For once, she wanted to watch him do his worst.
The garish green neon sign of the hotel came into view, and she shifted downward. The roar of the trike’s engine lowered to a purr. She tugged at her cape, and Scythe helped her pull it over her hair. Littleton was still out. Her sources had put him at the hotel; Scythe’s had pinpointed him at a bar just down the street. He must have started tanking up right after he’d left them.
Had he seen the two of them together in her yard?
Luna pushed the thought out of her head. They were venturing into dangerous territory. She couldn’t let anything distract her, not even the sexy man wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
“Drive by the bar slowly,” he said into her ear.
She did as instructed, her gaze searching. “His car’s not here.”
“He could have walked. Pull over.”
She swung over and hugged the curb. “What are you going to do?”
“I thought I might walk in and ask after him.”
Her eyes widened as he lifted his cape over his head and unlashed his scythe. This, she wanted to see.
Swinging her leg over the gas engine, she dismounted the Motor Trike. Scythe loomed over her, his cape billowing in the growing breeze. He looked dark and menacing, so like he had when she’d been on her knees in that dank alleyway. Fear tingled along her nerve endings, but her thighs pressed together hard.
He was starting to make her understand the merits of a little fear.
She started towards the door of the bar. “Ladies first.”
“After you,” he growled.
A confident sway gripped her hips as she strode across the filthy sidewalk. This felt good, working with someone. Especially someone like him. His presence was big and mean behind her. He might not be good in the common sense, but he’d shielded her, pushed her and confided in her.
Even now, he was protecting her. His ultimate goal might be to bring down the Senator and, with it, damage their system, but for once, she focused on herself. He was at her side, and he’d asked her to do one thing. Distract.
He pulled the door open. Leaving the hood covering her face, she spread her arms wide. Like a runway model, she strutted into the bar, holding her cape open. The stiletto heels of her black boots rang out against the hardwood flooring. She let her hips swing, bound in their tiny leather hipsters. Her breasts jounced in the corset-like support of her black top.
A sense of power filled her, unlike any she’d ever known.
All around her, conversation stopped. Mugs froze halfway to thirsty mouths and, in the far corner, a dart flew wide and pierced a wall.
“It’s Luminescence,” someone said in awe.
A simple, unfiltered joy burst inside her. Someone knew her.
Maybe she wasn’t so low-level after all.
She lowered her hands to her hips, keeping the cape open and her body on display. “David Littleton?” she called sweetly.
In the back booth, a heavy mug bounced against a pock-marked table. The man seated there looked at her with wonder. And lust. He licked his lips as his gaze raked her body. He was a good-looking guy in that plain, cubicle-worker way. In a few years, his hair would thin and his middle would develop a paunch. For now, though, he thought he could have her.
She stepped to the side. “My friend Scythe would like to have a word with you.”
The room began to scramble like an anthill that had just been kicked. Frantic patrons ran, ducked and hid. Scythe’s heavy biker boots rang out as he stepped into the bar. The temperature in the sweaty tavern dropped a good ten degrees with his presence.
He looked so ominous, his cape swinging with every step he took. The scythe he carried only added to the dark mystique. He was big, powerful and sinister.
And all hers.
A proprietary feeling settled in her chest. He’d agreed to be her partner. She was going to make sure it was for more than just one night.
In the back booth, Littleton froze. His mouth dropped open as he watched the specter approach him. He gave a full-body quiver before his motor functions snapped back into place. His shoes scuffed the floor and his elbow banged the wall when he scrambled out of the corner.
Scythe didn’t pause. He merely pointed his weapon at the fleeing man. “You!”
The threat kicked Littleton into high speed, and he was a fast bugger. His head swiveled on his neck as he looked for an escape route. He saw one at the back door. It was protected by an alarm bar and a red sign overhead.
He must have feared death more than he feared the police.
The alarm started blaring as he burst out of the building. Scythe went right after him.
