Black and Blue oa-2 Page 23

  A flare of irritation in Star’s eyes. One that held an edge of cruelty. Here was the boy from the streets. The boy suspected of selling organs on the black market. The boy with the skills to peel flesh from bones.

  “You are angry with me, Mr. Blue, when there is no reason to be.”

  “No reason to be? Are you kidding me? You bombed my boss and closest friends. And oh, yeah. Me.”

  “You and your friends were simply collateral damage. Michael Black’s former assistant, Monica Gains, came to me. She said Mr. Black was a government agent and he was looking into seventeen disappearances now linked to my name. I was surprised, I admit. I considered Mr. Black an excellent business rival, but nothing more. She said we could help each other.”

  Michael had been right.

  “I rarely ask my associates for motive, but in her case, since I would be attacking the New World Order, I made an exception. Seems she had gotten herself into terrible debt, but your precious Michael wouldn’t help her. Instead, he made things worse by taking away her only source of income. And after all her years of dedicated service. Shameful.”

  In his business, trust was everything, and Monica broke it. “So, when detonation day came, my friends and I were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But you decided to take advantage of the situation anyway. You sold one and took the Rakan.”

  Star merely blinked, curious. “What makes you think your friend survived the blast?”

  So much for not pretending. “I’ve seen the sketches. I know what you’re using him for, and I will not rest until he’s home safe.”

  Star peered at him for a long while, silent, unaffected. “If I was worried about your involvement, Mr. Blue, you would be dead right now. But nothing I’ve told you can be proven, nor was it something you hadn’t already figured out on your own. I’ve taken every possible measure to protect my investment, as well as myself.”

  “You’re not infallible.”

  “Agree to disagree. Because, you see, Mr. Blue, if I die, your friend dies. I’m the only one who knows where he is. Without me, he will starve.”

  Blue bit the side of his tongue until he tasted blood.

  “Try to take my children to offer in trade, and you’ll find your friend’s parts sold at auction. An arm here, a leg there.”

  “You would be condemning your children to death.”

  “And I would grieve, despise you, and do everything within my ability to secure my revenge, but I wouldn’t be behind bars, and that’s what would matter most.”

  How was Blue supposed to deal with a man this coldhearted?

  “Speaking of my children, Tyson called me just before you arrived. He lives at the Star Light Hotel and he took Miss Black to his suite. He caught her snooping, making him wonder at her involvement in all of this. He’s determined to punish her”—Star lifted a pyre-gun—“and you’re going to be blamed.”

  Twenty-two

  E VIE MADE SEVERAL BLUNDERS. She had used the aphrodisiac on Tyson, and he had responded—just not the way she hoped. Lust had mutated into aggression, and he’d threatened to obliterate Blue, his need to protect his sister from the playboy far surpassing his need for sexual release.

  Where she’d once thought the guy might have beaten Tiffany, she now knew otherwise. He worshipped the girl.

  So, to counteract the aggression, Evie had used a small dose of the sedative.

  She should have used more, but she hadn’t wanted Tyson to (1) pass out on the roof before she could convince him to take her to his room, or (2) fall asleep the moment they reached his room, ruining any kind of interrogation.

  Two guards had taken her purse before allowing her past Tyson’s door, and she had been unable to think of an excuse to grab her “pen.” Then Tyson had fallen asleep when they got inside, and she should have realized it wasn’t a deep sleep, that with as small a dose as he’d had, he would wake up very quickly. Instead, she had used the time to paw through his things. He woke up, realized he had been drugged, and found her in his office. There was no talking her way out of the precarious situation.

  Hands in the air, she walked around the desk.

  He kept a pyre-gun trained on her. “That’s close enough.” He nodded to the pile of paperwork she’d just dropped. “Did you find anything interesting?”

  Actually, yes. Confirmation of a drug habit he hadn’t kicked (paraphernalia) and confirmation that the Golden Sunrise clothing line was set to debut in two weeks (invitations).

