Black and Blue

Twenty-six

TIFFANY WAS STILL SLEEPING when they reached New Chicago. And she was still sleeping when they carted her to a cage in Michael’s underground room at the boathouse. Nothing roused her. In fact, she was still sleeping an hour later.

“Go home,” Michael finally said. “Eat. Get some rest. You’re all operating on pure adrenaline. She’ll be here in the morning. Or afternoon. Whatever.”

Solo took off to be with Vika—where he’d left her, no one knew.

Blue and Evie weren’t far behind. They stopped to pick up a bag of Evie’s things, then drove to his safe house and fell into bed, exhausted.

When her phone rang, however many hours later, bright light slanted through the curtains. She groped for the cell perched on the nightstand.

“Hello?” she rasped.

“Sorry, sunbeam, but I need to speak with Blue,” her father said, “and he’s not answering his phone.”

“Hang on.” Groggy, Evie tried to hand the cell to Blue, who was curled tightly around her body, holding her as if he feared she would slip away.

“Put it on speaker,” he muttered. “I like where my arms are.”

She pressed a button. “You’re on, Daddy.”

“I sent a message through certain underground contacts, letting them know I have Tiffany. They let Star know. He called me but refused to talk about terms. He wants to talk directly to you, Blue.”

“All right. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Also, Tiffany has woken,” Michael added. “I spoke to her at length and even used Evie’s truth serum, but I got no answers out of her. She’s definitely had some improvements since you last saw her.”

Blue stiffened. “Well, then, we’ve been asking too nicely. Might be time to change that.”

Evie hung up and set the cell on the nightstand. She dug through her bag, picked the purse she wanted, and filled it with everything she thought she might need. A golf ball, a pair of glasses, a coaster, a Rubik’s Cube, three tubes of lipstick, all in a different shade, and a package of freeze-dried ice cream.

“More weapons?” he asked, startling her when she realized he was standing behind her.

“Yeah. When I fit my fingers into certain grooves in the golf ball, it’s activated, and poisoned smoke will fill the air. You can breath it in, and that’s fine, but if it comes into contact with your eyes, you’re in trouble. And the Rubik’s Cube is actually a bomb. Line up certain colors, and you get to watch a room go boom boom.”

Grinning, he tugged her into his embrace for a quick kiss. “You are too adorable for words.”

“Uh, Blue. I hate to break it to you, but I think there’s something wrong with you if you find a girl with weapons of destruction adorable.”

“So adorable. Or should I say ‘adorbs’?”

She punched his arm, but inside, she was as giddy as a little schoolgirl.

The boat ride proved uneventful, for which she was grateful. She used the time to get her focus off Blue and what he made her feel and onto the Stars and John. The entire ordeal was almost over. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

Her father was in the spacious living room, cleared of all but a table piled high with weapons, a lounge chair, a few computers, and now a cage. Tiffany was trapped inside. Dirt and tears smeared her cheeks, and her shirt and jeans were ripped and wrinkled. There were angry cuts running the length of both of her arms, and one across her neck. She looked nothing like the elegant woman Evie saw at the victory party.

Tiffany paled when she spotted Blue, stood, and curled her fingers around the bars of her cage. “You’d be wise to leave,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

“You’d be wise to give us the answers we seek,” he snapped, “before I make use of the tools on the table. That happens, and you’ll pray for death. But you won’t get it.” He looked to Evie. “You want to watch me work, princess?”

“Would love to, Mr. Hammer.” He deposited her in a chair at the computers, kissed her, kissed her again, and stalked to Michael, who waited at the table, cleaning a dagger.

“Where’s Solo?”

“On his way,” Michael replied. “I have Star’s number, if you want to call him.”

He smiled coldly at Tiffany. “Yeah. Let’s get him good and scared about what I’m going to do to her.”

Blue was so ready for this to be over. He wanted to move into Evie’s officially, or move her into his place. He wanted to take her on a date. Their first. He wanted to ask her to marry him.

Yeah, he realized. He did.

He wanted her to wholly belong to him. To be his family.

