Black and Blue oa-2 Page 14

  “Clear,” she said.

  He removed her mask for her and set it aside for the return trip. “Fresh air is being fed into the vents by an outside source.” He wondered who owned the building. Because although the entire structure looked ready to collapse, that was reinforced steel on the walls. The place was probably strong enough to withstand any kind of storm, natural or artificial.

  “Blue, you bloody wanker!” she suddenly belted out.

  He blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “You lied!” She dug through her bag, withdrew a bundle of wet wipes, and cleaned the curve under his eye.

  He let her, caught up in the blood-heating, gut-wrenching pleasure of her touch.

  “I didn’t lie. I said I’d be fine, and I am. I’m already healing,” he muttered gruffly.

  “Well, I’m still ticked.”

  “Do you want to rip out my kidneys and stomp on them like you’re making wine?”

  “For starters.”

  Fighting a grin, he led her through a maze of empty halls and rooms. As expected, none of Star’s men were here. However, in the far room, they came across a hooded man strapped to a chair. Beside him was a table littered with bloodstained weapons and syringes.

  Not Solo. Too small.

  Disappointment struck.

  “Who are you?” Evie demanded, giving the guy’s chair a little kick.

  His body jolted in surprise. “Evangeline Black?”

  Her shocked gaze landed on Blue. “Agent Gutierrez?”

  No way.

  Blue stalked forward and tore away the crimson-soaked hood to reveal an equally crimson-soaked man.

  Swollen ocean-blue eyes took zero time to adjust to the sudden flood of light, lasering in on Blue, then Evie, then back to Blue. “Free me. Now.”

  “Uh, I don’t think we will,” Evie said. “Not until you’ve answered a few questions.”

  “Free me,” he insisted, “or I’ll hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

  Fury wound around Blue as surely as a rope, dragging him into a hissing, snapping pit of malevolence. “Don’t threaten the girl. You do, and I won’t bother with threats of my own. I’ll just start cutting.”

  Looking at the agent, Evie leaned down and said in a stage whisper, “My partner is very good with a knife.”

  Dallas ignored her. Focused on Blue, he grinned an evil grin; there was blood on his teeth. “Well, well. If it isn’t the football star that once dated my partner’s girl, Noelle Tremain. Funny seeing you here.”

  “Yeah. Real hilarious. Now, who tied you up and tortured you?”

  Dallas’s grin spread wider. In a silky voice the agent said, “You will let me go. You want to let me go.”

  It took a moment for comprehension to dawn, and when it did, amazement was right there, waiting. The man was human, and yet he had just tried—and succeeded—to use voice compulsion, an Arcadian ability.

  Blue threw out his arm to stop Evie from moving, expecting her to try to obey the male.

  She didn’t. She growled with sudden outrage, obviously immune. “You actually thought it was a good move to force us to do stuff we don’t want to do? Let’s see how I react to that.” Her fist slammed into his jaw, and the entire chair skidded to the side.

  That’s my girl.

  No, not my girl.

  “I mean it,” Dallas said, this time sounding confused and desperate. “You want to let me go.”

  She hit him a second time. Harder. “If you aren’t already brain damaged, you’re about to be. Are you sure you want to keep running that road?”

  “Let me try something.” Blue decided to get down and dirty and pressed his booted foot between Dallas’s legs. “How are you able to use voice compulsion?”

  Gritting his teeth against the pain, Dallas said, “Your friend asked the same thing. By the way, he used the same methods. Ask me how well they worked. Not that I’ll answer that, either.”

  “Friend?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  “I want a name.”

  Dallas spit blood at him.

  Whatever. Blue didn’t care about his audience. This was too important. He pushed his power into his hands, and both lit up like rockets. Then he brushed them through the air in front of him, a screen of sorts forming. Colors appeared.

  A scene took shape in the center. A scene from ten minutes before.

  Blue watched as Solo—alive and well—pressed his boot between Dallas’s legs. “What do you know about Gregory Star?”

