by Billi Jean
Hunter exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath, but squinted behind him.
“Hey, you okay there? You’re a little too relieved that worked—”
“I’m good,” she said. “We made it, right?” she shouted, clearly not about to talk to him about her obvious relief they’d both made it through—intact.
He let it go—along with the hundred other things he wanted to talk to her about—and scanned the large compound. He’d seen it on satellite and read the file at least a hundred times, but up close it was impressive—and deserted, he hoped.
“Is this the place you found Markee’s dad?” he yelled.
Hunter’s delicate shoulders stiffened. “Yes, this is it. Come on.”
He hauled her back to face him. “Is it deserted?”
“As far as I know. Didn’t you say this was where we would start?”
Feeling ridiculous—not something he was used to experiencing—he motioned for her to go ahead to the buildings. She had to be cold in her T-shirt and thin pants. What was he thinking, keeping her out here talking?
She hunched down and ran for the gate, which stood open. Once inside, the wind didn’t hit so brutally. He followed her, scanning the perimeter as they went.
“This is where we decided to go, right?” she asked as she ran.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I hadn’t counted on some recon time to plot this out while airborne instead of your instant doorway to Alaska. You know? Maybe give me some time to check to make sure it was still empty via satellite feed.”
She glanced around them constantly—as alert as he was, he noted with another dose of admiration.
“Well, it’s empty, or we’d know by now.” She scanned the low, long concrete structure on their right.
A garage, maybe? He spotted a line of trucks, buried in snow, and deeper inside a few shadows of what could be more vehicles and maybe a helicopter.
“I can sense that a team has already come through—maybe Torment and a few Lykae—but that was a while ago.”
That made sense to him. He’d read the reports on this mission, how the team had fractured and when Torment had arrived, the computers were destroyed. There were heavy hints in that report that Hunter had destroyed everything, before she too had split the scene.
“Are you cold?”
She tensed again then shook her head. “No,” she said in a surprised voice. “A little. I forgot how freezing it was here.” She stopped to glance around then at him. “But maybe I won’t need a jacket because…”
“You’re immortal?” he suggested when she couldn’t seem to say it. “I thought you were already immortal.” He kept beside her when she started forward. “When we met in Washington, you didn’t seem too freaked out working with a Vampire and a werewolf.”
“They prefer Lykae,” she muttered. “Why would I be freaked out? Are you?”
He fought a grin at the fire in her tone. Hunter would make it. He’d seen her type before, the who-the-hell-cares-anyway attitude went far in this world.
“I wouldn’t have anything to be freaked out over. A tough guy is a tough guy. The bigger they are, you know, the harder they fall.”
“Oh really?” she murmured.
“Really.”
“So some guy outweighing you that you can’t possibly win against, or kill, except for maybe trying the head removal thing, that doesn’t freak you out? Make you feel a little inadequate?”
Well, hell, when she put it that way… “Naw, I’ve fought worse,” he lied.
She shook her head.
“Why did some of the immortals think you were fifty?” he asked the more important question. He had her pegged at twenty-eight, maybe twenty-seven.
“Who thought that? And how did you know?”
He frowned, trying to remember where that nugget of information came from, but came up blank. “Not sure, but I read it maybe,” he offered. “My hard drive gets full of facts, some of them are attached to more. Some aren’t, because I just don’t have the space.”
“For some reason, I can completely believe that.”
“And? Why?” he prodded when she stopped at an entrance.
“I lied to Trouble when she found me.”
“To be older?” he asked, not following the logic.
She shrugged. “I thought it would get me on board with more of the missions and stuff,” she offered vaguely.
Again, why? Had she been on call with the devil since then? If so, what were her orders? Help with the fight against the Death Stalkers—who are known to be pure evil? He’d have thought they’d please the devil a great deal.
“Right…so that explains it.”
