Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance

by Ashley Jennifer

  Suddenly, Asher’s large hand enclosed hers, his thumb caressing her skin in a non-stranger-ish, almost intimate way. Twinges of electricity shot up her arm, making all the little hairs stand on end. She stiffened, expecting to feel a sudden loss of energy again, but there seemed to be a barrier there now. His fingers and palm were warm and callused. And very reassuring. It made her feel stronger, not weaker, like they might actually make it through this as long as they stayed together.

  With their heads close, the man and woman were whisper-arguing. Maybe some small talk would convince them that she knew nothing, and they’d move on. “Any idea how big it was on the Richter scale? Do they know yet?”

  The woman looked slightly amused and tapped the stylus on her lips. She and her partner made eye contact again and something silent passed between them. “You think that was an earthquake?”

  She took from her response that it wasn’t.

  Before she could answer, the man interjected, speaking for the first time. “It was a bomb. The fucking Cascadians again.”

  Now it was Asher’s turn to stiffen. His nostrils flared slightly and his pupils were pinprick small.

  “A bomb?” When she’d felt the rumble down in the wine cellar and heard the noise, she’d assumed earthquake. It hadn’t crossed her mind that it was a bomb.

  “Witnesses saw a man running from the scene less than thirty seconds before the explosion.” The man stared at Asher as if he suspected him. “He wouldn’t have gotten far. May even be hurt.”

  Was it possible that he had set the bomb? Could he be a Cascadian terrorist? Olivia considered the possibility, rolled it around in her head. If he was her enemy, then that meant these two were her allies. That assessment didn’t make sense, either. It felt as if she and Asher were on the same side. Of the same mindset. He could’ve thrown her under the bus and told these two the truth about her in order to get away, but he hadn’t.

  As much as she distrusted this stranger, her intuition told her he wasn’t responsible. What it did tell her was that these army people were dangerous. Not Asher.

  The woman asked Olivia for her name and address. Since they already knew her first name, she gave them a fake last name and address. If they went so far as to cross-check it with Marco’s records later, she’d be long gone. As soon as she got home, she was packing up her things and leaving again.

  “Okay, got it. And your name?”

  “Asher.”

  “Is that your first or last name?”

  “First.”

  Her stylus was poised over her screen. “Last name.”

  “Smith,” he said.

  “Spell that, please.”

  Panic flashed in his eyes so quickly that when it was gone, Olivia couldn’t be sure it was ever there in the first place. Must not be his real last name either. That was another thing they had in common.

  She gave his hand two little squeezes for encouragement.

  “It’s just like it sounds,” he told the woman.

  She looked up from her screen. Her partner leaned slightly forward at the waist as if he were ready to pounce. “There are several spellings.”

  Could he really not know how this common last name was spelled?

  Olivia debated jumping in and answering for him, but she’d done that once already and worried it would look fishy.

  Maybe if she got him started, he could figure it out himself. She moved their clasped hands out of sight of the army interrogators. With her pointer finger, she traced out the letter S on his palm.

  “S.” She could almost hear the relief in his voice.

  When he didn’t continue, she scratched out an M, holding her breath that he wouldn’t think it was a W.

  “M,” he said.

  The woman turned her attention back to her handheld. Olivia gave him two little squeezes. He squeezed back, which she interpreted as needing more help. She traced the rest of the letters, thankful that he’d picked a short name, and he slowly recited them aloud.

  “And your address?” the woman asked.

  When he hesitated again, Olivia had enough. “Can’t you see he needs medical attention? He’s lost a lot of blood and is obviously lightheaded and having trouble concentrating.”

  The woman was not impressed. She held her ground and repeated her question.

  Olivia sighed loudly. “It’s the same as mine. We live together.”

  Draping his arm over her shoulder, she ignored her own exhaustion and rose from the stool. She was going to walk Asher out of here, and these AIU agents were going to let her.

  The woman reluctantly stepped out of the way.

  “Come on, honey,” Olivia said, smiling up into Asher’s face. “Let’s go find you a doctor.”

  CHAPTER 5

  “Okay, I’m fine now,” Asher said as they made their way slowly down the sidewalk. He tried to shrug her arm away but she was having none of it.

  “Like hell you are,” Olivia replied.

  The further they got from the explosion site, the more the chaos and noise faded behind them. The walk to his car was taking longer than Asher would’ve liked, but his ribs and collarbone still hurt every time he took a step. He tried whistling for Conry, but because he was using his opposite hand, it came out more like a forceful exhale.

  “Here. Let me try.” Olivia made a C with her thumb and ring finger and lifted it to her mouth. The sharp burst rang through his head like a gunshot.

  “Bloody hell, woman,” he said, giving her an are-you-kidding-me glare. He would never have guessed she could whistle like that.

  She looked pleased and a little mischievous. “What?”

  “On top of all my other injuries, now have to deal with pierced eardrums, too? ”

  She groaned. “Such a baby.”