He wanted her ensconced in every part of his life. And he wanted to be ensconced in every part of hers, whether she did a little agenting or went back to the hospital as she’d originally planned. He wanted to romance her so hard she offered her heart on a silver freaking platter.

He just plain wanted.

Michael held out a cell phone. “You’ll need this. And you’ll also need to stop staring at my daughter.”

He blinked into focus, only then realizing he’d switched his attention to Evie.

She offered him a knowing—wicked—smile.

He winked at her, then shifted his gaze. Tiffany sobbed quietly.

He hardened his heart and dialed Star’s number.

Two rings in, the male answered with “Well, well. Someone finally remembered he’s at war” in lieu of a greeting.

“You know we have your daughter and you know what we want. Let’s not play games.”

“Mr. Blue,” a low growl crackled. “Where is she?”

“Somewhere you’ll never find her.”

“You don’t want to do this. I will kill your friend and send you the pieces.”

“Despite the money you would lose?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve done more for less.”

Blue’s laugh was devoid of humor. “I could say the same. You hurt John any more than you already have, and I’ll do the same to your little girl. In fact, as soon as we hang up, I’ll take her fingers and make myself a real pretty necklace from the bones. Or maybe I’ll remove her skin the way you removed John’s.”

A hiss of fury.

“So, where does that leave us?” he finished casually.

Silence dominated the line for several seconds. “I suppose you want to trade.”

“I do.”

“And you would trust me to keep up my end.”

“Of course not. I would force you to keep up your end.”

Another hiss. “I want to talk to her first. Proof of life.”

“That’s great, wonderful. I’ll let you. Just as soon as I’ve spoken to John.”

“I thought you’d say that. Sadly, he’s not in the mood to speak right now. However, if you’ll glance at your screen, I’ll show you a video of him.”

Dread filled Blue as he lowered the phone. An electronic notebook was held up, displaying that day’s paper. Then the notebook was removed, and a small concrete room came into view. The walls were gray. There was a bed—a gurney, really—with a huge red lump in the center.

A red lump that was . . . that was . . .

Blue nearly hunched over and vomited. That red lump was clearly John. He was a mass of meat and blood, without a single inch of skin to protect his insides. His mouth was parted in an endless, agonized scream he probably didn’t have the strength to unleash.

The scene vanished, and Blue shoved the phone back to his ear. His hand was shaking. “You’ll pay for that,” he croaked. “I will make sure you pay.”

Evie came up beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist, offering comfort. He was glad. His knees were knocking and his head swimming with a rage his body couldn’t seem to contain. He was on the brink of cracking and he hadn’t even realized it.

“My turn,” Star said stiffly.

Blue kissed Evie’s temple before stalking to Tiffany’s cage. He held out the phone and pressed Speaker. “Say hello.”

“Are you all right, darling?” Star asked.

Tears beaded in her lashes. Gaze locked on Blue, she shook her head no, her lips smashed together as if she didn’t want to speak.

“Answer him out loud,” Blue snarled.

A heavy pause as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Y-yes, Daddy. I’m all right.”

“Good.” The tenor of Star’s voice had changed. From concerned to commanding. “Then do what I told you to do. My men are already in place.”

Click.

Blue’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I told you that you’d regret this.” Tiffany closed her eyes, tremors rocking her entire body. She breathed in and out, as if trying to calm herself, before bending down and removing one of her shoes. She fit her fingers into grooves at the sides before tossing it in the center of the living room. That done, she grabbed a small silver hook resting at the toe of the other shoe.

Trying not to panic, Blue shook the bars. “What did he mean?”

“My brother found the isotope tracker Miss Black meant to use on him, and figured you’d used one on me,” she said softly. “A little hacking proved him right. My father has been tracking me, too. He knows where I am. He’s known all along. His men are waiting outside the perimeter. And now it’s too late. I have to do what he told me. I have to punish you for embarrassing him. Have to show his clients he can deliver whatever he promises. If not, I’ll be punished. And if not me, then Tyson. I don’t want either of us to be punished. I’m sorry.”

He believed her and knew something terrible was about to go down. He’d brought Evie into an ambush and hadn’t had a clue. Some agent he was. “How many men? What’s the plan?”

