You Only Love Twice (London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy Book 3)

by Bec McMaster

"You cannot expect they'll take him to the Queen," he blurted. "Why the hell would Malloryn trust Obsidian? This is the barmiest idea you've ever had."

  Ghost merely smiled. "Trust me, Silas. I've been putting this into motion for days now. I cannot fail."

  Tomorrow, the queen would be dead, and they could initiate Phase Three.

  But what would the cost be?

  Damn it, he'd warned Obsidian not to lose his bloody head.

  A sleek panel in the walls opened up, and a slim figure dressed strictly in black stepped into the room.

  "Where have you been?" Ghost murmured as he sipped his blood and stared at the closed door through which Silas had vanished.

  Couldn't trust a damned soul these days. He'd seen the secrets in his brother's eyes. He didn't know what Silas hid from him, but he didn't like it. First Obsidian. Now this.

  "Here and there. Making sure the final pieces slot into place. You didn't tell him the truth?" the figure whispered, trailing her fingertips across the back of his shoulders.

  "He is fond of Obsidian. And matters have a bad habit of getting out of late. With Obsidian joining Malloryn's forces, I cannot afford any further leaks." Ghost turned to capture her wrist. He kissed her hand, "Ah, Dido. I've missed you."

  She shot him a dangerous smile as she swung her leg across his hips to straddle him. "I couldn't have stayed away for the world. Balfour wants a direct report on how matters advance. Are you ready for mayhem, my love?"

  His cock hardened as he wrapped his arms around her. "Let's watch London burn together."

  Chapter 23

  Obsidian carried her all the way up the stairs to Malloryn's safe house.

  Gemma rested her head against his shoulder, listening to the beat of his heart. "I can walk," she pointed out. "I did just escape a dhampir agent and blow up a munitions factory."

  "I know."

  He didn't release her.

  Byrnes held the door open as Obsidian strode through, shooting her a particularly arch look that said, I hope you know what you're doing.

  Not a bloody clue. But she clung to Obsidian's neck, feeling strangely whole in his arms.

  She hadn't asked him whether he'd made a decision yet, but his presence here seemed to argue for it.

  It was both a relief and a sudden fear. Because if anyone had seen them today... it might already be too late.

  Malloryn stood at the top of the stairs, watching as they entered. Gemma felt a little self-conscious. As nice as it was to be in Obsidian's arms, she couldn't help noticing the way Malloryn's gaze slid over them, as if cataloguing every inch of their body language.

  And Obsidian had told her of the duke's offer.

  It wasn't that she didn't trust Malloryn. But she knew the way his mind worked.

  A dhampir turncoat?

  The idea of all that information would be irresistible to the duke, but could she trust him with Obsidian's life?

  "Put me down," she whispered.

  Obsidian complied.

  "My study. Now." The duke stalked down the hallway.

  "Good to see you," Byrnes called after him, stripping off his gloves. "And it's our pleasure. We're glad Gemma's safe and whole too."

  Malloryn stood behind his desk when they entered, pouring her a brandy. "You're well?" he asked her.

  "Tolerably."

  "Would love one," Byrnes said, but the duke ignored him and pushed the glass toward her.

  "Found her in a warehouse in the East End docks," Ingrid said. "Or should I say, the second the warehouse blew up, we were fairly certain we had her location."

  Malloryn's gaze sharpened.

  "I set the charge," Gemma said, and then hurried to explain.

  About the abduction, the warehouse, the dhampir she'd taken down. "The way I escaped... I thought they'd be tougher," she admitted.

  "Or maybe you're just that good," Byrnes said.

  "It was too easy," Obsidian said.

  The entire company looked at him.

  "In what respect?" Malloryn asked. "Gemma's exceptionally capable."

  Obsidian shrugged. "I don't think they intended to kill her. This was a message. If they'd wanted her dead—or intended to set a trap—then it would have happened."

  "How is Isabella?" Gemma asked.

  She'd been struck to the back of the head, according to Byrnes, and in bed last he saw her.