  It hadn’t been his idea that Olivia come with him, though he hadn’t protested too much when she insisted on helping him find Conry, but he’d refused to let her fix the rest of his injuries. The healing she’d done for him in addition to healing Monique had taken a lot out of her already. He was good enough. He’d heal the rest of the way on his own.

  “I can’t get my car out of the garage now, anyway,” had been her argument. “So you’re going to drive me home. Besides, we’re living together, right? Shouldn’t we at least make it look like we’re going to the same place in case anyone’s watching?”

  “Thanks for what you did back there. Not only for the healing, but for telling them we lived together.” He’d been trying to give them the information on his false identification papers, but with the added pressure of needing to keep Olivia’s secret hidden as well, everything kept getting mixed up in his head. It was pathetic, really, given how many times he’d had to produce it before. It should’ve been easy.

  “Under the circumstances, being your fake girlfriend was the least I could do.”

  They walked along in silence for a few minutes, pausing only to call for Conry. Olivia had a smudge on her cheek, bloodstains on her dress, and her hair was tangled and messy, and yet he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so completely captivated by a woman.

  “Why do you hide your ability to heal?” he asked. Could she be afraid to use them? And then it occurred to him. “Or is it them you’re afraid of?”

  Her breath hitched and she turned to face him. With the light reflecting in her eyes like this, he noticed for the first time that they were mismatched. One a greenish hazel and the other brown. It wasn’t very noticeable, but with the light just right, you could tell they were different colors.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.

  So she’d guessed he was Cascadian. Telling her a lie would make sense right now, but he owed her the truth. Or at least as much of it as he could share. “Not really.”

  “But you didn’t have anything to do with the bomb.”

  “No,” he said simply, treating her statement as a question.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  He debated telling he
r more about himself, like who he was and why he was here. Part of him craved a deeper connection with her. It felt good—really good—to have shared secrets with her already. Back at the explosion site, it had been the two of them against the world and he liked it. They’d made a good team, playing off each other so easily. But another part of him didn’t see a good reason for taking this any further than he already had. He couldn’t afford to build any relationships here. At least, not the romantic kind.

  The streets in this part of town were deserted. Few cars and hardly any people. It was as if the explosion site were a black hole and all normal city activity had been sucked into it.

  She kicked a small stone off the curb and watched it roll into a grate. “So you want to know why I hide my ability?”

  “Yes,” he said, surprised that she was willing to tell him now.

  “Let’s just say that if the army finds out what I’m capable of doing, my life will not be my own anymore. And that’s putting it mildly.”

  “What will they do?”

  “Anything they want.” She pretended to be examining her nails. “They’d rip me away from my life and force me to work for them, just like they did with my brother.”

  He knew the Army used those with Talents, but he hadn’t realized they were given no choice.

  On his side of the portal, people looked up to the warriors of the Iron Guild. They were protectors, risking their lives to keep people safe. He considered it an honor—all of them did—to be one of a chosen few. Didn’t she consider their army the same way?

  He thought about how little time he’d spent on the other side of the portal, but there wasn’t much for him there. His job was over here.

  “Is there no honor in that?” he asked.

  “Honor?” She laughed. “Honor is something you earn through your actions. No, there is no honor in working for the army. Not according to my family.”

  She started to walk away, but he reached out, slid his hand down her arm, and stopped her from going any further. She looked at him, her gaze starting from where he was touching her then trailing up to his face. Behind her strength, he saw a great sorrow in her eyes.

  “Wait,” he said softly. “Tell me what happened.”

  She turned away. He’d pushed her too hard.

  “Are we getting close to your car?” she asked, changing the subject again. She was good at that.

  Dropping his hand from her arm, he cursed himself for asking so many questions. He, of all people, should understand the need to keep secrets.

  “It’s parked on the next block.”

  Clearly, it was too hurtful a memory for her to tell a virtual stranger. He wasn’t good at deep stuff. Should’ve just kept the conversation light. As soon as they found Conry, he’d drop her off at her house, thank her for helping him, and that would be it.

  They walked to the next intersection in silence. When they stepped off the curb and into the crosswalk, she surprised him when she started talking again.

  “Vince was an amazing artist. Amazing. And I’m not just saying that because we’re brother and sister. Several top art schools had been wooing him when he was only a sophomore in high school.” She told him about a big art contest her brother had won that drew him national attention. It was clear she was very proud of him. “After…afterward…when I was going through his things, I found a series of charcoal drawings of a young woman that were so achingly beautiful. I have them framed in my apartment.”

  After what, he wanted to ask, but didn’t. “His girlfriend?”

  “I…I don’t know. I never saw her before.”

  The sudden wail of a siren came from the next intersection. A Night Patrol vehicle screeched around the corner, its flashing lights illuminating both of them. Olivia sucked in a breath and her eyes went wide.

  He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Keep walking. They’re heading to the explosion site, and we’re just two people trying to get back to our car.”

  The patrol zoomed past and Olivia exhaled. “You’re used to it, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged but didn’t answer. He liked hearing her talk. There was a melodious quality to her voice and a slight lisp when she said certain sounds. He’d wait to hear it, and then, when he did, it was like tiny reward. He found it more than a little charming. He could see why Conry had been so smitten by her. He was feeling the same way.