  “I get that you’re a big, bad dude and all, but do you really have to keep me in the hood?” the agent said from the screen. “I already know who you are. We met at the circus, remember? And don’t try to deny it. I recognize your voice.”

  “What the hell is going on?” real-time Dallas demanded.

  Blue ignored him.

  Solo pressed harder, and screen-Dallas hissed. “You’re a friend of Kitten’s, one of my cage mates, and that’s the only reason you’re still alive. But I’m looking for my friend, John No Last Name, and I will maim for information. Maim in ways that will make me a monster, and you a man with a death wish. So, you have—”

  The screen went blank.

  Blue almost couldn’t contain his joy. Solo was alive and well.

  “Forget what just happened,” Dallas said. “Judging by the look on your face, I can tell you weren’t aware your pal Solo snuck into my home, knocked me around, brought me here, tied me up, beat me up, and asked all kinds of questions I refused to answer.”

  He couldn’t respond. Solo was alive and well.

  Solo was alive and well and in New Chicago.

  Solo was alive and well and in New Chicago, trying to find John.

  Relief bombarded him, nearly buckling his knees.

  He couldn’t stay still. He turned to Evie and drew her into his arms. Her little body trembled against him, but she didn’t hesitate to wrap herself around him, holding on tight. He buried his face in the hollow of her neck, breathing in the honey and almonds that seemed to be infused into her skin.

  Maybe he was a pansy, because tears burned the backs of his eyes. He didn’t care.

  A moment to bask—fine.

  More than that? No!

  He had to force himself to release her, to return to the interrogation. “If you know anything about John No Last Name, Agent Gutierrez, I suggest you tell me. Otherwise, I will gut you where you sit and not feel a moment of remorse. Unlike Solo, I won’t walk away and leave you for someone else to find.”

  That wasn’t Solo’s usual MO, either. So . . . was the agent a gift? Had the warrior known Blue would come?

  If so, why not stay to greet him?

  The corners of Dallas’s mouth lifted in a parody of a grin. “I formally invite you, Solo, and even Miss Black to go screw yourselves.”

  Evie snorted. “You gotta give him credit. He’s quite amusing, isn’t he?”

  Frustration ate at Blue. “You’ve been investigating Gregory Star, yet you haven’t plugged your findings into a single database. Why?”

  “Why don’t you guess?” Dallas said, refusing to back down.

  “All right,” he replied, lifting a scalpel from the table and testing its weight in his hand. “You don’t like Gregory Star for some reason—maybe because of that Kitten chick Solo mentioned—and you’re planning to punish him old-school. You don’t want him going to trial. You want him dead. How am I doing so far?”

  Dallas paled and tried to cover the tell with a yawn. “I’m bored.”

  “Shall I question Kitten next?” Blue asked.

  A mouthful of curses hurtled his way. “Leave Kitten out of this. She was horribly abused at that circus, and hasn’t recovered.”

  Blue was the one to yawn this time.

  The agent realized he was getting nowhere and tried a different path. “Does Noelle know you’re black ops, Blue? Wait. Black ops. Blue. Black and Blue. And you’re Black, too,” he said to Evie. “How cute. Anyhoodles.
I’m having dinner with Noelle and her man tonight. I’ll make sure to let them know you said hi.”

  Blue had kept tabs on Noelle over the years and knew she’d joined AIR. Knew she’d gotten married. Knew she was pregnant with her first rug rat. He was happy for her, and hoped she wouldn’t want to kill him when she learned the truth about him.

  He wasn’t going to try to stop Dallas from sharing the intel with her. At long last, he wanted her to know. She deserved the truth.

  “All right, enough of this. I can make him talk without killing him, or even hurting him,” Evie said, rooting inside her purse. “I hate to do it, because the side effects are so severe, but desperate times and all that. Aha!” Smiling, she withdrew a compact of loose white powder.

  “Gonna make me up?” Dallas asked. “Make me prettier? No, please, no. Not that. Anything but that.”

  “At least use the flare gun on him,” Blue said.

  “You’ll like this better, I promise. It’s a truth serum I . . . played with.”

  Dallas frowned.

