Black and Blue

Eight

“WE COULD BE DEALING with the men who bombed my father’s house,” Evie said. “Maybe they’re here to end you for good.”

“Maybe,” Blue replied, “but I’m presumed dead, and this isn’t my car. You are a more likely target.”

She shook her head, so close to him the end of her ponytail brushed his arm. “Your body was never found. You’re not presumed dead.”

“No one saw me go into my house. No one saw me go into yours, either.”

“No one that we know about.”

She had an answer for everything.

“I’m sure, Evie,” he said, his tone flat. “I would have sensed if I was being followed. I’m never not aware.”

“I’ll ignore the double negative and agree with you.” She released a heavy breath. “So say I am the target. What’s the motive? Why now?”

Why indeed. “Because the AIR agent came to visit you and you’re now a liability? Because Michael is missing and the bad guy wants to use you as bait? Should I go on?”

“No,” she grumbled. “Those two did the trick.”

Well, what do you know? He’d won another argument. And this time victory was oh, so sweet. “Are the occupants human?” he asked the computer. “Or otherworlder?”

“Unsure.”

Too bad. “Any New Chicago PD posted along the road?”

“Checking . . . Yes. The nearest patrol unit is ten miles north.”

He knew the area to avoid, then.

“How do I put the shields up?” he asked Evie. “Assuming you have shields.”

“Like I would ever own a vehicle without shields. And the method is kind of complicated, so pay close attention.” She cleared her throat, then said, “Engage shields. Now.”

Clear armor came out of hiding, wrapping around the car to protect it from enemy fire.

He shook his head in exasperation—and, okay, a little amusement. “Program the operating system to accept my voice commands.”

All she said was “Accept Blue. All access.”

“Engage manual steering panel. Now,” he said. The moment he had the wheel in hand, he switched lanes, careful to maintain the same speed—for the moment.

The sedan remained where it was, playing innocent.

With only a thought, Blue could force the cars around him to swerve into the vehicle’s path, but that would put innocents in danger, maybe even cause a few deaths. He had some scruples.

“Are you okay with me putting a few dings and scratches in your car?” he asked Evie.

“Strip her to the studs. I don’t care. Just nail those bloody bastards to the wall. I’d like a chat-up.”

Perfect answer, and sexy as hell, her excitement making her accent thicker.

He wanted to kiss her.

You can’t ever kiss her.

“You mean a conversation?” When dealing with Honey Badger, it was best to be clear.

“That’s what I said.”

Well, all right, then. “Here goes.” He yanked the car to the right and slammed his foot on the gas, shooting off the highway. The sedan gave up all pretense of innocence and followed. Tires squealed as the sensors on the cars around them engaged, automated systems performing deep swerves to avoid a collision.

Evie dug through her purse, withdrawing the modified pyre-gun she’d brandished earlier. “Get me the angle I need and I’ll disable the car,” she said, dialing the internal crystal to its highest setting.

I think I’m turned on—again.

“I want to get to a less populated area first.” An intersection loomed ahead, the light red. There were three lanes. Two were clogged with traffic. One was open, but for right turns only.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Shots fired,” the computer stated calmly.

“Blimey,” Evie cursed. “Obviously our shadow doesn’t care about hurting others.”

“They’ll get theirs.” Blue increased his speed, staying in the turn lane, even though he wasn’t going to turn. He flew through the intersection, jerking the wheel this way, then that way, stopping oncoming traffic and directing the cars out of harm’s way. “You have my word.”

Rather than keeping to the side roads, Blue zipped back onto the highway.

“They’re about to fire again,” Evie said.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Shields can only withstand two more rounds before failing,” the computer announced.

Great. Blue revved the turbo-booster and shot into warp speed, weaving through traffic, searching for the perfect place to—

There.

A bridge. Very little traffic in front, only the tail in back.

“Incoming,” Evie warned.

“Almost there.”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Get ready, moon tart,” he said, pressing a button to lower the passenger window. Violent wind blustered inside the car. “Don’t try to get the men, just try to blow their tires.”

“Duh. This isn’t my first rodeo, cowboy.”

He really hoped she was a good shot.

“You’ll have less than a second to—” the computer began.

