.

  Was it possible?

  Had she—? That scar on her belly. A cesarean scar?

  He felt faint. His knees wavered. Nikko sat down.

  Marisol, sunny sea. They were going to name their daughter Marisol. The sunny sea. Where she was conceived in love.

  The sun shines on the nuns of St. Michael’s.

  Nikko inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, fighting the excitement welling within him. He needed to rationally think this through. Selena’s father. She’d said she meant to protect him from her father. Who else was she protecting? And what better place to hide a child from a daemon than on an island in the care of nuns?

  When Selena thought she was dying, she had told him Marisol was alive and where to find her! Holy Mother of God, his daughter was alive.

  He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. All this time, he’d thought Selena had destroyed his daughter, when all along she was alive. Just as Selena had lived. Why? Why had she kept him from his daughter? He had a right to know her. She had a right to know him. Renewed rage erupted. Selena had played God with his life and his daughter’s life. She had no right, damn her!

  He must go to St. Michael’s to see for himself if he was delusional with grief, yearning, and plain old Rev-induced psychosis, or if Marisol was alive. But Selena’s words about her father stopped him. Would he jeopardize Marisol’s safety? It looked as if he and his ex were going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting in the near future. Because Nikko was not going to stay away from his daughter. Not when he’d already lost eight years with her.

  He called Godfather.

  “We’ve got a lock on Noslov in Paris,” Godfather’s voice boomed triumphantly.

  Though it took every ounce of restraint he possessed, Nikko forced himself to focus on his mission and not St. Michael’s Island. “Is he accessible?”

  “He’s got an armed detail surrounding him, as well as the perimeter buildings. Stone and Satch are on their way along with Cassidy and Cross. I have every reason to believe they will extract him.”

  “What makes you think he’ll talk once we have him?”

  “We aren’t going to make him talk. Cassidy gave me the 411 on what your girl is capable of. She’s going to get the information for us.”

  To hear Godfather speak so matter-of-factly about Selena’s daemon powers was more than a little freaky. It was downright creepy to know she could get into people’s heads and manipulate their thoughts and actions. Getting into Vegas’s head had nearly killed her. Would getting into Noslov’s push her to her limit again?

  Was he willing to risk it? Her life for information they could easily get with a little L.O.S.T. coercion? A big part of him was not.

  “Cruz, did you hear me?”

  “I’m flattered you think I have that kind of control over her, which I don’t, but it’s a moot point. She’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “That stuff she injected me with ran me ragged. I crashed and burned last night. I woke up and she was gone. Your hunch was right about her connection to Balderama. She works for him. They got word that that asshole in Venezuela had struck a deal with Noslov for the cask. They went after it for safekeeping. We both failed. She’s on her way to Noslov, and she’s not going to share him if she gets to him first.”

  “Cruz, see that she does.”

  “You want me to stand by while she nabs him?”

  “I want you to convince her we’re all on the same side. Once we have the information we need, we’ll maneuver the cask into our possession by whatever means necessary.”

  “Godfather, you don’t know Selena—”

  “No, but you do. Do whatever you must to get the information from her. I’ll alert our hangar at Miami International to have the jet ready. You’re going to have to fly it yourself, I’m fresh out of pilots. Now, get on it pronto. Word on the street is that deposits are being made on that cask. It’s become the hottest commodity to hit the black market since opium.”

  Godfather hung up.

  Nikko let out a long breath. He was torn between chartering a seaplane and flying up to St. Michael’s to see for himself if his suspicions were true, and the call of duty. In the end, duty trumped. Only because if Marisol was alive, she was safe. For the moment, at least. Besides, Selena Guerrero had a lot of explaining to do.

  Dusk gently blanketed Paris. Selena hopped off the slick black Ducati Streetfighter she’d ridden in on, rocked it back on the kickstand, then pulled off her helmet. She shook her long hair as she covertly surveyed the activity on the street. She stood in the heart of Montmartre, the Sacré-Coeur looming just beyond the buildings surrounding her, its great white dome reflecting the setting sun. Just down the street on the same side as where she stood, a dozen armed men unsuccessfully attempted to blend in with the barren winter landscape. Noslov was in the building they milled in front of. She didn’t have to look up to know that at least a half dozen snipers patrolled the rooftops adjoining the building. Noslov had the misconception he was protected. Maybe against most threats, including Nikko’s team, but Noslov’s highly trained mercs were no match for the power she would unleash on them.

