Black and Blue

by Gena Showalter

  He glanced up at the window where she waited and grinned slowly.

  At her?

  Heart thumping, Evie walked out of the box. She joined a group of reporters already congregating outside the locker room, and leaned against the wall to wait. A few eager beavers asked her what she thought of the game, but her answers must have bored them, because she was soon forgotten. An hour passed before Blue finally emerged, showered and clean, wearing a black tee and jeans.

  She straightened as recorders were shoved in his face and questions were hurled at him. He ignored everyone, his gaze scanning the crowd. When he found her, a megawatt smile broke out on his face. Her heart skipped a beat and her blood heated.

  He marched forward, and anyone stupid enough to stay in his path got mowed down. Then he was standing in front of her, thrums of his power stroking over her, making her tremble.

  "As the new owner of the Invaders, what'd you think?" he asked.

  She gave him a more colorful response. "A little tame, yeah. I expected rivers of blood stopped up by the occasional organ."

  He barked out a laugh.

  "I'll see you tomorrow night at Star Light, Mr. Blue." She left as reporters snapped pictures and threw more questions at him, but waited for him in the private parking garage the players and their significant others used.

  He arrived a short while later. None of the others had made it yet, which led her to believe her man had rushed to get to her.

  The thought warmed her.

  As they walked side by side, he bumped her with his shoulder. "What'd you really think?"

  "You should have broken every bone in the Mack's body, not just his scrawny neck."

  His lopsided grin was too adorable for words.

  A blond woman with tear tracks on her cheeks stepped from behind a pillar. Blue stopped abruptly.

  "Pagan," he said, surprised.

  Instant guilt.

  "If I can't have you, no one can." The girl aimed a .44 and squeezed off two shots before Evie had time to process what was happening.

  Blue's body jerked once, twice before a crimson flood sprang forth, soaking his shirt. It looked like two valves had burst inside him.

  Crimson. Blood.

  Not Blue. Anyone but Blue.

  Pagan sprinted off. Evie wanted to chase after her, so badly, but she wanted to see to Blue more. Concern coursed through her as she dug through her purse, searching for the first-aid kit she'd decided to carry only this morning, thinking Blue might have a few cuts and bruises after the game.

  He pressed his fists into the wounds, then lifted his blood-soaked fingers to the light. Fury bathed his expression. "I'll be fine. Go get her. Bring her back. Mostly alive."

  "Blue, you're--"

  "Evie."

  Fine. She tossed him the kit and launched into motion, following the path the human had taken. As she ran, she palmed her pyre, her gaze constantly scanning . . . there! The blonde shut the driver's-side door to a navy blue BMW. And she had clearly already programmed her escape route into the GPS, because the vehicle darted into motion.

  I don't think so.

  Evie aimed. Fired.

  A stream of golden light arrowed to the back tire, and the vehicle slowed, stopped. That was the problem with preprogrammed systems. One little thing went wrong, and the entire vehicle shut down.

  Evie closed the distance and jerked at the door. Locked. She aimed the gun at the window and said, "Open it and get out on your own, or I'll open it and drag your bleeding carcass out."

  Wide, watery blue eyes stared at her for a long moment. Pagan's gun rested on the passenger seat, but she didn't reach for it. Her empty, trembling hands pushed the door out of the way.

  "Slowly," Evie commanded.

  Pagan straightened at a snail's pace, gripping the side of the door to remain standing as her knees knocked together.

  Evie had once felt bad for this woman. And, okay, a part of her still did. But shooting Blue? Hell, no. That wasn't allowed.

  "D-don't hurt me," Pagan stuttered. "Please. I'm . . . pregnant. With Blue's baby. Please, just let me go."

  Pregnant? Hardly. Blue was smarter than that. "Don't be that girl. Now step away from the car, and drop to your knees."

  Tears falling in earnest, Pagan obeyed. Evie moved behind her, dug a pair of laser cuffs from her purse, and fastened them around her wrists. When Evie pressed the center, the cuffs lit up, bonding to Pagan's skin. If she tried to break free, she'd lose her hands.

  Evie helped her to her feet. A little push between her shoulders propelled her forward.

