The Mech Who Loved Me

by Bec McMaster

  Sixteen

  WORD HAD GOTTEN round. Ava made sure of it, and when most of the Rogues were gathered in Malloryn's study the following afternoon, she handed out the small information leaflets she'd spent the night creating. The second the Duke of Malloryn arrived, she was starting this meeting.

  With or without Liam Kincaid.

  "Caterpillar mushroom?" Gemma asked, looking at Ava's neat notes with the expression of a woman who'd spent too many hours hearing about ferns and orchids. "This sounds fascinating, Ava. I can hardly wait."

  Charlie nudged her. "Don't worry, the interesting part comes when Ava tells you what it does to a blue blood."

  Suddenly Ava became the focus of every set of eyes in the room; Jack, the baroness, Herbert, and Gemma. Charlie shot her a wink.

  The baroness cleared her throat. She'd already turned over the page, and was miles ahead of the others. "Blood and ashes, Ava. Are you certain?"

  Ava shook her head. "Not until I get my hands upon some of the caterpillar mushroom and test it myself, but... fairly certain. We think it's poisonous to blue bloods and dhampir."

  And just as she dropped that explosive revelation, the door burst open. Kincaid strode inside, scowling over the top of a good day's growth of black beard, his blue eyes bloodshot, and wincing at the afternoon light that filtered through the window. He saw them all and swayed. "Jaysus. Thought you wanted me, Ava?"

  Truer words had never been spoken. Or at least they had, if he wasn't planning on murdering blue bloods, and reeking of ale.

  Where the hell has he been? She'd spent five minutes knocking on his bedroom door this morning.

  Had he even spent the night there? The argument echoed loudly in her ears, but she couldn't ask him what he'd done after she stormed off.

  What if he'd gone to another woman? He'd been so angry, and so had she.

  "I thought we all needed an update," Ava said primly, pointing to a chair near the window. "How on earth did you manage to imbibe so much between now and last night?"

  Kincaid sank into the chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I'm not drunk anymore, but could you keep that particularly strident note out of your voice?"

  Strident? Her temper blazed.

  "I believe this is the aftereffect of imbibing," Gemma noted, with no small amount of smugness. "I must note I've seen livelier-looking statues, Kincaid. You smell like a brewery—and a woman's perfume, if I dare to breathe a little deeper."

  A woman's perfume? Ava froze. She could only smell liquor.

  Kincaid shot Gemma his darkest scowl. "Seem to recall a morning when I didn't mention what time you staggered in—considering it was well after dawn, and you were last seen in the company of—"

  "Truce?" Gemma broke in.

  Kincaid gave her that particularly evil smile. "I was pulling my punches too. But agreed. Wouldn't want to corrupt innocent ears." This, with a glance at Ava. "And the perfume you smell is probably my cousin's."

  Ava shoved one of her handwritten information pamphlets at him.

  If she heard the word “innocent” one more time....

  And now she took a delicate sniff; there was definitely perfume lingering on his skin. Orla's?

  He wouldn't lie. He never had. It was one of the things she liked so much about him, but logic was failing her today. There was a visceral surge of pure fury lighting through her veins. She wanted to yell at him again, and there was no damned reason for it beyond.... Ava blinked. Was she jealous?

  The duke finally arrived, handing his top hat and coat to Herbert. "I trust this is important," Malloryn said, and suddenly Ava felt a little overwhelmed.

  What if it wasn't? What if she was only conjuring a case, putting a theory to a handful of innocuous clues....

  "It's important," Kincaid said, clasping his hands behind his head and exhaling. "But I think Ava should be the one to do the honors. It was her discovery."

  Carefully, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Few people championed her, and despite their argument last night, she shot him an undecided look, and then cleared her throat. "If you'll examine the information I wrote for all of you," she said, and then continued to fill them in on everything she and Kincaid had found.

  When she'd finished, you could have heard a pin drop in the room. Ava cleared her throat, trying to read Malloryn's reaction.

  "This is what killed Zero?" Gemma whispered, looking ill.

  The duke finally lowered his pamphlet and met Ava's eyes. "You're right. This is important." Then he was on his feet, taking over the room. "Who else knows of this?"