“I know!” Evie growled. “Shut up.”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The moment Blue crossed the bottom edge of the bridge, he threw the car into a spin. Suddenly, Evie was facing the other vehicle. She found her target and squeezed off a single shot. A bright yellow laser blasted out, slamming into the vehicle’s front left tire at the same time another bullet hit her door.

The shield had been damaged beyond repair, and the bullet shot through the metal to embed in the console directly in front of her.

So close to hitting her, Blue thought, trembling with sudden rage.

“Nailed it!” she said, happy.

He straightened out the car and slowed, watching in the rearview mirror as rubber melted and the sedan began a tailspin of its own before flipping over and rolling, the roof crashing into the road, then the tires slamming into the road, then the roof, then the tires, until finally stopping on its belly.

Smoke wafted through the air as he came to a halt. Clasping his gun, he jumped out and raced toward the crash site. He was halfway there when a brutal gush of molten wind shoved him backward, lifting him as if he weighed no more than a feather. A piercing boom scraped at his ears, making them ring. He landed with a hard thunk, a door handle dropping from the sky and clanking beside him.

Been here, done this shit already.

As he stood, he watched flames engulf what was left of the vehicle.

That had been an intentional blast. Most likely, whoever sent these men to nab—kill?—Evie hadn’t wanted anyone caught and questioned. Planting a self-destruct bomb would have been easy.

Blue’s rage exploded with the same viciousness, and he struggled to rein it in as he marched to Evie’s car.

She stood in the passenger doorway, her hand braced against the open window. Her hair had come loose from the ponytail and framed her soot-streaked face in tangled waves.

“Well, that sucks,” she said.

No smart remarks. No recrimination directed at him.

He stopped. Just stopped and tried to catch his breath. She was beautiful and here and alive, unharmed, the knowledge battering at the desire he tried so valiantly to deny. He wanted her. More than that, he needed her. Inside, his Arcadian power tugged at a flimsy leash. He’d been too worked up lately. Too agitated, too hungry, too angry, with zero release.

Each one magnified his rage.

“I am so pissed off right now,” he snarled.

“Uh, I can tell,” she said, not sounding worried. “Your eyes are glowing.”

Glowing past the contacts? That was bad. Very, very bad. Soon a surge of pure energy would leave his body, frying everything around him. Unless . . . No. No, he wouldn’t. “You need to leave, Evie. Get in the car and drive away. I’ll meet you at the ruins.”

“As if!” The foolish girl approached him. “What’s going on with you?”

“Evie!”

“If we’re friends, you’ll tell me,” she insisted. “Maybe I can help.”

Low blow, using the friendship he’d insisted on. “I have more Arcadian abilities than anyone knows. I’m more powerful than anyone knows.” He’d never told anyone the full scope of his badassery, not even Michael. Humans feared what they didn’t understand, and he didn’t want his friends to fear him. “Sometimes that power builds up and requires an outlet.”

She thought for a moment. “Kind of like the world’s worst temper tantrum with deadly results?”

He nearly choked on his tongue. She wasn’t afraid of him, and clearly she never would be. “Yes.”

“What kind of outlet?” she asked.

“A physical fight.” He paused, watching her expression for the minutest change. “Sex.”

No horror. Only interest.

The interest nearly slayed him.

“In that case . . .” she said. She punched him once, twice, three times. “Better?”

Each of the blows knocked his head to the side. Blood trickled into his mouth, and sharp stings registered.

Amusement doused the hottest threads of the rage—but not his sexual hunger. He spit out the blood, his desire for her even worse. “Amendment. I have to do the beating.”

“Oh. Well, my bad. I’m going to decline on that one.”

“That one will never be offered to you.”

“But the other . . .”

Yeah. The other. Sex. He noticed she didn’t move away from him but stayed right where she was. Her gaze locked on his lips, and she began to pant.

Thinking of kissing him?

Maybe. Her adrenaline must have skyrocketed. He knew his had.

He stepped closer, unable to resist.

She did the same.

And then he was on her, wrapping his arms around her and jerking her into the hard line of his body. His tongue thrust into her mouth, demanding a response. She gave it, kissing him back with a passion he’d never before encountered, as if she had been starving all her life and he was her first meal.