  “Finally, nothing to say.” His eyes narrowed on her. “You are a beautiful woman, Miss Black, and the time we spent on the roof made me question my decision to use you to draw out your father. But you have proved you are just like the man, and that means you must be eliminated.”

  She smiled sweetly and inched a little closer to him. “Being compared to Michael Black is a compliment. But you are just like Gregory Star, and that isn’t.”

  His nostrils flared. “It is.”

  Please. It wasn’t, and they both knew it.

  A little closer . . . “What do you have against Michael, anyway?”

  “He was going to try and lock my father away—or have him killed. Star Industries would have suffered. My inheritance would have suffered. My sister and I have endured too much to lose everything now.”

  Just a little closer . . . “Well,” Evie said, unwilling to feel sorry for him for whatever he’d endured at the hands of Gregory Star, “let’s see what I can do.” She kicked out her leg and batted his shooting hand. Instinctively he squeezed the trigger, but with the motion he missed her and the bright laser stream blazed through the wall.

  He was startled, unprepared, and Evie was able to slam her palm into his nose, spin to his side, and elbow him in the back of the head. He fell to his knees, hissing in pain.

  She reached for the gun he still held, intending to wrench it from his grip—only to hear a familiar click. She froze.

  “That’s right, little girl.” The harsh voice came from the doorway. “No sudden movements.”

  She glanced over, saw one of the guards who’d been posted at the front door pointing a gun at her heart, and two other men standing behind him.

  Tyson shoved her away and lurched to his feet. His eyes sizzled with fury, and blood leaked from his nose. “Tie her,” he said nasally.

  The pyre-gun remained trained on her as the other two guards closed the distance. Her arms were bound behind her back with laser cuffs. Prickles of fear ignited in her chest, and her blood flashed cold.

  “Have the guests left?” Tyson asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then let’s take her to the roof.”

  They were going to push her off, weren’t they?

  Evie struggled against her captors as she was escorted out of the suite and toward a private elevator.

  “Go ahead. Scream,” Tyson said. “No one will hear you.”

  The group entered the elevator and the doors closed, sealing them inside. She mentally calculated the odds of a successful escape. If she knocked out the guy on her left with a head butt, and closed the throat of the guy on her right with a swift kick, that would leave the one with the gun and Tyson. She would be shot before she got to either male.

  Thing was, that wasn’t any worse than what awaited her on the roof. So. She did it. Head butt. Guy moaned. Swift kick. Guy went down.

  Except she wasn’t shot. She was pistol-whipped on the side of the head. Sharp pain slashed through her, and stars winked through her line of vision.

  The two guys she’d downed scowled as they stood, and when the doors opened, they roughly hauled her forward. Any hope that a guest had lingered evaporated. The entire area was deserted. Empty glasses littered the tables, and plates of half-eaten food waited on the ground. Floats drifted across the surface of the pool.

  Tyson faced her, murder gleaming in his ice-cold eyes. “Here’s what is going to happen, Miss Black. I have no taste for death, s
o I will be leaving you. These fine gentlemen are going to tie you to a chair and throw you in the pool. You will drown, and I’m sure it will be most painful. Then, when you are dead, they will remove the chair and the cuffs and throw you back in. Tomorrow morning, when the staff comes to clean, you will be found. Corbin Blue will be in the very chair we take from you, his brains splattered all over the stone. A tragic murder-suicide the world will never forget.”

  Don’t panic. “A slight problem with your plan. Over a hundred people saw you leave with me.”

  “And that’s what sent Mr. Blue into a rage. That’s why he punched me, knocked me out, and dragged you away.”

  “But he left with your sister.”

  “Only to make you jealous. But as Tiffany will later recount, he ranted and raved about you, the rage getting stronger and stronger until he abandoned her with every intention of finding you.”

  Keep trying. “Do you really want my murder linked to your name?”

  “No, but it will be a small price to pay to be rid of you.”

