Black and Blue (9 page)

At home, she strode straight into the kitchen, slammed her purse on the counter, and poured herself a much-needed glass of wine. When would Blue get here?

And he had better get here. If he’d tricked her just to get rid of her . . .

She drained the glass, barely tasting the hints of
plum and fig, and poured another. The air was still charged with electric power, she realized, from when he’d been here before, the fine hairs on the back of her neck rising—liquid heat rushing through her.

When would it freaking end? She was tired, so very tired, of the rush of sensations he caused, whether he was there or not. The tension in her lower belly. The heat in her veins. The ache . . . oh, criminy, the ache.

“Do you always drink like a sidewalk bum when you get home from work?” The deep, gravelly voice caused every nerve in her body to come alive. The reaction was familiar, though the voice was not. Not really.

In a lightning-fast move, she whisked the pyre-gun from her purse, turned, and aimed. A second later the gun was ripped from her grip, only to hover in the air just out of her reach. But it was never aimed at her. Either the guy was a suckwad criminal, or he meant her no harm.

He’d bypassed her security. He wasn’t suckwad.

Mr. B and E stepped from the shadows, and she stiffened.

He was tall—Blue’s height. He was muscled—Blue’s build. He even smelled like Blue, champagne and fresh-plucked strawberries. Odd for a man, but no less addictive. And yet, he had short, spiked black hair, and eyes to match. Thick kohl rimmed his eyelids, altering the shape. A jagged scar ran from his hairline to his chin. Both of his eyebrows were pierced, and so was his lip. Could be him. But could also
not
be him.

“Let me see your hands,” she demanded.

For a moment he gave no reaction. He was too busy
peering at her as if he actually saw her, rather than through her. Blue always peered through her. This man’s stare was intense. Steady. Almost . . . magnetic. She couldn’t even bring herself to blink.

Finally, he lifted his arms, palms out.

She knew those hands. She’d cleaned and bandaged one, then watched the other grow—and she’d enjoyed having both on her body, cupping her breasts.

Had secretly prayed they would move lower.

Leaning against the counter, relaxing, she said, “So. You kept your word, bluebird. I’m impressed.”

He blinked in surprise. “You recognize me. How?” As he spoke, the pyre-gun floated back to her purse.

His affront amused her. “Hello. Trained agent. I notice details the average Joe misses.”

“No, it’s more than that.” He studied his hands in the light. “You didn’t know for sure until you looked at these. But why would—” His gaze jolted up, landing on her, heating with black fire. “Because you liked when they were on you. A woman never forgets pleasure.”

She straightened as though yanked by a cord. “Don’t be ridiculous. I forget all the time.” Gah! “I mean, I’ve never experienced pleasure from you.”

Where’s your brutal honesty now, girl?

Silent amendment:
Except when he was grinding on me.

Trying again. “Maybe you have distinctive sunspots.”

That wasn’t a lie. She’d said “maybe.”

“I don’t.” He watched her for a long while, whatever thoughts danced through his head hidden from her. His expression gave nothing away. No, that wasn’t true. His features had softened, oh so slightly.

If he tried to prove his theory, she might not have the strength to resist.

She gulped.

“What do you think of my scar?” he asked, rubbing the raised tissue.

It gave him a savage edge, as if he couldn’t decide whether to hack you to pieces or give you the hardest sexual ride of your life—and only time would reveal the answer. He was the bad boy every woman yearned to taste, but only the bravest ever dared approach.

Must regroup
.

“Nothing to say? You disappoint me, princess.” He walked toward her, placed his hands—those big, strong hands—on the counter, caging her in,
thrilling
her. “Or, maybe your silence speaks for you.”

Red alert! “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, blue balls?” she demanded, hating how breathless she sounded.

His gaze dipped to her lips—and stayed. “What would you like me to do, princess?”

Kiss me. Hard.

No!

“I’d like you to move. Now,” she said. Unfortunately, her voice was still raspy with longing.

“Someone’s forgotten her own rules, I think. Just like she claims to have forgotten her pleasure.” He nuzzled her nose, the contact innocent and yet somehow all the more erotic for it. “You sure that’s what you want?”

No, she wasn’t sure. He affected her in a way no one else ever had. He made all her naughty bits tingle, and she liked it. Her breasts felt heavier, ready for
his hands . . . his mouth. Her nipples hardened and throbbed. Her legs trembled, and at the apex of her thighs she was warm and wet. Her knees threatened to buckle under her slight weight, a reaction guaranteed to land her in the strength of his arms. And probably on her back, on the receiving end of a good snogging. Or more . . .

Yes, please.

She hadn’t had sex in three years, since she’d spiraled after Claire’s death. And before that, her last sexual encounter had happened at the ripe old age of seventeen. Back then, she’d given herself to too many, desperate for male approval and attention.

The curse of those bloody daddy issues.

But she wasn’t a needy little girl anymore, and she wasn’t going to be some guy’s bang and bail ever again.

“You might be a cheater, Professor Hit It and Quit It, but I am not.” She shoved him, and though he could have resisted and remained in place, he moved backward. A scowl marred the rugged beauty of his new face. A scowl . . . and maybe a little hurt.

I
am
a judgmental bitch.

“Look. I’m sorry I was mean,” she muttered. “Let’s just forget the last five minutes.” She reached into her purse and grabbed the paper she’d stuffed there. “Here. This is your bill for your stay at Chez Black.”

She expected him to comment on her apology. He didn’t. He acted as if he hadn’t heard it, and she wasn’t sure what to think.

As he read over her notes, she moved to his side to make sure she hadn’t left anything out.

Security system, parts and repairs: $8,000.

New window: $2,000.

New sheets: $1,000.