  Blue hadn't budged. He'd removed his shirt and strapped bandages over the wounds, but the cotton was already soaked in blood. Evie's anger revved back up.

  "Knees," she commanded, forcing Pagan to the ground. Then she placed the barrel of the gun at the back of the girl's head. "I wouldn't try anything else, yeah. I'm already looking for an excuse to end you."

  A sob bubbled from the girl. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Blue. I didn't mean to kill you, I just . . . I'm so sorry. I wanted you to hurt the way I'm hurting."

  "I know," he said, and his gentle tone surprised Evie. "But you could spend the rest of your life in prison for this, Pagan."

  Her head bowed. Her body shuddered.

  "Tell him what you told me," Evie snapped.

  "I'm . . . not," the girl said, her shoulders hunching in. "I lied."

  "About?" Blue asked.

  Evie met his gaze. "Pregnancy."

  His lips pressed into a thin, firm line.

  "I'm sorry," Pagan said again.

  He sighed. "I'm going to let you go."

  "What?" the girl gasped.

  "Yeah," Evie said, baffled. Mercy from a hardened agent? "What?"

  "Go home. Get some help. Don't approach me again. Don't approach Evie. You do, and I'll consider you a threat and act accordingly."

  "Yes, yes." A stream of rapid nods. "All right. I promise."

  He looked to Evie, his expression granite hard. "Release her."

  Though she wanted to argue, she removed the bands. Pagan drew her wrists to her chest and rubbed at the sensitized skin. "Thank you, Blue." She stood, saying, "I'm sorry for what I did, I really am."

  "Go," he said.

  She didn't have to be told twice. Off she scampered.

  "Well, that was stupid," Evie said, disappointed, relieved, and a thousand other conflicting emotions. "She'll try again."

  "No. It's out of her system. And besides that, it was deserved."

  Hello self-recrimination. "Blue--"

  "No," he said. "Don't say it."

  "I will say it. What happened wasn't deserved."

  He gave her a small smile. "Let's go home and get these damn bullets out of me."

  "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."

  Seventeen

  EVIE WASN'T SURPRISED THAT Blue remained conscious during the drive. There was no man stronger. But she was concerned by the amount of blood he was losing, and the way he was staring straight ahead, his breathing choppy, his heartbeat too hard and too fast every time she checked.

  "Distract me," he said.

  "How?"

  "Talk to me. Tell me about your life."

  No way she could refuse. "Well . . . I tested out of school, and attended university at the age of thirteen. I majored in chemical engineering, my first love, but Mum made sure I took private classes on weapons technology and security."

  He frowned. "You were too young."

  "Yeah. Believe me, I know. Kids never let me forget. No friends, but lots of teasing."

  "No wonder you're so guarded."

  "Guarded? Me?"

  He snorted. "You know you are."

  Maybe. Okay, definitely. Letting people in was tough. Caring about someone other than yourself made you vulnerable. Left you wide open for all kinds of hurt. And if you lost a loved one? You would never be the same.

  No pain no gain, though. Right?

  Ugh. Stupid cliche. But, okay, s
he got the gist. Letting people in also came with great rewards. You'd have someone to rely on. Someone to protect your back. Someone to pick you up when you were down.

  "How did you become a doctor?" he asked.

  "Medicine was already in my wheelhouse. When I worked with people in drug trials, I realized I enjoyed the fruits of one-on-one contact, making individuals better. I switched my focus, and pharmacology became a hobby." The NOW--New World Order--allowed students to dive into their chosen field without retaking subjects they'd mastered in high school. "However, I opted not to take a residency and instead came to the New States to be with Michael. He trained me for two years before sending me on that first fateful mission."

  "I knew you were young when you started working with him, but wow. Only twenty."

  "How old were you on your first mission?"

  "Mission, twelve. Kill, fourteen."

  Blimey! "Now that's bloody young."

  "Yeah, but I trained with Michael since the age of five. He'd found me on the streets and placed me with my human family. He paired me with John and Solo. He gave me a purpose."

  No wonder Blue loved her father so much.