  “Did we forget to tell you I’m good with poisons and potions?” she asked silkily.

  The agent grew a bit uneasy, shifting in his chair. “Truth serum doesn’t work on me. Solo tried it before you got here, and failed.”

  “Well, Solo didn’t use this, now, did he?”

  Dallas gulped. “What kind of severe side effects are we talking about?”

  “Oh, you know. The uze. Growing man boobs. Total hair loss. Penile shrinkage.”

  Blue thought she was kidding and smothered a laugh.

  “What!” Dallas bellowed.

  Evie bent down, puckered her lips, and puffed the white powder in his face.

  The agent coughed and hacked until his eyes glazed over and he relaxed in his seat.

  “So, Agent Gutierrez,” Evie said with a bright smile, “why don’t you tell us what you know about Solo and Gregory Star?”

  Fourteen

  D ALLAS TOLD THEM EVERYTHING.

  “Solo was caged at the circus with my friend Kitten—she’s AIR, you know, and all messed up now. I think she’s hot. That’s prolly why I’ve had so many fantasies about her. Real dirty ones, too, but my favorite is the one of us in the shower, because she drops—”

  “What happened to Solo after the circus?” Blue snapped. “Who sold him?”

  The agent nodded, all eager to please now. “Gregory Star sold him. Then, after we torched the circus, Solo disappeared with Vika, the circus owner’s daughter. A real pretty little blonde I’ve had fantasies about. See, I’d like to bend her over a—”

  “Do you know where Solo is now?” Evie asked, her tone dry.

  “Nope. Didn’t see him again until he showed up at my house. He threw his fists of fury around, and when I failed to answer any of his questions, he stomped off and said he’d let the owner of the building have me. That’s Gregory Star, in case you didn’t know. I’ve been following some of his men. Wanted to follow Mr. Star, but he’s been holed up in the country, not even leaving for work. His employees have been coming to him.”

  “Why have you been following Star’s men?” Blue demanded.

  “Star’s the one who sold Kitten and Solo to the circus. And I think he’s the one that bombed Mr. Black’s house, because, see, that woman, the one that used to work for him, came to me right before she died and said he’d done it and that he was now after her.”

  That woman. The assistant.

  How could she have known about Star unless she’d helped set the bomb, as Blue suspected?

  When the deed was done, she either experienced remorse, with a need to make things right, or fear, with a need to save her own neck.

  Okay. Moving on. “How are you able to use voice compulsion?”

  “Oh, that,” Dallas said. “The king of the Arcadians fed me blood to save my life, and now we’re, like, totally bonded. I was happy he did it . . . until I was mad. See, he’s married to the current head of AIR, Mia Snow, and she used to be my partner. She wanted me to live and not die, and she didn’t understand that I’d essentially become the guy’s slave and that he’d know every time I had a fantasy about her.”

  Evie rolled her eyes. “Is there anyone you haven’t fantasized about?”

  “Prolly not. I dated Pagan long before Blue—did you know that?—and I’d be into a three-way . . . four-way . . . if anyone in this room was agreeable. And maybe we could have meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and black-eyed peas after. I’m kinda hungry. And dirty. I could use a shower. And maybe a new pair of briefs. Wait. I’m not actually wearing any underwear right now.”

  Blue cut the agent loose. “Discretion is your friend, Agent Gutierrez. I don’t mind you telling Noelle about me, but I would prefer you not tell others. I’ll just have to kill them. I also would prefer it if you stayed away from Gregory Star. I think he’s the one holding John, and I will massacre anyone who gets in my way.”

  “If I had a dollar for every death threat I received, I’d be richer than Miss Hot Pants Black,” Dallas said, rubbing his wrists.

  What had Evie put in that truth serum? “You’re on your own getting home. But I suggest you be quick about it, because Star’s men plan to raid the building tonight.”

  Dallas remained in the chair and tried to catch a dust mote.

  Whatever. Blue wrapped an arm around Evie’s shoulders and led her out of the room. “Up next. The meet-and-greet with Tiffany.”

  She stiffened.

  Why such a telltale reaction?