  "One hell of a headache," Malloryn murmured. "She was quite disorientated, and there's some sort of problem with her vision, but otherwise well. She was most distressed. Could barely get a word out and kept crying."

  Worried about me. Gemma nodded. This was not the baroness's week. "I'll check on her later."

  "Why would they take Gemma?" Malloryn directed this question to the man at her side. "And what message are they trying to send? That they can take any one of mine at any time?"

  "It was potentially done because of me," Obsidian replied. Every inch of him remained tense, and Gemma had the feeling she was staring at two strange cats hissing at each other across the yard. "I gave Ghost an ultimatum. This was his answer."

  "An ultimatum?"

  Byrnes took a surreptitious step closer to Obsidian, and Gemma shot him a glare. If this all went horribly wrong, then the room was going to explode into chaos, because she wasn't going to allow her friends to hurt the man she loved.

  Or vice versa.

  "He wants me to return for reconditioning." The words were torn from Obsidian. "I said I would consider it on the condition Gemma was not to be harmed. He doesn't care for ultimatums, but I didn’t expect him to take her hostage."

  "It seems he's given you an answer."The duke faced off against Obsidian. "What now? I told you that you would have a choice. This is the moment. Them? Or us?"

  "Please," she whispered, catching Obsidian's sleeve. "We have to tell them about the neural implant. If there's any chance of saving you, then perhaps we can all come up with an option?"

  "The neural implant?" Malloryn said, his voice sharpening as if he sensed a dangerous tidbit of information.

  Obsidian stared at her. "Gemma."

  "Running away isn't an option," she told him sharply. "Jack's the best inventor I've ever met. Kincaid works with bio-mech, and Ava's brilliant when it comes to investigating a person's body. We could find a solution to the bomb in your head."

  Silence.

  Malloryn's head turned sharply toward her.

  She couldn't stand it any longer. "You're already at risk. Helping to find me today might have finally convinced your brothers your loyalty has shifted. What if they detonate it today? You would never see it coming. This is your only hope. Please. Please. Tell them about the Chameleon Project and the neural implant."

  "What neural implant?" Malloryn asked.

  Obsidian released a slow breath. "The one in my head. The one in Jonathan Carlyle's head. The one in the head of the new Chameleon, who will be sent to assassinate the queen."

  Color drained out of Malloryn's face. The others gasped.

  He explained everything he'd told her the other night. A neural implant implanted in a person's head while under anesthetic. Hypnosis. Then either a remote-controlled activator, or a certain code phrase used to activate the device.

  "You will not know who it is," Obsidian said softly. "But they will be within the Ivory Tower already, someone close to the queen. They will not even know themselves. It's most likely a blue blood, as the surgery heals so swiftly any sign of it is gone before they awaken. I do not know their identity. Ghost's been... difficult of late."

  Malloryn looked pale. "We have to alert the queen."

  The Ivory Tower had long ceased to awe her, but as Gemma strode toward the elevation chamber within it, she realized Obsidian had fallen behind.

  Sunset's dying rays speared down though the hollow core of the tower, highlighting the hard planes of his face as he looked up.

  "See something you like?" she teased.

  "No, I just...." His mouth twisted ruefully. "I've spe
nt weeks trying to get inside this bloody place. It seems ironic that now I'm here, only not as I expected."

  Warmth spread through her. "Thank you."

  Thank you for helping us.

  "Don't thank me just yet," he murmured. "I've been working for Malloryn for nearly three hours, and I already want to chain his feet to an anchor and drop him in the Thames."

  "The impression doesn't fade," Byrnes said, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked past.

  Obsidian tensed, and she saw the way he'd almost taken the former Nighthawk's arm off.

  Then he gave her a rueful shrug. Old habits.

  She smiled, understanding the urge perfectly. When she'd broken free of the Falcons, it had taken her a long time to accept another's touch as anything other than a threat. Now she took every opportunity she had to hug her friends and kiss them on the cheek.

  "You're remaining here." Malloryn gave Charlie a brief nod.

  The young man hauled a set of cuffs out of his coat. "Sorry, Obsidian. But the duke insists."