“Fuck!”
The surprised curse came from behind Luna. Spinning around, she spotted another man apparently just coming out of the restroom. His gaze was on the back table. He wasn’t handsome, by any stretch of the word, but he was clean cut. He looked like an accountant with his hair combed back tidily and his glasses perched on his nose.
In fact, he looked like another office worker.
“David,” he snapped, his tone impatient and angry.
Luna jerked when he spun around and headed for the front door. As he crashed through, she saw him reaching for something at his hip.
It was a gun.
“Scythe.” All her breath whooshed out of her lungs.
It came back on one jagged inhale, and then she was running. She followed thug number two. Why hadn’t they considered that Littleton might not be alone?
Legs pushing hard, she ran out the door. The wind was whipping now, howling down the narrow channel between the bar and the building next door. Rain started splattering against her cape. One drop, then two, then ten…
She spotted her guy up ahead. If Scythe had chased Littleton down the alleyway, his partner would be able to sneak up behind them. Scythe didn’t know. She had to warn him.
Thunder rumbled across the sky, traveling faster than her scream. It drowned out her cry as she darted into the alley. Still, Scythe must have heard her. He spun on his heel, his cape flaring around him.
The assailant lifted his gun and fired. Luna screamed again but jerked in surprise when Scythe’s blade whipped down and knocked the speeding bullet away. The clang of metal against metal jolted her, but the blade of Mt. Etna won.
And then she watched Scythe work.
She’d never seen him in action before, and it was a sight to behold. That big blade of his twirled like a windmill, fending off attack after attack. He was blinding in his speed. Rain poured down around them as he stalked his new prey.
She flinched when Littleton’s partner pulled the trigger again. Scythe spun on the ball of his foot. This time he didn’t stop the bullet, but he redirected it. It punched into a car window, and the glass exploded into a web of cracks.
He was like a ninja, moving around with martial-arts precision and grace. The way he yielded his weapon was beautiful. Athletic and powerful. And way too real. He blocked another speeding bullet when Luna saw movement out of the corner of her eye.
Littleton. Oh God, he had a gun too.
“Behind you,” she screamed.
It was too late. Scythe was a master of his craft, but he couldn’t protect himself from an attack at his back. In slow motion she watched as the bullet hit. Scythe’s big body jerked, bowing backwards at the unexpected blow. He went down on one knee, and then teetered to the side. He braced the foot of the scythe against the ground, leaning on it momentarily, but that left him with no defenses. He was hurt and unprotected.
When Durbin’s men realized they had the upper hand, they closed in.
Luna screamed for help. Someone. Anyone. They needed backup.
And calling for help was her specialty.
She didn’t even stop to think. Rain was pelting her, pooling in puddles against the asphalt. The wind was whirling, trapped in the cyclone alley. Overhead, thunder still crashed. The sky was pitch black, the cloud cover hanging low and thick.
It didn’t matter. She had to try. She had to do more than try.
Throwing back her hood, she freed her hair. It flew in the wind, thrashing and spiraling around her head. Baring her body, she lifted her arms and searched for power. She searched for the moon.
She didn’t find it. It wasn’t there.
Still, her actions had distracted the criminals closing in on her man. Scythe was struggling to get up, using his weapon as a crutch. She couldn’t tell where he was hit or how badly.
Lightning crashed, illuminating everything in blinding white. It couldn’t have struck more than a block away, but the strength wasn’t what Luna latched onto. The illumination. The light.
The impact nearly knocked the breath out of her, but the stone between her breasts grew hot. Instead of the coolness she felt when using the moon, her skin was seared. Her head snapped back, and she lifted her palms, trapping the energy. It was sizzling, almost burning.
And she glowed.
Beams of white light streamed from her, shining into the corners and making the men before her squint. Her hair whipped around like sparks. This was more power than she’d ever handled before. She didn’t know how long she could contain it.