  Gah! “You’ll never be able to capture Blue.”

  His smile was all kinds of evil. “It’s already done.” He nodded to the men before turning and striding away.

  As she bucked and kicked, she was dragged to a chair. Though she landed a few decent blows, the men were eventually able to force her to sit. And when the cuffs were hooked to the back of the chair, she had to cease all movement. To continue fighting was to lose both of her hands.

  Do you want your hands or your life?

  In a few minutes she might not be able to have both.

  The chair was lifted and carried to the water. Her fear returned, making her tremble.

  “How much is he paying you,” she rushed out. “Because I’ll triple it.”

  “Sometimes it’s not about the money,” one of them replied. “Sometimes it’s just about the fun.”

  She was dumped into the pool, face-first.

  The chair was metal, and heavy, and she sank fast, the chemically laced water stinging her eyes, filling her ears. The fear magnified, and panic threatened to overtake her. Calm. Stay calm. Think!

  She kicked her legs until she flipped the chair to an upright position. She knew the men were still up there, watching, because she could see their shadows through the surface of the water and the strands of dark hair floating in front of her face.

  Can’t let them stop you. She angled her body forward so that she could stand, then walked toward the steps, the chair like a tortoise shell. If she could just reach the steps, she could climb out of the pool and breathe.

  They’ll just throw you back in.

  Yes, but she would have more time, giving Blue a chance to find her. She knew he would. Knew he hadn’t been captured. He was too strong, too smart. Too determined.

  But all too soon, her lungs began to burn, burn so bad, and that burn spread to the center of her chest, then to her throat and nose. Darkness descended like a curtain over her eyes. Where were the steps? She couldn’t see the freaking steps!

  Desperate, Evie kicked and pulled at her arms. So she’d lose her hands. So what. Breathe, have to breathe. Please. Please. This couldn’t be the end. Her last memory couldn’t be one of defeat, knowing Blue would be blamed for her death, one way or another.

  Suddenly, the water pressing in on Evie lifted and she was sucking in great gulps of air, her lungs practically weeping with gratitude. The chair fell backward, slamming her hands against dry concrete.

  She’d made it to the steps? Climbed without realizing it?

  Gradually the darkness faded and colors began to take shape. She frowned. She hadn’t actually gotten out of the pool, she realized. She was still on the bottom—the water hovered above her. Like a cloud.

  Strange muffled noises snagged her attention. She turned her head and saw Blue standing at the outer edge of the pool, his arms lifted high, as if he were holding the water in place.

  She shook her head to dislodge the moisture trapped in her ears.

  “—now! Evangeline,” he shouted. “Climb out. Climb out now.”

  Yes. She struggled to get to her feet. Her legs shook more violently with every inch she gained, but she did it. She reached the steps. The moment she cleared the ledge, the water splashed back into the pool, a tidal wave, droplets spraying in every direction.

  Blue rushed to her side and disabled the cuffs.

  “Guards?” she panted, pulling her arms to her chest and rubbing her sore, raw wrists.

  “Dead.”

  “Tyson?”

  “Don’t know.” Blue jerked her into his arms, holding her tight. She didn’t have the energy to do anything more than lean against him and accept his offer of comfort. “I haven’t seen him, but the next time I do, I’m going to gut him.”

  The trembling in her legs migrated to her jaw, making her teeth chatter. “Not yet. Star will punish . . . John.” He’d never forgive himself if Star hurt his friend for his actions. “How did . . . you find . . . me?”

  “Isotope.”

  “Figured.”

  “Don’t be mad. It saved your life.”

  “No, you did. Just . . . get me . . . home.”

  “Okay, baby. Okay. I’ll get you home.”

  * * *

  In the car, Blue turned the heat as high as it would go and aimed every vent in Evie’s direction. Then he seethed. Fury was a living entity inside him. Fury directed at the Stars. At himself. Hell, even at Evie.

  She almost died.