  Gemma's heart kicked, and she narrowed a glare upon Malloryn. "What is going on?"

  "The Council meeting begins in ten minutes," Malloryn replied coolly. "I'm taking you and the baroness with me as witnesses, and Ingrid and Byrnes as guards. Obsidian can remain here with Charlie until we've spoken to the queen. If she requires his testimony, then he will be brought to the throne room."

  "And the cuffs?"

  "The cuffs remain." Malloryn tilted his head toward Obsidian, clearly recognizing a lethal adversary when he saw one. "If I wanted to assassinate the queen, then this seems the perfect opportunity, you understand? Who's to say you're not the Chameleon? You do have a neural implant in your head, after all."

  "It's all right, Gemma," Obsidian said, holding his wrists out and staring flatly at Charlie. "My allegiance has only recently shifted. Malloryn's taking sensible precautions. I'll stay down here until required."

  Charlie snapped the cuffs on him.

  "Byrnes and Ingrid, could you wait for the next elevation booth?" Malloryn murmured as they strode toward the brass box.

  Byrnes's eyebrow arched, but he pulled his wife aside. "As you wish, Your Grace."

  Gemma waited until the doors to the elevation chamber closed before taking a slow, deep breath. Isabella settled at her side, staring directly at the door. She'd barely spoken since they embarked in the carriage.

  Malloryn turned upon Gemma. "Just because you trust him doesn't mean I do. We are speaking of the queen's safety, damn it." He paused. "Gemma, you heard what he said about the implant. Were you not the one who told me you didn't think he recognized you when he shot you?"

  "It's fine. I understand." She squeezed her hands tightly together. "I just worry they'll kill him before we have a chance to examine the device in his head. It's different to the one used on the Chameleon."

  "One has to ask why they put a bomb in the head of their best assassin," Malloryn said, staring at the wall.

  Gemma's mind raced. "They didn't trust him."

  "And it happened right after Russia, you said."

  Sweet lord. Further proof Obsidian's feelings for her had been real all along.

  "Perhaps I was wrong, Gemma. I think you compromised him more than we realized. He loves you," the duke said quietly. "I never thought I should step aside when it came to Obsidian and you, but I'm certain of it. He loves you."

  "I thought that word didn't exist," she said lightly, her heart pounding like a rabid badger in her chest. Just breathe.

  "It doesn't." The baroness trembled.

  "Are you all right?" Gemma asked.

  "I'll be better once I'm out of this damned box," Isabella snapped, placing a hand to her temples.

  "Your head aches?"

  The baroness was not a blue blood, after all, able to recover from the blow to her head so easily. She'd insisted upon coming, however, snapping at Malloryn that she had a job to do and he could take his false concern elsewhere and shove it up his backside.

  "I'm fine."

  The doors opened with a ping. Due to the way the tower was designed, this was the highest one could go via the elevation chamber. They had to take the glorious double staircase that swept along the interior of the hollow core, leading up three stories to the throne room.

  Isabella burst out of the elevation chamber as if she needed fresh air.

  Gemma gave Malloryn a sharp look. "Have you said something to her?" she hissed under her breath.

  "I haven't said a damned thing." He stared after Isabella, and then glanced down at his hand, splaying his fingers.

  Gemma's breath caught when she saw the wedding ring on his finger. Oh. It all made a great deal of sense. "You married Miss Hamilton?"

  "I am not going to be a laughingstock," he said tightly.

  "When?"

  "Quite frankly, Gemma, it was a private ceremony, and I don't feel like sharing the precise moment." He stormed out of the box. "That way no one wins your bloody bet."

  She followed a little more slowly.

  The bet had clearly rubbed him a little rawer than he'd have liked, especially in the wake of his disastrous "wedding" day.

  Poor Isabella.

  The baroness strode ahead of them, her skirts swishing over the carpet. They were practically running after her to keep up.

  Then the baroness slammed to an abrupt halt.

  "Isabella?" Gemma frowned at Malloryn.

  The other woman didn't move.

  Malloryn's lips thinned. "I should never have let her come." He stalked forward. "Fetch a doctor, Gemma."