  Thought he’d sleep with the girl?

  He gritted his teeth. Can’t be mad this time. I mean, why wouldn’t she think that? You haven’t told her you’ll be faithful.

  But why would he tell her something like that? They weren’t even in a relationship! And he’d decided not to start one.

  “About that,” she said. “Tiff’s a rich girl and grew up around powerful men. If you go about a meeting the usual way, you’re just gonna be more of the same, and easily forgettable.”

  He stopped at the door to swipe up the mask. “Are you saying I’m going to strike out?”

  “Was I not clear? I thought I was clear. Yes. You’re going to strike out. That’s why I need to go in first and prep her.”

  Prep her? “You’ve got to be kidding me, princess.” He tried to fit the mask over her face, but she shook her head.

  “You wear it this time.”

  A sharp pang scraped at his chest. She was . . . looking out for him. Putting his safety above her own. “No.” He anchored the material in place and again tucked away her hair. “Returning to Project Tiffany Bang Bang. Madam Prude is actually going to help Himbo score?”

  Eyes narrowing, she patted his cheek. “First, you’re not going to score. The job doesn’t call for that.”

  It didn’t now, he thought darkly. But later . . .

  No. He wouldn’t think about that.

  “Second, your gratitude is humbling.”

  “Well, I’m a spectacularly humble guy.”

  Just before they exited the building he thought he heard Dallas call, “Is it too late to get an autograph?”

  * * *

  Evie strode along the busy outdoor shopping strip, hands in her pockets, a bounce in her step. The sun glared hotly, making her sweat, but she didn’t care. At a glance, she doubted her own mother would recognize her. Her dark hair was hidden underneath a short red wig, the strands kinky and straining under a ball cap. Dark aviator glasses wrapped around her eyes. Her stained and threadbare clothing had been purchased at a thrift store.

  Finding Tiffany Star had been easier than expected, considering the lengths her father had taken to shield himself. But then, Tiffany was an up-and-coming designer, with a website to display her current clothing line. A little hack job, and boom. Evie had access to Tiffany’s in-box, and discovered the girl had a meeting with the owner of one of these shops.

  Only five minutes ago, Evie watched Tiffany struggle to find a parking space in the lot. A wave of
excitement hit her. Excitement she quickly tamped down. Then, when the girl walked past her at the coffee shop, never glancing in her direction, Evie turned and followed.

  Now they snaked a corner. Evie had only to wait for—

  That. Blue.

  At the end of the newest walkway, a crowd of people surrounded him, each vying for his attention. Tiffany picked up speed, drawing closer to him. . . .

  Evie burst into motion, shoving people out of the way. When she reached Tiffany’s side, she grabbed the girl’s briefcase and, as the girl shouted, “Wait! Stop! That’s mine!” she sprinted into one of the shops.

  As she ran, she shed the top layer of her disguise—the ball cap, the red wig—and flipped the flannel shirt with half sleeves around, revealing a black business jacket. By the time she stepped through the back door, she looked like a new person entirely.

  She walked at a leisurely pace and entered the empty shop at the corner, having already busted the lock. The windows were smoked, not allowing anyone to see inside as she emptied the contents of the briefcase on the floor, searching for anything that might point to John.

  Sketches, sketches, and more sketches, but nothing important. Figured. As Evie put the case back together, Blue came through the door. As usual, goose bumps broke out over her skin and her lower belly quivered.

  Was she ever going to get used to his power . . . or his appeal?

  “Anything?” he asked.

  “No.” She tossed the case at him with more force than necessary. Though her aim was off, he leaned to the side and caught it without a hitch. “Now go be a hero and tell her how badly you roughed me up, just to save the day. She’ll be all over you.”

  He paused, tensed. “I’m not going to let things go that far.” He stood there for several more beats, just staring over at her as if there were something else he wanted to say. Then he was gone, and she had the strangest desire to call him back.

  Or, worse, to say thank you.

  * * *

  Blue gave Tiffany his most charming smile, and she blushed. He almost sighed. He’d never met such a timid little bird, so he wasn’t sure how to deal with her.