“It does. I wanted in. If I said how truly old I was, I’d never be allowed off on my own. It’s no biggie.” She gave him a look as if he was being difficult. “Let’s focus on getting this door open.”
The wind had piled a snowdrift against the building, but he bet on the door swinging in, not out. He let the age thing go, tacking it on to the growing list he had to discuss with her if they got a chance.
Hunter used her bare hand to brush at the keypad. Her palm glowed blue and a moment later the frost cleared, and after another second, the door slid into a wall. He got the impression she was surprised it had.
She shook her head, then muttered as if she was mentally talking to the thing, then blew out an exasperated, foggy breath. After keeping him waiting for about three minutes while she kept muttering to the keypad, she lowered her hand and stepped forward.
“Whoa, there,” he said, and hooked her back to him by the back of her sexy pants. “Report. What was that?” he demanded, waving to the door.
She tossed her ponytail, but finally said, “I was scanning the interior. No one has been here since Torment, and that was before”—she gestured to her face—“this fun time.”
If she thought that kind of thing would work to make him uncomfortable, she really hadn’t gotten a good first impression—or second or third. He also hoped she knew that wasn’t going to deter him from earning his quickie. Not now that she’d given his hips such a speculative frown. He didn’t state the obvious, since he wasn’t certain she realized just how damn beautiful she still was, bum face and all. The right side of her face acted like a reminder, while the left simply proved how tough she was. And really, he’d been more attracted to her since he’d first met her than any woman in his history of dating. That included Brenda Johnson from third grade when she’d ripped his heart out by walking around the playground with Timothy Frasier after she broke it off with him that morning.
Hunter was just—he assessed her for the millionth time—it. Brains, tough exterior with a hint of mischief and, he guessed, one very sensitive center. She rocked, but right now, he was going out on a limb and guessing she didn’t know that. She probably thought life was over because her face was scarred.
Now, exposed to the freezing Alaskan wind, wasn’t the time to clue her in otherwise.
He blinked to focus himself on the most important issue facing him—the woman with her hand perched on her sexy hip.
“Right. Next time, fill me in. We’re working together here,” he said. “Teamwork, got it?”
“All right,” she said with a heavy sprinkle of sarcasm. “So, the lower levels aren’t coming in clear, just the upper floors.”
“Wait, what do you mean? They’re blacked out, or fuzzy?”
“Uh.” She glanced away then at the keypad, doing something again before she said, “Blacked out. No lines to that area, like someone—other than me—fouled the links from this computer to all the others.”
“You fouled up the computers?”
“Yeah, trying, unsuccessfully, to cover my tracks,” she owned.
He gave her props. That kind of thing wasn’t the usual fess up, but since she’d been to hell, he supposed whatever he was going to say to judge that kind of thing mattered as much as a mosquito to a dinosaur. It also made him want to kiss her so damn bad his mouth ac
tually watered.
“Good to know,” he said, catching the way her shoulders relaxed when he didn’t go nuclear over her sneakiness. “So we check out the lay of the place, because I’m not gonna get cozy until I do.”
“And you being cozy is important to this mission, why?”
“Oh, it’s important, believe me. Let’s go inside for this stimulating conversation, though, okay?” he said and shoved her gently, but firmly, forward.
She went, but over her shoulder said, “I know what teamwork means, Kincaid. That doesn’t mean I’m sketching out every move I make.”
“Why not? I’ll draw you a picture of mine, using crayons if you want. I’ll even sign it,” he said.
“Can you be serious?” she demanded. “I don’t think checking out every inch of this place is a good use of time. I didn’t foul all the computers. I can still hack in and find out all we need without wasting time here.”
“No dice. I want to check this place from top to bottom.”
She opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “That’s insane. You realize the last time anyone went to the subterranean levels there were Phantoms in residence.”
“Phantoms,” he mused. That might be a problem. “We’ll deal if that comes up, but we don’t leave anything in the dark. We check it out. For all we know, that’s where the changelings are, Sparky. But phantoms? What are those, exactly?”