  "No."

  A single, emotionless word.

  The baroness slowly turned, her hand sweeping up, the pistol in it locking right on the middle of Malloryn's chest.

  Gemma froze.

  "Do you know, I always thought you had a heart, Malloryn," the baroness said coldly. "But if I pull the trigger, do you think you'll even feel it?"

  "Isabella." Gemma's breath came out in a rush as a horrible, horrible certainty filled her.

  You will not know who it is....

  Not someone close to the queen. But someone who would be brought into close proximity.

  And Malloryn had always suspected a leak.

  "You," Malloryn said as all the pieces started to click into place. "You're the Chameleon."

  Isabella held the gun on him, but the second Gemma stepped forward, it wavered toward her—then back again. "Don't move. Don't speak. You think I don't know how the pair of you work?" A bitter smile transformed her red-painted mouth. "You think I don't know that no matter how much the pair of you meant to me, your allegiance to each other was stronger? I've spent years on the outside looking in. Years giving everything of myself, only to fade into oblivion the second either of you walked through the door."

  She didn't understand. He could not give her his heart, and if his suspicions were true and Balfour was still alive... he would strike at those closest to Malloryn first. "Isabella—"

  "I said shut up."

  The pistol locked on him again, but this time it shook. "I could have loved you," Isabella spat. "I did love you. And then you married that stupid brat. You discarded me like a piece of soiled linen, as if your damned wife would care where you were spending your nights—"

  "It's got nothing to do with Adele," he replied, holding his hands up and trying to stall for time. Every second he spent here talking to her was a second in which she couldn't get close to the queen to carry out her deadly mission. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't realize you owned feelings for me...." He stopped abruptly, for was that not what Gemma had been trying to tell him for months?

  "I merely thought to end things amicably, before you could get hurt."

  "I begged you not to marry her," she snarled.

  "I had no choice."

  "You're a duke, Malloryn! Adele Hamilton is dirt beneath your shoe. If you'd wanted to deny her, you could have."

  And seen all his recent work with the Thral
l Bill undone?

  He clenched his jaw as her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't.... I didn't pay you enough attention. But you don't have to do this."

  "It's too late for apologies."

  Gemma sidled closer, remaining silent and fading into the background.

  Malloryn stepped forward so Isabella's attention remained upon him. "If you put the pistol down, it's not too late—"

  Isabella laughed. "I know you too well, Malloryn. Besides, it is too late. Never say I'm not the type to lie in my bed once I've made it. This only ends one way."

  "How could you work with the enemy?" he whispered, but the answer was clear. A woman scorned....

  It was his own damned fault because he'd toyed with her heart without ever looking closely enough to see the damage he was doing. Their mésalliance had been borne of lust and practicalities; he'd allowed her to seduce him because he'd never, ever thought Isabella Rouchard had a heart. It had always been a mutually beneficial affair in his eyes.

  What was the first rule he'd ever learned in this game of houses?

  Love and dalliances were both far too dangerous for a man who couldn't afford to let a woman in. He'd had a rule once: One night only. So nobody should be harmed.

  You blundered. Badly.

  And then he'd accused the others of emotionally compromising themselves, when he'd been the one to walk blindly into such a swamp.

  "I wanted to see you suffer," Isabella whispered, the kohl around her eyes leaking down her pale cheeks. "I wanted to make you hurt, the way I was hurting—"

  "I never wanted to hurt you."

  "Well, I do!" she snarled. "I want you to damn well know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest."

  "Isabella," Gemma whispered, stepping closer. "You're not sounding at all like yourself. Put the gun down."

  Isabella curled her fist, and pressed it to her temples. "Stop it! Stop talking to me. You're making it hurt."

  Making it hurt.... Malloryn's blood ran cold. Gemma was right. None of this sounded like his old friend.

  "The neural implant doesn't always work." Obsidian's voice in his mind. "Sometimes, if it's implanted in the wrong part of the brain, you can see changes to its bearer’s personality. It puts a pressure point there that wasn't there before...."