  "Dr. Gibson," she replied. "From the Nighthawks. He was the one who performed the initial autopsy. He knows it's some sort of serum or elixir that was injected into Mr. Thomas, but that's all. Garrett is aware something is killing blue bloods, and I'm sure a few other Nighthawks suspect there's a problem. They're not stupid."

  The duke shot Kincaid a hard look, and he shook his head sharply.

  He hadn't mentioned it. Yet.

  "Then we keep it that way." Malloryn included them all in a heated look. "If what Ava says is true, then this information has dire repercussions for the entire country. This could mean civil war, or at worst, a bloodbath."

  "And who's behind the murders of Mr. Thomas and the others?" Gemma asked. "Someone clearly murdered the major, but who? Are the two cases connected? Are they aware we're onto them? Were they watching the major? Or were they following Ava and Kincaid? Was it simply coincidence?"

  "Surely it's not Ulbricht," the baroness protested. "He wouldn't be so stupid as to dabble in a poison that could kill blue bloods! If the humanists get their hands on this, they'll murder the Echelon. Ulbricht lives and breathes the Echelon!"

  "We have peace now," Gemma interrupted. "The humanists wouldn't dare use this—"

  "They would," Kincaid said sharply, and all voices died off. "They wouldn't hesitate. You only have to look at the recent riots to know there's still malcontent among the general population. They wanted the draining factories gone, and the blood tax abolished, and they're not happy both issues remain."

  "Without the blood taxes, the streets would be awash in blood," Malloryn retorted.

  Kincaid held his hands up. "I know that. Doesn't mean I like it, but I know that. Others... are not as inclined to be logical."

  Ava cleared her throat again. "We can argue as much as we like about the potential repercussions, but I think we need a plan of attack. Clearly, someone knows what this caterpillar mushroom does, and they're using it to murder blue blood members of the population. Considering Zero was potentially murdered using this same substance, we can include the dhampir on our lists of suspects."

  "Kincaid and Ava, I think it wise if you both return to the major's store and search it thoroughly. Major Winthrop might have contacts among the black market trade of rare herbs. We need to track down everyone who is remotely connected to bringing this substance into the country, and lock them down until we know how many people are aware of what this product does. Contact the Nighthawks and have them assist you in closing down the scene—tell the locals it's a murder investigation if you must, but nothing else. Charlie, you can go with them," Malloryn said.

  He was taking control of her investigation. Ava bit her lip, but nodded. At least she was still included.

  "Gemma, I want you to make a move on the information I gave you yesterday," Malloryn instructed obliquely. "We've got a lead on Ulbricht, and I want him found."

  "You have a lead?" Ava blurted.

  Gemma gathered herself, looking pale. "One of Malloryn's other spies got his hands on one of the Sons of Gilead. We need to question him, but he might know Ulbricht's whereabouts, or at least he'll know how to get in touch with his SOG contact."

  "Report to the baroness. She can contact me if necessary." Malloryn turned to fetch his hat and coat from Herbert. "I need to call an emergency meeting with the Council of Dukes and the queen."

  * * *

  They sent Charlie ahead t
o the Nighthawks guild, as he could move faster than they could, then set out for Major Winthrop's shop. Ava wanted to lock down the scene before anyone else could contaminate it.

  Ava kept her manner purely professional when they arrived, checking the locks on the shop doors and waiting for the Nighthawks to arrive to set up a perimeter before she allowed herself to examine the shop. She didn't like their chances of finding anything. Whoever cleaned up after the bodies yesterday had done a meticulous job.

  The Nighthawks finally arrived, and as predicted, there wasn't much evidence left within the major's emporium. Ava worked mechanically, her heart feeling a little heavy in her chest, though her peripheral senses were desperately aware of Kincaid.

  "Are you going to speak to me?" Kincaid finally demanded, when the silence clearly grew too much for him.

  "I don't particularly have much to say."

  "Ava."

  She turned, brushing a curl off her face. "Yes?"

  Kincaid stared down at her with an uneasy expression. "I'm sorry. You were right. It's a more complicated situation than I imagined. I wouldn't tell anyone about Black Vein."