Another burst of lightning hit, crashing simultaneously with the thunder. She amped up until she was glowing like a spotlight. Her palms closed. She wasn’t letting this go. She wasn’t going to allow them to hurt him anymore.
Sirens split the air. If she could have sagged in relief, she would have. Her power of attraction was still working. She hadn’t known if it would.
“Scythe,” she called when he stumbled down onto one knee.
Holding her power, shining it where she wanted, she hurried towards him. Durbin’s thugs lifted their arms to shield their eyes. Finally, they could bear it no more. When the sirens became louder than the storm, they turned and ran down the alleyway.
“Scythe.” Luna fell onto her knees to catch him. He was a big man and heavy. She knew how heavy from the times they’d made love, only now he couldn’t hold himself up. She helped him lie down.
In the grit and grime, he looked up at her. “How did you do that?” he rasped.
She shrugged. Her body was still hot, and her skin glimmered with some internal energy source.
“You’re luminescent, Luminescence,” he said with a cough.
“You’re funny.” She wasn’t laughing as she took off her cape and balled it under his head. His shoulder. He’d been hit in the shoulder, the wound starting in the back and exiting in the front.
“Sirens,” he said.
“Help’s coming.” She undid his cape and yanked it out from underneath him. She wrapped it around him, trying to prevent shock.
“Cops.”
Yes, the Calvary was coming. Did he not understand? Was he delirious?
His hand caught her wrist and squeezed. She looked into his gray eyes. They were pained and glassy.
The mask. Oh God, of course. He was on the most-wanted list. He was Scythe.
Excited voices came from the front of the bar.
She didn’t even stop to think. Grabbing his spandex shirt, she began peeling it upwards. The material clung, and his body was sweaty. She worked it up to his chest, exposing hard muscles and smooth skin.
“Sorry. Sorry,” she apologized as she rolled the stretchy fabric over his wounded shoulder. She winced when she saw his torn flesh.
As much as it hurt, and even knowing what she intended to do, he moved his arms to help her. Finally, she had it off his body. Rain poured down on him, making his blood slide off in a pink torrent. She had to stop the bleeding.
She kneeled at his head. Rocks and glass bit into her bare knees, but she didn’t feel it. He was the one who was hurt. What had that bullet caught as it tunneled its way through his body?
“I’m sorry.” She looked down into his gray eyes. He knew that this time she wasn’t apologizing for the inadvertent pain she was causing.
Supporting his head, she peeled his costume upwards. She bared the back of his neck. His damp hair tickled her fingers. Using a quick back-to-front motion, she exposed the crown of his head. His hair was black. Black and slick. Gathering the shirt up the rest of the way, she pulled the mask portion off his face.
Handsome, hard features looked up at her, and Luna gasped.
Griffin Tate.
He cleared his throat. “I’d like to check the record.”
Oh God, it was really him.
There was no time to stare. No time to try to put two and two together. With care, she rolled him halfway onto his side. She pressed the wad of material against his open wound and helped him lie back down atop it. It would provide a good compress—and hide that part of his costume.
Footsteps rustled in the narrow space between the bar and the apartment building they were behind. Luna thought quickly. The scythe. She grabbed it and scrambled to her feet. Where could she hide it?
She spied an open window on the first floor of the apartment building. It was dark and seemed deserted. She thrust the scythe inside, and was running back to Tate when the police came around the corner.
“Stop right—”
They got one look at her and their words trailed off. Without her cape, Luminescence was practically laid bare. “He’s been shot.”
She dropped to her knees. “Please help me,” she pleaded.
His cape had slithered to the ground at his side, and she gathered it before anyone could see what it was. She needed another compress anyway. Wadding it up, she pressed it to the ugly hole in his shoulder. He tensed and moaned. She caught his hand, and a long, easing breath left him.
A young cop leaned over them. “Did it catch an artery?”