Water: $10,000.

Time and mental anguish: $3,000,000.

No. Nothing left out.

He eyed her with a strange mix of amusement and exasperation. “Do you accept orgasm? Because that’s my preferred method of payment.”

She puckered her lips, knew she looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon and didn’t care. “I’m sure. And no. I do not accept orgasms.”
But I’d like to.
“Lucky you, I can get you started on a stellar payment plan. Meaning you have one month to pay or I’ll break both of your kneecaps. Now, are we going to search the explosion site or what?”

E
VIE APOLOGIZED TO HIM
,
and she liked having his hands on her soft, sweet body. Blue was having trouble getting past those two little facts.

He gave himself a mental slap. First, she apologized for being mean. Not for what she’d said. Because she thought it was true. Thought he liked screwing anything in a skirt. Or breathing.

Can you blame her? You’ve been acting like Dr. Happy with a life-and-death vitamin Dick injection to impart.

True. Deep down, he knew he deserved her rancor. He’d done horrible things to his women. Things he could have said no to.

And so what that she’d enjoyed his hands on her. He wasn’t going to do anything about it.

He lived his life by one simple rule:
Never mess around unless it’s job related.

After his breakup with Noelle, he’d added a second:
Always let the girlfriend know there will be others.

He’d kept those rules. Until Evie.

Not that they’d done anything. But the intent was there, and that was just as bad. He was just as guilty.

Michael would kill him.

If you find him.

He would. Soon.

Blue waited in the living room as Evie changed out of her purple scrubs. Did she have any idea how adorable she looked in them? Probably not. The girl seemed utterly unconcerned about her appearance. But then, she didn’t need to be. She was a natural beauty.

Seriously. How had he ever gotten away with telling himself she wasn’t pretty?

Five minutes later she stood in front of him, this time wearing a shirt that read “Dear Math, I’m Not Your Therapist. Solve Your Own Problems.” A pair of tight, hip-hugging jeans encased her lower half. Old tennis shoes covered her feet. Her hair was now anchored in a high ponytail, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked young and fresh—still so freaking gorgeous his chest hurt.

Jaw clenched, he forced himself to look away from her. “I put my stuff in one of your guest rooms.” The one closest to her room, but whatever. Details weren’t important right now. “Since I’m supposedly dead, I can’t stay at my place. I need to stay here.”

“That’s fine.” No change in her demeanor. “You ready to go?”

He nodded, taken aback by the ease of her acceptance. “We have to use one of your cars.” He had a few vehicles the public hadn’t seen, but for what they were about to do, they needed hers. No one would think it strange for Michael Black’s daughter and her grungy friend to dig through the rubble of his home.

She offered no protest as Blue hustled her into the
garage. “I know you’re a sports car junkie, but I think we should go with the sedan,” she said.

“Sure.” The sedan had two major wins: it would blend in with all the other cars on the highway, and the windows were smoked glass. With Evie, he never knew what he would do or how he would react to something. Privacy was best.

She let him drive, but as he eased into the driveway she barked an insistent “Stop!”

He did, palming a weapon, and she hopped out. A little boy playing in the front yard of her neighbor’s house spotted her and bounded over.

The sun was a bright little bastard, reaching out with fiery fingers to stroke over Evie, giving her pale skin the same pearlescent glow that had struck him dumb at their first meeting.

You’re staring at her. Don’t be that guy. Look away!

“Dr. Evie!”

“Hey, Drew,” she said, giving him a hug. “Did you handle that wee problem we discussed?”

Blue returned his weapon to the sheath at his waist.

“I sure did. I waited for you earlier but Momma told me I had to come in and eat and then I cleaned my plate so fast she said her head was spinning and then I rushed back out ’cause I wanted to tell you I popped Bobby so good. I think I broke his nose. There was blood.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you!”

Condoning schoolyard violence? Interesting. And kind of hot.

You think everything about her is hot.

Not everything. When that viper’s tongue called him a whore, he wanted to cut it out.

Drew’s gaze slid past her open door, catching on Blue, and widened.

Blue tensed. Had he just been made by a prepubescent?

“Are you gonna kill me?” the kid asked.

Kid definitely didn’t know who he was. There would be fawning.

Wait. He looked
that
scary?

Grinning, Evie said, “Nah. You’ve got nothing to worry about, squirt. Mr. Brothario is a lover, not a fighter.”

Blue glared at her.

Drew flipped him off before rushing inside his house, probably to hide.

“Aw, how sweet,” Evie said, settling in her seat. “I think he was trying to warn you against unleashing your dreadful wrath on sweet, innocent me.”

“If the poor kid thinks you’re sweet, I have to fear his home life.”

“Ha-ha. You are hilarious.”

“Thank you.”

Like Drew, she flipped him off.

Grinning, Blue programmed the car to head to Michael’s, sat back, and tried to relax as the sensors did the driving for him. Problem was, Evie’s honey-almond scent saturated this vehicle as well. His shaft—which hadn’t shrunk since the counter incident—throbbed, and the hum of his power cranked up the volume, screaming for release.

Not here, not now.

But if he wasn’t careful he would levitate the vehicle and everything around it.

He needed a distraction. “Encouraging jailhouse justice on the preschool playground, sugar muffin?”

She glared at him, and it lightened his mood. “Encouraging the end of a bully’s reign of terror.”

Ah. “I approve.”

Smirking at him, she said, “You do realize you just set yourself up for a horrible insult, right?”

He leaned against the door and faced her. She didn’t wilt under the intensity of his stare, and didn’t look away. She met him head-on, completely unfazed. He had to admire her fortitude.

Had to? Hell, he already did. He’d never met a woman like her. All bark
and
bite.