Tiffany’s smile was sad. “He said to tell you that you began this way, and so you’ll end this way.”

With that, she tugged on the hook, and a black cloth pulled free. A cloth she spread over her entire body.

This way, she’d said. The shoe. The covering. Blue put two and two together.

Heart slamming against his ribs, he shouted, “Bomb!” and whipped around, diving on top of Evie. They crashed onto the ground just as the shoe bomb detonated.

White-hot heat blasted through the room, lifting him up and ripping Evie from his arms. He landed with a horrible smack, his lungs without air. Smoke was so thick he felt as though he were drowning in it. Debris rained in every direction. Pieces of wall here. Computer parts there. Fires, fires everywhere.

Coughing, Blue staggered to his feet. His leg throbbed. He looked down. His pants had been scorched away. A bone protruded through his skin. Whatever. He stumbled through the smoke. “Evie,” he shouted.

Please be all right. Please be all right.

He found her in the next room and fell to his knees at her side. No. No!

She wasn’t all right.

Her body lay at an odd angle, her spine clearly severed. There were gashes on her cheeks, blood all over her beautiful face. One of her eyes was swollen shut. The other was glassed over as it tracked his motions.

“Blue,” she said, and a crimson river flowed from the side of her mouth. “You okay?”

“Shh. Shh. Don’t talk, baby.” He wasn’t too late. He could fix this. He had to fix this.

He ripped apart what remained of her shirt and flattened both of his hands on her chest, then closed his eyes. In his mind, he saw his very essence sweeping through her, through blood and muscle and bone, trading what remained of his health for every one of her injuries.

Inside, he felt his cells bursting, his tissues ripping, his bones snapping. It hurt. Oh, it hurt. Then his legs went numb. His arms stopped working. His heart stuttered into a warped beat as if it had been nailed into his chest wall by his ribs and couldn’t escape. He fell to the side, barely able to breathe.

Worth it.

Because, a second later, Evie sat up. The swelling had left her face. The gashes had stitched together. She looked over at him and cried out with dismay.

“Blue! No, no, no.” She pressed her fingers into the pulse of his neck. “What did you do? Why did you do it? You idiot! I will never forgive you or myself if something happens to you.”

“Well, I for one am glad he did it.” Tyson Star stomped into the room, the smoke parting as he pointed a gun at her face.

A roar brewed in the back of Blue’s throat, but he was too weak to release it. He tried to gather the strength to put himself in front of Evie, to shield her, but he couldn’t. Frustration and fury battled for supremacy.

“Stand up, Miss Black,” Tyson commanded. He had two black eyes and a cut in the center of his nose.

Courtesy of his last run-in with Evie?

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. She raked her gaze over Blue, as if she meant to start tending him here and now, despite their audience. “I have to—”

“Evangeline,” Blue gasped. “Please. Do what he says.” In a few hours Blue would heal. Maybe faster, if he could get his hands on someone. Someone healthy, that is. Blue could drain their strength, taking it into himself as easily as he’d taken Evie’s injuries. All she had to do was stay alive until then. Once he was strong enough, he would tear Star’s world apart and she would never be threatened again.

Tyson switched his aim, the barrel now pointed at Blue. “Listen to your man before I kill him.”

Evie jumped to her feet. “Okay. Okay. I’m up. But you listen to me, you miserable little worm. Anything you do to him, I will remember and I will revisit upon you a thousand times worse.”

He smiled smugly. “Dead women can’t follow through with their threats.”

Four men marched into the room. One carried an uninjured Tiffany. The other three were empty-handed.

“Where’s the father?” Tyson snapped, the smugness gone. “Michael Black.”

“Either his body is buried under the rubble or he was able to run. Again.”

As he pondered what to do, Tyson flicked the tip of his tongue over an incisor. “Two of you search the surrounding area. If he’s out there, he’s injured. There will be a blood trail. I don’t want to leave anything to chance. Not this time.”

Two of the men rushed out.

To the remaining, empty-handed guard, he said, “Carry the football player to the van.” He glared at Evie and grinned. “I’ll take care of the girl.”