  Ava swallowed. "But do you see how that felt for me to hear those things from your lips?"

  Hands cupped her cheeks and he lifted her chin until their eyes met. The dark scowl on his face was back. "I'm an utter shite, Ava. All those things I said about blue bloods. I didn't mean to hurt you. All I could see in the moment was everything I've suffered over the years, everything I've seen destroy the people I love—"

  "It's all right," she said. "I know you have your own demons, and you couldn't have known."

  "But I shouldn't have taken them out on you." Kincaid sighed. "And I know everything you went through; you didn't choose this. But you've made the best you could of the situation, and a part of me is in awe of that. I'm sorry."

  "Apology accepted."

  He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and it was a strange moment, for she didn't know why.

  "Truce?" she asked, curling her hands around his wrists.

  They stood there like that for a long moment. "Truce," Kincaid replied gruffly.

  "Then let us finish cataloguing Major Winthrop's belongings, so we can send anything we think might be evidence on to the guild."

  For while she might have accepted his apology, her heart still felt a little battered and bruised.

  * * *

  He'd apologized. They'd called a truce, but something hot gnawed at Kincaid's gut as they finally finished up, and sent Charlie back to Malloryn's while the Nighthawks dispersed.

  Ava locked up the Emporium, her head bowed and her manner still quiet. He hated seeing her like this. She was guarding herself, and he knew he was to blame and—

  "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, knowing she'd recognize the phrase.

  "No thoughts. I'm just tired."

  "And hurt."

  A flash of green glanced in his direction, and he realized he'd hit the nail on the head. Ava looked down. "I just keep thinking, where is this going?"

  Hopefully someplace private, for the look in her eyes scared him. That look was asking questions, and doubting the answers. "Nothing's changed."

  "I know," she whispered, and then looked up guiltily. "But I like you. I do."

  "I like you too. Very much so."

  And yet he felt like he'd said the wrong thing, for she looked down, nibbling on her bottom lip.

  If they weren't standing in the middle of the street then he might have taken steps to chase away that doubt.

  Kincaid looked around. Nobody was looking, but it didn't mean they wouldn't draw attention. Capturing her wrist, he drew her into an alley. "Ava." He clasped her hand. "What are you thinking?"

  Ava looked up. "That I want you to kiss me."

  Normally he wouldn't hesitate. But there was her recent heartbreak over Byrnes’s marriage to consider, and her innocence. There were doubts inside him, doubts that grew the more he came to care for her. And maybe they needed to talk right now more than they needed to kiss. Because she was clearly hiding something, and hell, so was he. "Why?"

  "Why? Perhaps because when you kiss me, it chases away all the doubts. Perhaps because we argued, and I'm not certain where we stand right now."

  "Nothing's changed," he repeated. "But the question is, why me? What doubts? Do you think I don't feel them too? Jaysus, Ava, you decided you wanted to lose your virginity, and I was the first person you saw when you turned around. Do you think that doesn't play on my mind? There's a part of me that wonders if I'm being used to scratch an itch just because you're suddenly curious, or because the man you thought you loved married someone else."

  Tell me why you want me. Me, damn you, and not just a man to kiss. Not just any man.

  Ava sucked in a sharp breath. "That's not what this is."

  "No?" he challenged. "Then what is it? You were in love with another man." He wasn't going to let her sidestep the question.

  "In love?" she blurted. "I didn't even know what love meant!"

  "And you do now?"

  Ava's pretty rosebud mouth opened and shut, her eyes darting to and fro. And something inside him squeezed, a horrified, breathless feeling. No. No. It was safer to keep her at arm's length and guard his heart against her. Safer to say her heart belonged to another, and he would never get his chance at it.

  Because then he would never lose it.

  Then he could never break hers.

  "I don't know," she whispered, as if the realization of what stood between them physically hurt her. "I wanted something that didn't exist, and now I'm staring back at it, and wondering what it all meant. Because my feelings for Byrnes... are very confusing right now."

  "Confusing?"