Desire burned him from the inside out, sparking a fire in his blood, driving him torward the car. He lifted her to the trunk and forced her legs to spread and cage his hips. With his hands on her lower back, he yanked her against him and directed her into a hard, fast grind against his erection.

Hell yeah!

She groaned, and it was the most delicious sound.

The pleasure of her . . . it was almost too much. . . . Her breasts rubbed against his chest, and he could feel the stiff peaks of her nipples. All the while, he continued to feed her a down-and-dirty kiss that mimicked exactly what he wanted to do to the rest of her. Hard, almost punishing. Taking. Demanding.

He couldn’t get enough of her. The honey of her taste was a drug. Beyond addictive.

Necessary to sustain life.

Power seeped from his pores, and he suspected Evie could feel it, because little moans kept rising from deep in her throat, and her fingers kept brushing up and down the exposed skin on his arms . . . until her hands were tangled in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp; she angled his head just the way she wanted it. He liked that. Liked that she demanded and took with the same fervency he used.

She sucked the piercing in his bottom lip, and a low growl reverberated from him.

More. He needed more. He needed all. He needed her naked, and open. He needed to graze her nipples with his teeth. Needed to devour her between her legs, then pound inside her, deep, so deep she would feel him for days afterward. He needed to hear her cries of rapture.

Yes. He reached for the hem of her shirt, ready to tear the thing off her.

A siren wailed in the background, and Evie stiffened.

“Wait. Stop.” She drew in a deep breath and shoved at him. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “This is wrong.”

Wrong? No. He—

Wasn’t kissing his fiancée.

Yes. This was wrong.

A tide of disgust rolled through him, and with a step back—physically and emotionally—he increased the distance between them.

Evie stood and did the same, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as if she couldn’t bear to deal with his taste a second longer. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“I know.” He wasn’t in love with Pagan, true, but he’d given her a ring. He had rules. Rules he should have followed.

He was ashamed.

He had just betrayed Michael in the worst possible way. Michael, who had done so much for him throughout the years but had only ever asked for one thing in return. That he leave his daughter alone.

I’m scum.

Correction, I’m worse than scum.

Blue had disrespected the man, and for what? Momentary pleasure.

Perfect phrase. Momentary pleasure. That was all Evie could ever be.

She wasn’t like Pagan. She would never accept the fact that he had to be with other women, no matter the reason for his actions. She would murder him, and perhaps even murder the female, totally unwilling to concede that what he did was a necessary evil of the job.

He—

Liked that, he realized, a little dazed. Wanted a woman to fight for him. To desire him, and him alone. To crave his unerring devotion and insist upon it.

Who are you?

“It was the moment,” Evie said, her voice hollow. “The rush of surviving the chase and explosion.”

Was it? “I know,” he repeated, his own voice just as hollow.

He didn’t know.

He’d been attracted to this girl from the beginning. Maybe she’d been attracted to him just as long. Maybe it had happened only recently for her. But the fact remained. They were into each other, no matter how wrong it was.

They’d have to be careful.

“Are you good now?” she asked.

Was he? The leash on his power was reinforced, but his mind was in turmoil. Never again taste that honey? Never again feel those teacup breasts smashed against his chest? Never again rub between her legs?

Never thrust his fingers deep?

Impossible.

“I’ll be fine,” he gritted. “Let’s go before the cops arrive.”

They returned to the car, settled inside.

As he reprogrammed the GPS, he said, “As soon as I rise from the dead, I’m telling Pagan it’s over.” He’d just cheated on her for real. Yeah, he’d told her there would be other women, but this was different.

This had been of his own volition.

He really was a he-slut.

There was no way to make this right. No way to reclaim his honor, but he could do an honorable thing. He could set Pagan free, allowing her to find someone else. Someone deserving of her.

“I hope you’re not doing that on my account,” Evie said, peering out the window, hiding her expression. “That was our first and last kiss. It’s never going to happen again.”

He’d just thought the same thing—and yet, it still irritated him to hear her say it. “Don’t worry, flower petal. Getting involved with you is the last thing I want to do.”