  Selena smiled, anxious for the encounter. She’d always had a bit of an adrenaline junkie in her, but after Johnny—well, having realized what she must do to survive, she lived for this kind of stuff.

  Farther down the street, she noticed two men who were doing a much better job of looking to be part of the landscape. One was disguised as a starving artist slowly lugging his canvas-laden bike up the hill, w
hile another had set up shop as a street vendor selling secondhand frames.

  Her nose twitched. The vampire from her club and his consort were near. She was impressed. Whatever agency Johnny, er, Nikko worked for certainly knew its trade. The woman was undetectable, and the vampire? Her gaze rose toward the rooftop directly across the street from the building Noslov was holed up in. The vampire’s blood scent was strong, but so was the decay of the guards he had taken out.

  She wasn’t worried about the humans, but the vampire was formidable. She’d keep an eye out for him. Nikko was formidable, too. The Rev had upped his strength, his senses, his attitude—his libido. A warm flush washed across her cheeks. Last night was, damn, it was crazy sexy. What had started as a simple push to get him to return her necklace had turned into a—well, it was crazy. And she had no regrets. They both had gotten something out of the deal. Her bonus, the necklace.

  Selena pushed the heated moments of last night deep into her memory banks for later. Her focus now was 100 percent on extracting Noslov.

  Her sharp gaze swept the perimeter again, this time for a sign of Nikko. He would show up soon enough. She could have told him not to waste the time and jet fuel. She had no doubt in her mind who would walk away with Noslov. Selena turned and strode away from the building she had been standing against, turning at the next street corner and then down the alley running parallel to the street behind the buildings. The sun’s receding rays had long since disappeared.

  The thud of two feet landing on the cobblestones behind her alerted her to company. His blood scent revealed his identity.

  “This is none of your business, vampire,” she softly said.

  “You are very much my business, slayer.”

  She nodded and turned slowly to face him. Nikko’s accomplice from Lost Souls. Her nose twitched. A young vampire, but a deadly one. Arrogant, too. As she lay dying in Vegas’s body, she’d heard him refuse Nikko’s pleas for her life. “Have you told Rurik my identity?”

  “I will—eventually.”

  “Let me guess, you’ll snitch after you get what you want from me?”

  “He is my king, I am his enforcer. Regardless of what I get from you, I will enforce the rules of the Order.”

  Selena quirked her lips. “Yeah, the king thing. I hear you, but I happen to be in possession of some information your king would sell his soulless self for.”

  The vampire’s blue eyes reddened. “You have broken cardinal rules, rules that if ignored would set off a chain reaction of violence among the Others. War and death would follow. You must be punished.”

  The stones around her neck warmed as she silently called to them for strength. She could take the vampire. The power of the nanorians, combined with the Rev-infused vampire blood coursing through her veins, gave her superior power. “You realize I possess the power to destroy you where you stand.” She took a step toward him. “In fact, I can destroy ten of you.”

  “You may be able to destroy me, but you will not stand a chance against Rurik.”

  Selena smiled seductively. She cranked up the pheromones and slowly sauntered toward him. “Your consort is watching. What do you think she’ll do when she sees you kiss me?”

  “She will understand you have used your daemon powers to seduce me.”

  Selena threw her head back and laughed. “You disappoint me, vampire. I thought you had more fight in you than that.”

  He moved with blinding speed. The air whooshed from Selena’s lungs as he slammed her hard against the stone wall of the building behind her. The nanorians flared, as did her reaction. She hurled him from her. He went flying across the alley, but slowed his momentum midway, then rose high into the air and, like a missile, dove at her.

  Selena shoved her hands, palms open, straight at him. The force of her power sent him sprawling back into the brick and mortar of the building behind him with a sickening crunch. She knew it would only stun him. She strode toward him as he shook his head and staggered to standing. “Believe me when I tell you this: If Rurik and your kind are to survive, he must leave me alone. I am the key to your survival.”

  She turned and started toward the fire ladder.

  The vampire dropped in front of her. “How are you, a rogue half-breed, key to my survival?”

  “Only I have the power and the knowledge to destroy the piece of crap who schemes to take control of the Order by destroying the very thing you need to survive.”

  His deadly eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “Blood. Your kind needs blood to survive. And your blood source is …?” She raised her eyebrows. “Use that vampire superbrain of yours to figure it out.” She pushed past him.

  He grabbed her upper arm and spun her around to face him. “Are you saying there is a plot to destroy humanity?”