  “I take it Vince didn’t go on to art school?” He wanted to know more about her before he took her home and exited her life.

  She shook her head. “His Talent manifested itself when we were teenagers. We’re twins,” she added, evidently sensing his raised eyebrows.

  A strand of hair stuck to her lips. Without thinking, he ran the back of his finger down the side of her face to release it. “And then what happened?”

  She took a deep breath that came out ragged. He thought for a moment that she might be crying, but he didn’t notice any tears. “The army found out about him somehow and came to the house. We never saw him after…after that night. We did get letters from him at first. Poetry, mostly, but it was clear that they were being monitored. Words and blocks of text were blacked out. Then one day, they just stopped coming. It’s been ten years now and I still miss him.”

  He couldn’t imagine how hard that must’ve been. The army was very good at tearing loved ones apart and destroying lives. “Where did they take him?”

  She shrugged. “To a top-secret training facility, but we never heard where.”

  “Wasn’t there anything your mother and father could do?”

  “My father?” The small noise in her throat was either a stifled laugh or a choke. “There wasn’t anything he could do. They killed him the night my brother was taken.”

  ***

  As soon as they got to the grey Mustang parked on Olive Street, they checked the news stations and heard that the HOT was going to be closed for a few days. Olivia wasn’t getting back to her apartment any time soon.

  “Good.” Asher groaned as he carefully shifted his bruised body. “Guess that means you can drive me around to look for my dog.”

  “I don’t mind healing you, Ash. Really. It’s no trouble.”

  “No.” He’d seen how much it had taken out of her to help the woman from the club. He’d heal fine on his own.

  For several hours, they drove down every street and into every neighborhood within a five-mile radius of the explosion and still didn’t find Conry. Asher was trying not to lose hope, but things weren’t looking good. He hadn’t wanted to consider it before, but maybe something had happened to Conry in the blast.

  “We’re stopping?” He looked over at Olivia as she pulled the grey Mustang to the side of the road near the circular entrance to Volunteer Park.

  She turned in the driver’s seat to face him. Was she planning to give him a reality check? Turning away, he braced himself to hear her say they should stop searching.

  Of course she couldn’t know what that dog meant to him. Not only had Conry saved his life a few times on this side of the portal, but he was there for Asher on the other side when no one else was. No, he would not give up. Ever. That dog was his best friend and meant more to him than most people.

  “Do you mind if I say a little prayer?” she asked softly.

  His head snapped up. “A prayer?”

  “I didn’t know if that would make you uncomfortable. That’s why I’m asking.”

  He wasn’t a religious man, but it didn’t bother him. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  Folding her hands in her lap, she bowed her head. “Dear Saint Anthony, please come ’round. Conry’s been lost and can’t be found. He’s a very special dog, so please return him to us.” She opened her eyes.

  Asher snorted. “That’s a prayer?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I know it had some rhyming issues, but I think my point was clear. Trust me.”

  He liked how her mismatched eyes lit up when he teased her. “So who is this Saint Anthony?”

 
“He’s the patron saint of lost things,” she explained. “When you ask for his help, he’s supposed to find what’s lost. Or at least that’s what my Catholic mom always says. Can’t find your keys, your cell phone, your glasses? You ask him for help.” She reached behind her neck, unclasped a necklace he hadn’t noticed she’d been wearing and held it up. A small, round medallion swung from the thin gold chain. “This is my Saint Anthony pendant. I want you to have it till we find him.”

  What if he didn’t find Conry right away? How would he get it back to her? “But—”

  “No arguing,” she said, as if she had been expecting this. “I insist.” She leaned over the console and held it out. The pendant dangled from her hand like a hypnotist’s necklace, flashing in the light from a nearby streetlamp. He was struck by the fact that by accepting it, he was crossing an unseen threshold with her. No longer would she be a beautiful stranger who had briefly helped him. He would have something of hers that he’d need to return, thus ensuring they’d see each other again.

  With his good hand, he reached for it, but she shook her head. “No, let me.”

  “Okay.”

  Her lips were parted and her breath fluttered over his jaw as she put the chain around his neck. It was all he could do to keep from kissing her, to cup the back of her head and pull her mouth to his. He held back. There was a vulnerability about her that made him want to protect her. But the last time he’d brought a woman into his life for more than just a quick roll in the sack, it had ended in disaster. He’d vowed never to let it happen again.

  “Sorry,” she said. “This lobster clasp is really small.”

  “No problem,” he said as he stared at the tiny pulse at the base of her throat. “Where did you get it?”

  “My mom gave it to me so that I would never get lost.” She gave a little shrug of one shoulder. “She worries about me a lot.”

  He was touched that she would lend it to him. A piece of her hair tickled his cheek, but he didn’t want to brush it away. What he really wanted to do was to run his fingers over her jaw to see if her skin was as velvety smooth as it looked. He would kiss her there, then on that little hollow below her ear.