  "I don't know what I felt for him!" she suddenly cried. "Because if that was love, then what is this? For this feels... like something more. Like something else. This feels like you're dragging me to the edge of a cliff and asking me to trust you when you push me off it, and it feels like you're taking a blindfold off my eyes and pushing me out into a wondrous world I never even knew was there, and you're there at my side every step of the way, a port of call, my shelter in any storm. It's... a maelstrom of emotions I do not know how to process. It makes me feel both safe, and yet so, so uncertain." She tucked a curl behind her ear, looking at him earnestly. "It scares me. It really scares me, because I don't know if I'm the only one who feels this way. And I keep telling myself to be careful, and not go any further along this path, because this ends when the case does."

  Jaysus. Kincaid's heart kicked in his chest. He'd wanted a sign she'd chosen him, and then she'd kicked his feet out from under him.

  Ava turned and paced, pressing her fingers to her temples. "I sorry. I shouldn't have said that—"

  "It was exactly what I needed to hear." He stepped forward and caught her wrist, drawing her into his arms, kissing her, clutching her so tightly her spine arched and he felt her weight fall into his arms as he lifted her off her feet—

  Ava gasped. Then both hands met his chest. And she was rather stronger than he'd expected, for he slammed back against the nearest brick wall, his arms flung wide and the breath leaving him. Heat curled through his lower abdomen. Hell. Those emerald eyes of hers were gleaming with determination, and he found himself facing down a tempest in muslin. A hand met his chest, and when she took a forceful step forward, he found himself looking down at her. Acres of skirts hemmed him in, and Kincaid stopped breathing.

  Practical, stubborn, and quiet-natured, every now and then he caught a glimmer of the passion within her—most often when they argued—and it made him want to keep pushing her, to see just how far that passion extended.

  But Ava in a temper?

  That was temptation indeed.

  "Kiss me," he told her.

  And she didn't hesitate. Grabbing him by the coat collar, she stretched up on her toes and claimed his mouth, her tongue dancing against his. Kincaid's arms wrapped around her, and he lifte
d her off her feet again, drinking in the taste of her. A desperate, furious storm of passion engulfed them both.

  To know he was the first one to show her this made him a little feral with need. But they hadn't finished the conversation. And he'd kissed her deliberately, to steer her away from demanding his feelings, but that wasn't fair.

  Kincaid forced himself to draw a line in the sand. One to keep them on firm ground, before he lost his head and did something he'd regret.

  Like press her up against the bricks in this alley and go to his knees in front of her, sliding his hands up her silken stockings, and wrapping them around the backs of her calves—

  He drew back with a groan. Ava's eyes were so very wide, her body trembling against him. She licked her lips, almost as if tasting the warmth of his mouth, but he pressed his finger against those lips, forestalling her from reaching for him again.

  Because maybe he wouldn't have the strength of will to do this again.

  "If I'm being honest, then neither of us is where we were when we set out to do this," he said hoarsely. "I like you, Ava. A lot. And you're not the only one who keeps telling yourself this has a beginning and an ending. And yet here we are." He looked down into eyes so very green he felt like he was falling into them.

  "Here we are," Ava whispered, and her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  "I can't stay away from you. And I don't know if I want to. But there are things you need to know. I do know there is an ending in front of us. There has to be, but it's not for the reason you think."

  Ava slowly looked up, and he caressed her face.

  "Ava, I can't give you a future. Not won't. But can't." His breath caught. "If I could... then maybe... maybe I would. Maybe I'd be that man."

  Ava wrapped her arms around herself as she drew back, shaking her head slowly, as if she'd finally realized what he was telling her. "What do you mean?"

  "What's the one thing I don't like talking about?"

  The color was slowly beginning to drain from her face. "Why do you wear leg braces? Why the girdle around your waist? What's going on?"

  And she deserved to know.

  "It's a muscular disorder," he told her softly, steeling himself. "My brother had it, my uncle... and now me." He caught his breath, seeing Will's grave. "I thought I was safe. My brother began to show the signs when he was thirteen. Ian began at one-and-twenty, and I was almost six-and-twenty the first time my legs went out from beneath me. You keep thinking: did I just trip? Was I clumsy? Or is it something more sinister? But I can't deny it any longer. I'm the last victim of the Kincaid curse."