  He kept remembering how he disabled Gregory Star with a ring of energy before a shot could be fired, allowing Blue to escape the house. How he used his super-speed to get to the hotel, then through the hotel, screaming Evie’s name. The tracker had assured him she was in the building, but not where. He checked Tyson’s suite, and found evidence of a struggle. He flew up to the roof as a last resort, not really thinking the male would have taken her back to the party, but not knowing where else to look.

  Then he saw the men peering into the pool and laughing. Saw Evie at the bottom, fighting for her life. He used what was left of his power to tear the men into a thousand tiny pieces, at the same time lifting the water out of the pool.

  As drained as he’d been, he almost hadn’t had the inner strength to do it.

  “I never want to find you like that again,” he said.

  Her trembling began to subside. “Trust me. A repeat isn’t on my agenda.”

  He’d come so close to losing her. He just couldn’t get past that fact.

  The feisty, bad-tempered little vixen had become the favorite part of his day. He was happier when she was nearby. He was challenged. Satisfied. Horny as hell, pleasured as hell. He needed more of her. More time. More sex. More arguments. More surprises. More everything. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough.

  And the Stars had tried to take her away.

  They had to die.

  At last they reached one of his more luxurious safe houses and parked in the garage. “How are you?” he asked as he helped her into the living room.

  “Better. Stronger already.”

  “In pain?”

  “No.”

  Good. He stepped in front of her, and leaned down, getting in her face, scowling. “I want you off the case.”

  She pushed wet strands of hair from her cheeks and stared up at him as if he’d just lost his mind. Maybe he had. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “No! I’m deadly serious.”

  “Well, too bad. I’m in this thing to the end.”

  The end? A poor choice of words. “You almost died tonight, Evie.”

  “But I didn’t. Thanks to you and your dastardly ways—which I will forgive you for after you’ve begged for an appropriate amount of time. Or have written me a sonnet. Yes, that’s what I want. A sonnet.”

  “Evangeline.”

  Sighing, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’m still here, and I’m still willing to fight.”

  He shook his head, refusin
g to back down. “You planned to go back to work at the hospital anyway. Why not go now rather than later?”

  Her nails dug into him as she clutched his shirt. “What happened to me being a good agent? And why should you get to put your life at risk?”

  “Because I—” Love you.

  Did he?

  Damn it. He did. He really did. The feeling was too strong to deny.

  Her eyes widened as his implication became clear. “What? Say it.”

  Why not? he thought with a bitter laugh. Why not put everything out there? “Sex has never meant anything to me. It has always been a distraction. A pleasure. A means to an end. Until you. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I want to keep you around. I need to keep you around. I’m falling in love with you, Evie.” Shitty phrasing. He wasn’t falling. He’d already gone splat on the pavement.

  No longer so brave, she backed away from him. “Blue.”

  “I’ve never said those words to another woman. Not even for a case. I can’t lose you. And, Evie, I will be faithful, I swear to you. You will never have to worry about another woman. Not for any reason.”

  “Blue,” she said again.

  Going to turn him down?

  Let’s see if he could change her mind.

  Moving faster than she could track, he picked her up and tossed her on the couch. She bounced up and down, and he fell on top of her, pinning her arms over her head.

  * * *

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Evie demanded. This man had just rocked her entire world. I think I’m falling in love with you. He’d all but gotten down on his knee and offered her a ring, and she had no idea how to feel. Or deal.

  What did she know of romantic love? Nothing!

  Not how to give it, and certainly not how to receive it. Because receiving it would mean getting used to it. Needing it. Relying on it.

  What would happen if it was taken away?

  “I’ve relocated the battle,” Blue said easily.

  The battle over her right to stay on the case? Or . . . her heart? “As if turf really matters. You won’t be winning.”

  “Let’s find out.” He smashed his lips into hers, his tongue thrusting hard, insisting on entrance, slamming past teeth, uncaring when she bit down to prove a point. Panting, he said, “I like it when you fight me.”