  She yanked her arm from his brutal grip and turned toward the building Noslov was housed in. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one, big guy.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Now, do me a favor and keep your friends off my back until I get in; then it’s every man and woman for themselves.”

  She knew he would not stop her. Too much of what she had imparted was feasible, and though she was a rogue slayer, there was some honor among the thieves that they were. She grabbed hold of the fire ladder and hoisted herself up to the closest rooftop. She ducked just as two armed men on the building next door turned.

  As stealthy as a shadow, she crouched, making her way toward them. In just the few moments she had been on the rooftop, darkness had completely settled over Paris. Selena picked up a piece of debris from the roof and tossed it over the closest man’s head. He moved toward the noise, while the other hurried to his side to investigate. She leapt into the air and came down on both of them. In two quick moves, she snapped their necks. She divested them of their weapons, slinging one AK over each shoulder. She wouldn’t need them, but they would make anyone she encountered think twice before coming after her.

  Selena moved with shadow stealth to the next rooftop. Three floors down and directly below her, she heard Noslov speaking in Arabic, outlining the terms of the auction. Jesus. With Muslim dictatorships falling like dead trees all over the Middle East and North Africa, any number of deposed dictators might consider using a dirty bomb as leverage to regain power.

  A new urgency took hold of her. Easily, she took out the three guards on the rooftop. She jumped to the next rooftop and dealt with the two there. With the rooftops clear, she would be able to easily access Noslov. Just as she was ready to climb down the back side of the building, the radios her victims wore erupted with chatter. Russian voices alerted them that the front of the building had been breached.

  Johnny’s covert US government agency friends. Had to be. Those two men out front, plus the vampire and his consort. And Johnny. She could smell him. They had more opposition to get through than she did. She had to hurry if she was going to get to Noslov first and extract him—alive.

  Like a lizard, she climbed down the rough stone wall, then launched herself gymnast-style through the only window to the room where Noslov sat behind an enormous desk frantically typing on his laptop. Selena landed on her feet as glass shattered around her.

  Noslov stood, slamming the lid shut on the computer.

  “Step back or I’ll shoot you into a piroshki.”

  He raised his hands and put them behind his head. “I will pay you triple what you are being paid,” he calmly offered.

  Selena stepped forward and grabbed his laptop, then yanked its power source from the wall. As she stuffed it down the back of her jacket, she said, “Tell me where the cask is, and you have a deal.”

  “Vat cask do you speak of?”

  “Shut up, Noslov.” Selena snatched the Russian’s cell phone off his desk and slipped it into her jacket pocket. “Come around the desk slowly. That’s it.” As he rounded the corner, he flung the dagger he had hidden behind him at her. Selena caught it in midair by the tip, instantly she hurled it back at h
im. It sliced off half of his left ear and stuck into the wall behind him.

  He screamed, grabbing the bloody stump.

  “Don’t fuck with me.”

  She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt as he bolted for the door.

  It crashed open from the hallway, and the two dudes and the vampire’s consort from outside burst in, catching Noslov between them.

  Blood streaming down the side of his face, Noslov shouted out in Russian for reinforcements. Knowing his calls were futile, he slammed his heels hard on the wood floor, and two blades popped out of the toes of his leather shoes. In a tight roundhouse kick, he nailed one of the men in the shin. As he came down, Selena lit up the wall behind the intruders with the two AKs, forcing the operatives out of the room. The scent of new blood sprang into the air. Someone had caught a round. She wasn’t going to stay and ask whom and say sorry. Not her problem, they should not have challenged her. She grabbed Noslov by the scruff of the neck and hauled him backward toward the window.

  Nikko stood at the base of the Sacré-Coeur. Selena’s sultry scent overrode every other scent in the City of Light. He sensed her excitement. Other familiar smells infiltrated his senses. Cassidy and Cross. Stone and Satch. And blood. Satriano’s blood. His lips curled back from his fangs and he took off. As he rounded the street corner to the opening of the alley, he saw Selena climbing down a fire ladder with a struggling Noslov dangling from her right hand. She coldcocked him, then slung him over her shoulder. She hit the alley, running straight toward Nikko, and stopped in her tracks when she saw him.

  By the nonchalant look on her face, she wasn’t surprised to see him. But he had to admit, he was surprised to see her decked out in smooth black leather from head to toe with the Russian slung over her shoulder. She reminded him of a sleek black she-panther trotting off with her prey. Part of him respected the hell out of her, part of him wanted to fuck her on the spot, and part of him was furious she had gotten to Noslov first. Where the hell was his team?