  No wonder her father loved him. They'd been together a long time. Relied on each other a long time. "I was jealous of you, you know. During our first meeting."

  He shook his head, as if he'd misheard. "Jealous of me? Why?"

  "For the entire two years I spent with Michael, he talked about you and your magnificence. 'Blue's so good at this. Blue's so good at that.' What a privilege it was to work with you, blah, blah, blah. It was quite disgusting. I'd waited my whole life to be with him, only to see his devotion directed at someone else."

  He gave her a small, sad smile. "That explains a lot."

  "Yeah. But it wasn't your fault, and I'm sorry for the way I treated you."

  "You keep saying that."

  "Because it's true. I am."

  "If I can get past it, you can, too. Stop apologizing."

  "Are you, though?" she continued softly. "Are you past it?"

  He reached over to smooth a lock of hair behind her ear, grimaced at the smear of blood he left behind, and dropped his arm. "I really think I am."

  Think was far better than no.

  "But even if I wasn't," he added, "you wouldn't need to apologize again. You said it, you meant it with all your heart. If that's not good enough for me, the problem is with me and you'd be better off dumping my ass."

  "I--"

  "Don't dump my ass," he rushed out, and she smiled. "The only thing I'll ever make you beg for is pleasure."

  They reached the house before she could question him further. Her beautiful redbrick home had three sets of windows on both stories, everything lit up by strategically placed night-lights. At the side of the house, she went down, down, down the ramp into the basement garage.

  She parked and rushed to Blue's side to offer her body as a crutch. He refused, linking their fingers and leading her inside. He-man, she thought with a shiver. Such strength.

  He took her straight to the top floor, to the suite of rooms she'd turned into a woman's paradise. There were plush couches and chairs made of real leather and drapes of velvet, plus gilded mirrors, and cherrywood furnishings. Her favorite? The huge bed with marble posts, swathed in ice-blue fabrics.

  "Sit," she commanded. In the bathroom, she grabbed her medical bag from under the sink.

  He was in the same place she'd left him. Standing.

  "I told you to sit."

  "No way. The moment I bleed on your sheets, you'll stick me with a bill for a couple thousand dollars."

  True. "You can afford it."

  "Not if I continue to hemorrhage cash at Chez Black."

  Their arms brushed as she moved past him, and she gasped as bolts of white lightning flashed through her. Flushing, she set the bag on the nightstand and dug through the contents, removing everything she would need. Bullet extractor, hand sanitizer, two syringes of cell regenerator, bandages, and wet wipes. All packaged and sterilized.

  "I'm surprised you didn't have these supplies in your purse," he said. "Speaking of, have you added anything new?"

  "Here." She lifted the strap over her head and handed the entire bag to him. "Have a peek."

  As she spread a plastic tarp over the bed, making sure the protective cover draped all the way to the floor, he said, "A moon rock, a glass eye, a retractable blade, a socket wrench, and 3-D glasses." He grinned at her. "You have to tell me. Why a glass eye?"

  "I thought you might lose a real one during the game and didn't want to stare at an empty socket. Now, lie down."

  He both laughed and hissed as he stretched out on the mattress.

  "Here," she said. "Let me shoot you up with--"

  "No. No drugs. Want to stay awake and keep a clear head."

  "You'll hurt."

  "I'm not afraid of pain, princess."

  She cleaned her hands and removed the bandages he'd applied. There were two wounds, both the size of a quarter and still leaking blood. "I've done a little research on Arcadian anatomy since the last time we were in this position. You'll find I'm a better doctor this go-round."

  "You were great before."

  A compliment? Injured Blue was sweet. She'd have to remember that. "Ready?" she asked, placing the cups on the extractor over both wounds.

  "Do it."

  With the press of a button, the cups adhered to his chest, the camera mapped the best course for exit, and the suction slowly pulled the bullets out of his body. He cursed only eight times.

  "Not better," he gritted. "You are definitely not better."

  Don't grin. "Need another distraction?" she asked. "Because what happens next is going to feel a thousand times worse."

  "Yeah. Distract me."

  She lobbed her first question. "Are you truly attracted to me?"

  He blinked up at her. "Are you kidding me?"