“Phantoms are dangerous. They are half spirit and can become solid when they bite. They grow more substantial then because their hunger is ravenous.”
Good to know. Also freaky as hell. “Okay, you faced one?”
She shook her head, focusing her attention off to the side of the hallway they stood in. He glanced around but there was nothing moving, not even a sound beyond them breathing.
“No, not me. The team did,” she added. “I heard them discussing them, then they were attacked and they left. I hit it right after I destroyed most of the computers in the central control station. The Phantoms could still be here, but…Torment didn’t say anything about finding them, did he?”
“Not a word, but he wasn’t here long enough to really check it out. There isn’t even mention of subterranean floors on the report,” he offered. “I’m betting on the Phantoms being gone now that Lucifer lost the Fire Realm play he made.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
He shifted his pack and she snapped her lips closed but still gave the impression he’d farted in church.
“What? He lost, didn’t he? That’s why you got this, huh?” he asked, indicating the left side of her face.
She gave him an angry mutter he didn’t bother to listen to. He’d learned if someone wanted to say shit they wanted you to hear, they’d say it loud enough.
After a few seconds of playing around with the inside keypad, the door shut and she finally met his eyes. She wasn’t doing that as often now, so he grinned and winked at her, just to pull her chain.
“You really are this much of a smart-ass, aren’t you?” Hunter asked.
“I am, and I never forget a thing, so if all this bluster and sighing over your face being damaged is your way of getting out of our quickie, let me assure you, that wild ride is going to happen. There’s no going back on a promise, girlie—no way, no how.”
Her blue eye widened—again—and her pale one did the same, then she narrowed them as she gave him a fierce, kind of cute scowl. “You have got to be joking. Are you blind?”
“Come on. The mere mortal is freezing here, and you seem to be as well. We can discuss the terms of this while we search for a heater in this place, can’t we? And no, I’m not blind. Is your left eye?” He pointed to the lights overhead before she could open her pretty mouth. “Can you get the lights on?”
She pulled away and did something and the hallway flooded with light. He thought he heard a heater system kick on as well. He touched her arm and she jerked away, facing him with one hell of a pissed off expression.
“You know, I think it’s best if you just cut the shit. There’s no quickie. I’m a freak, for fuck’s sake, and there’s not a chance I’m staying here with you if you think I’m going to make good on a promise I made weeks ago to get you moving”
“You’re not a freak. Don’t start being an idiot now.”
“I do not need you coming on to me to keep my shit together. You think I don’t know what this walk down how I fucked up my life is going to feel? I just woke to this,” she yelled and pointed at her face, “not two hours ago. Do you think I need to deal with you and that at the same time?”
“Well fuck, when you put it that way—”
“And I do not need a pity fuck, thank you very much. If I wanted—”
He jerked her flush with his body, making sure she didn’t miss Little Rickie waving hello. Of all the things he liked about Hunter, one of them was that no matter how hard he tried, his mind never seemed to leave her for long. Rickie didn’t seem to want to either.
“Pity fuck? Are you insane? Does this feel like a man who thinks you’re anything but gorgeous?” he asked, parking his erection tight to her soft thigh with the lush handful of her butt he had going on. “You opening that treasure chest might be taking pity on me, by letting me score the hottest babe on the planet,” he said, probably too loud. “Fucking women, you all are nuts,” he grumbled and released her, then added, in case she was really gonna try to blow him off, “A man doesn’t get a hard-on unless he is into a woman.”
She glanced down and he knew she could see the mammoth erection he had for her. Rickie was shoved down his pant leg and outlined clear as day. He wasn’t sure she was aware of it, but she licked her lips and those amazing headlights of hers got so damn hard they were begging to be touched.
Almost before he could think of moving and doing much more than tasting every inch of her, she jerked her attention back on his face.
“So this”—he indicated his hips with a nod—“is all for you.”