“I…I dunno.” Shock was catching up with her, and she started to shake. Scythe squeezed her hand.
His face was white, so white, and he didn’t glow like she had. He was too pale. Deathly pale.
“I don’t think so,” he told the cop tightly.
Another policeman was on his radio calling for an ambulance. A siren wailed, only blocks away. She’d already summoned one herself. God, she hoped it got here in time.
“The men who shot him.” She pointed down the alleyway. “They went that way. One’s name is David Littleton. The other, I don’t know.”
Two cops started in that direction with their guns drawn. “What about Scythe?”
“That way too,” she lied.
The young cop stayed with her, going down on his haunches. “How are you doing, sir? Wait. Is that—?”
“Griffin Tate.” She looked him over, trying to see him as the cop would. In black jeans and boots, he was dressed like any other guy in the bar. She had his shirt wadded up underneath him and his cape in her fist. Most importantly, she’d gotten rid of his beloved scythe.
“The defense attorney?”
“Yeah,” Tate answered for himself.
“Can you tell us what happened, sir?”
He gritted his teeth. “Littleton shot me in the back.”
“Did you see the other man?”
“No. Lights, thunder, explosion…”
“I saw him,” Luna said.
The cop pulled out his notebook, and she proceeded to give him the best description he’d ever gotten from a witness. She was a court reporter, and she’d learned a thing or two about the reliability of witnesses and what the experts said was important to remember.
From that point on, everything was a blur. She stayed with Tate, trying to keep his bleeding under control. When the ambulance arrived, she climbed in the back with him.
Everyone stared at her leather bikini and high-heeled boots, but she didn’t care. She was Luminescence, a heroine with a quickly growing reputation. They could stare at her all they wanted as long as it kept the attention off Griffin and what he was doing in that secluded alley.
She kept the compress tight to his shoulder as the EMT left the ambulance to retrieve his medical kit.
“Did you have to
throw the scythe away?” Tate asked grumpily.
She rolled her eyes. That was what worried him? “I did if you didn’t want your identity revealed.”
His mouth worked. “So what do you think of it? The identity, I mean. Are you disappointed?”
She cocked her head. “You’ve picked on me in that courtroom for months.”
“Because I thought you were hot.”
“In those ugly suits?”
“Hot and cute.”
“You’re delirious,” she muttered.
He squeezed her hand. “Will you get it back?”
He was still worried about his weapon.
“Tomorrow,” she promised. “I could use it. Did you see the grass in my yard? It’s way too long.”
He let out a choked laugh as the paramedic jumped in and closed the door. “Lightness, I wasn’t looking at the grass.”
Chapter Seven
“Be careful,” Luna warned as they climbed the stairs. “Don’t push yourself.”
“I’m just walking, baby. That’s not pushing.”
“Yes, but you’ve been in the hospital.”
Flat on his back. Griffin knew. The forced immobility had nearly driven him crazy. Fortunately, he’d been lucky. The bullet had gone straight through, missing bone. It had tangled with a few muscles and tendons. He’d have to work through some physical therapy, but if one had to be shot in the back, this was the way to do it. The doctors assured him he’d make a full recovery.
He wasn’t as certain. He was struggling not to breathe hard as he made it to the second-floor landing. He’d have to see how he could work his scythe before he’d be happy.
Luna hurried to open the bedroom door, and he glanced at the photograph of her grandfather on the wall before stepping inside. It was already dark outside, and shadows dimmed the corners. It had taken him forever to get his release papers, but she’d insisted he come straight here to recuperate. As he looked at the big, plush bed, things other than recuperating came to mind.
Refusing to show how much the steps had taxed him, he leaned against the nearby dresser and watched her set his bag on a chair.
She was Luna tonight, sexy and natural. There was no sign of the dowdy court reporter and only a hint of Luminescence. He liked this version of her best, although the others were close behind. He certainly lusted after all three.
Blade of Moonlight: Midnight Justice Page 7