  "Dead serious."

  "You actually have to ask?"

  "Yes. I'm not even close to being your type."

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. "So, your real question is whether or not I'm using you for something. Thanks a lot."

  "You couldn't be more wrong. The question had nothing to do with your reasons and everything to do with my own insecurities. There haven't been many men interested in inserting themselves into my life, not for long anyway, yet here you are and I just don't get what I have to offer you."

  The faint lines around his eyes softened. "I am truly attracted to you, Evie Black. And it's a strong attraction. The strongest I've ever experienced. Even though I've tried to fight it--and that statement has nothing to do with any kind of type."

  The strongest he'd ever experienced was with her? Watch Evie melt into a puddle of goo. "Then what?"

  "What else? Your father. According to him, you're off-limits."

  So . . . he didn't want to upset Michael. Was that why he hadn't gone all the way with her? "Well, he'll never know what transpires between us."

  "He will. I'll tell him."

  What? "Blue--"

  "I'm not going to hide it, Evie."

  He had a freaking conscience. Great. "Then we'll tell him after we've found John. Not that there's much to tell," she grumbled.

  "You complaining?"

  "Well, yeah. Was that not clear? I thought that was clear."

  Again his lips quirked at the corners. "How long has it been since you've had sex?"

  "Why?" Could he tell she was out of practice?

  "Let's call it curiosity and leave it at that."

  Heat bloomed in her chest. "The last time, I was twenty-three," she admitted.

  "And you're, what? Twenty-six now?" He nearly choked on his tongue. "Why? How could you go three years without it?"

  "I was a bit of a wild child, all right, sleeping with any older university guy who'd pay attention to me. I was used a lot, and I started to feel dirty. At seventeen, I decided to wait for a meaningful relationship. That never happened,
so from seventeen to twenty-three, I got good at being alone. Then, after Claire, I was looking to punish myself, I suppose, and ended up in some stranger's bed, disgusted with myself. After that, my body just sort of shut down."

  He said nothing.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip.

  "Do you think less of me now?" she asked softly. If he does, I deserve it. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back his respect.

  He could have teased her the way she'd always teased him. He could have called her a slut and a whore, or worse. But he did none of those things.

  "I don't think less of you. I think more of you. You picked yourself up from a situation you despised. That takes a hell of a lot of strength."

  He was a better man than she'd ever given him credit for.

  His eyelids dipped to half-mast and he grinned. "Your body isn't shut down now, is it, princess?"

  Completely out of character, she leaned down and kissed his forehead. "You were right, you know. I was so obsessed with your sex life because I wanted you to be a part of mine. I'm sorry I judged you. I had no right. I think I did it because I was miserable about my own past, and misery loves company."

  An emotion shifted in his eyes, but she wasn't sure what it was. "I told you to stop apologizing."

  "No," she added, ignoring his last words. "It's not shut down now."

  Back to work. Before she broke down. She inserted the top half of one of the syringes inside the wound closest to his heart and squeezed out the contents. As he unleashed a stream of profanity, she did the same to the other wound.

  "Has anyone ever called you Dr. Hodad?" he growled.

  "No. And what does that even mean, anyway?"

  "Hands of death and destruction."

  "Ha! I like that name. You may continue to refer to me as Dr. Hodad." She cleaned his chest, then her hands. "You lost a lot of blood."

  "This isn't the first time, and it won't be the last."

  "You might need a transfu--"

  "No," he said with a shake of his head. "Arcadians do not share blood, and human blood wouldn't help."

  "Why don't you share blood within your own race?"

  "It creates an unbreakable bond. Remember Dallas? He said the Arcadian king fed him blood to heal him. Now the agent is forced to do whatever Kyrin en Arr tells him to do."

  Ouch. Like Blue, Evie would rather die than become a slave.

  "Close your eyes and get some sleep," she said. She placed another soft, sweet kiss on his brow. "I can tell you're weaker than you're letting on because I can't feel your power."

  He reached out and snagged her hand. "Don't leave."

  She tugged gently at his earlobe. "I won't. I'll be here when you wake up. Because, bluestocking? There's no place else I'd rather be."