“Oh really?” she scoffed, getting back on her feet pretty quickly. “And when a man’s alone and goes without sex for months, he doesn’t fuck the first woman he bumps and grinds with on the dance floor? He might chew his arm off after, maybe, but he’ll take a dive, no matter what she looks like.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Woman, I’m not alone. I’ve had sex somewhat recently,” he said, but right now that might not be accurate since Rickie was zoned in on one woman—and one woman only—and had been for far too long. He had been just as on board with that since his first glance at her through the video surveillance feeds. “You are not—in case this is what you’re trying at—Coyote Ugly,” he said, tipping her face to the side that was damaged. “This is a scar, nothing more.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again then jerked away to glance down at his hips once again. He hoped to measure his erection, maybe comparing it to the sorry shape he’d been in when she’d last seen him. He thought there might have been some admiration on her pretty face, even hunger, but she turned away too fast for him to be certain.
“I never agreed to the ride. You offered, nothing more,” she said casually. “And I’d consider a new name. Monster Rickie, or something like Enormous Rickie, not Little Rickie.”
With that she sauntered off, leaving him standing, not with his dick in his hands, but with his tongue out at the way her ass bunched and flexed with each step.
Monster Rickie, huh?
“Damn,” he murmured, more impressed with her than ever. “You promised, Sparky. We both know it.”
She heard him and snorted, but it wasn’t a denial. It was so much not a denial he grinned.
Hell and back, and still more fun than any other person on the planet. He’d just have to make sure that ride was wild enough for her so she wanted seconds, maybe thirds…
Chapter Six
“Would you focus on the issue?” Hunter muttered.
She was flattered. She had promised Kincaid sex, but only
to get him through a tough situation. She might have even considered some after hours’ fun with ‘Little’ Rickie, which had to be the biggest joke he’d sprouted so far, but that was before. His erection had some density, not to mention girth, if what she felt against her hip was any indication. Or what she’d seen so marvelously outlined under his jeans. Man, a guy with that kind of tool could… Well, he’d ruin her for any other guy.
Just thinking of a quickie with Rick Kincaid had her aching. Even her nipples hurt. The soft cups of her bra felt abrasive, as if she’d put on some cheap, scratchy Wal-Mart crap. Still, taking Rick up on his offer wasn’t happening—not now at least.
For now, they needed to find his friends. Maybe when they did, she’d find hers—if she still had any. And maybe after that, if Rick Kincaid was still interested…
But that was a long way off and better left untouched.
She needed more than six hours to deal with how her life—yes, she had one again—had changed. When she’d taken that fall for Markee and refused to sell Moon and Agni out, she’d never dreamed she’d be back in her bed, scared, but as Mr. Nice-and-To-The-Point had just said in his own unique style, alive. She was ugly as sin, but she was breathing air, and not the kind found in hell, either.
Freaky. Beyond freaky. She had to stop herself from spinning to see who was behind her, worried that as soon as she let her guard down, bam, Lucifer would show up.
Stop thinking on it. If he comes, there is nothing—and no one—who can protect you. Don’t think on it.
But what else is there to think on?
“Hello, Earth to Hunter.” Kincaid rolled his chair closer to hers.
She blinked. There is always Kincaid, isn’t there? He was interesting. Of all the men she’d met in her life, he was unique. It wasn’t just the jokes, either. She liked those, but that wasn’t it. He really saw her. He stared her straight in the eyes… Well, unless he was going to tease her. Then he would check out her breasts. Most men did, but Rick did it right before he was going to give her shit. It was flattering, though, that he’d stare at her lips and face as much as he did her boobs. It was when he would glance from her hips to her face that he really gave her a full-body shiver. For some reason she could almost read his mind, and it wasn’t on fucking her silly—it was on getting between her legs for another reason altogether. She’d never had oral sex given to her. Never been in a relationship, so the idea he was thinking of doing something like that made her so nervous she had trouble breathing.
