Then he met Pagan Cary. Blonder and more stacked than any of the others. The two had been together for several months and were now engaged. To be honest, their relationship baffled Evie. Blue had been caught cheating on Pagan at least a dozen times. News stations loved to blast elicit pictures of his trysts.
Man-whore!
And yet, Pagan stayed with him. The girl never seemed to care what he did. Actually, the girl had been linked to several other men.
Evie would have castrated him. To start.
Although . . . she got why women fell under his spell. She really did. That knickers-melting smile . . . when he flashed it your way, you felt as if you were the only female alive. The lover of his most erotic dreams. The other side of his heart.
Im pathetic.
But, unlike other females, she knew he was a savage, unbound by any kind of moral code. He was hardened, detached, and lived by his own set of rulesbut even those he sometimes ignored. And he was calculated. No one would ever be able to shake him from his endgame, whatever that endgame happened to be.
No, thanks.
So why am I shivering?
Because its cold. Yeah. Thats why.
Hello. Im still here, you know. Ive been telling you all about the guys Ive got lined up for you. When the time comes, of course.
Edens voice pulled Evie from her thoughts, and she blinked into focus. She leaned against the bar in the kitchen, her glass of wine raised midway to her mouth. Sorry, she muttered. I wasnt listening.
Clearly. Youre flushed, and I know my descriptions werent that entertaining, her sister said, her tone suddenly sly. Just what . . . or who . . . were you thinking about, hmm?
Evie plucked a grape from the temperature-controlled bowl in the center of the counter and threw it at her sister. The little green fruit sailed through Edens now laughing image.
That salacious, huh?
Good-bye, Eden, she said drily.
Bye, Eves.
They smiled at each other a split second before the hologram disappeared.
With a sigh, Evie pressed the Power button on the TV remote, and the screen in the kitchen lit up.
A young, pretty reporter stood in front of utter chaos. Smoke billowed through the air, creating an eerie backdrop for absolute carnage. Homeowners lingered on their front lawns, watching as firemen and policemen dug through piles of charred debris.
unknown male was rushed to the nearest hospital, the reporter was saying. Were told hes in critical condition, and yet, somehow he disappeared five minutes after his arrival. No one seems to know what happened to him.
An address flashed across the screen, and Evie gasped. Michaels house.
Trembling, she set her wineglass aside and reached for her cell. Michael Black. Father. The line rang, a screech in her ears.
She went straight to voice mail.
She never went straight to voice mail.
Unknown male . . . hospital . . . disappeared . . . Had to be her father. If hed been injured and carted away by civilians, his people would have swooped in, stolen him, and taken him to their medical facility. Thats the way black ops worked.
Okay. Okay. So. If the reporter was to be believed, Michael was critical but alive. If Evie hurried, she could reach the facility in half an hour. She could help him.
As quickly as possible she gathered her things and jumped in her car. The sun was hidden behind clouds as she soared down the highway at a speed cars were not supposed to be able to go. But then, most people could not rebuild the sensory system as she could, nor did they know they could disable preset maximum speeds.
You can take the girl out of the agency, I guess, but not the agency out of the girl.
Thankfully, black-market shields kept her from being noticed by any nearby cops.
The farther away from her home she got, the fewer buildings and shops appeared, until they stopped appearing altogether. Finally, her destination loomed ahead. A metal blockade surrounded a sprawling structure with dark concrete walls and shield armor rather than windows. Bright halogens glared down from the steepled roof, chasing away every shadow.
She stopped at the front gate. An armed guardhumanstepped forward to bang on her window. She lowered the partition and flashed the ID shed never shredded.
He shook his head. Im sorry, Miss Black, but no one gets in tonight.
Im just here to see my father and
Im sorry, Miss Black, but youll have to turn around now.
Gah! She tried again. Bloody hell, my father
Im sorry, Miss Black, but no information is to be given out. Not to you. Not to anyone.
Cant kill him. Was Michael inside?
Surely. Why else would the guard act like this if not to protect her father from further harm? Can you just tell me
No, he said, one hand motioning for her to back up, the other curling around the handle of his pyre-gun. Now, I suggest you leave before Im forced to make you.
Id like to see you try, she retorted. With the press of a button, she could pepper him with bullets. But lets save our tussle for another time, shall we? She threw the car in reverse, spraying gravel in his face.
At home, she would gather the supplies shed locked in her basement three years ago. Then she would break into the facility and unleash all kinds of hell. No one kept her from the people she loved.
No one.
Two
EARLIER THAT DAY TIME: CLASSIFIED
AFTER AN HOURLONG MEETING with Michael, Solo, and John, Blue received a new assignment: Operation Dumpster Dive. A new target: Gregory Star. And a new female to seduce for information: Tiffany Star.
Blues fiancée, Pagan Cary, had no idea he lived a double life, but she would find out what went down with Tiffany. The entire world would find out. Blue no longer tried to hide his affairs.
Did you seriously just put that word in mental air quotes? You do actually have affairs.
Yeah, but the one-night stands still arent for my pleasure. Theyre for my job. Therefore, they dont count.
Tell that to the Black Plague. His nickname for Evie. Actually, he had a lot of nicknames for Miss Evie. Honey Badger was his second favorite.
Dont think about her or your anger will cause a power surge.
At the very beginning of his relationship with Pagan, hed told her there would always be other women. She hadnt cared then and she wouldnt care now. She stayed with him for his body, his money, and his fame, and not necessarily in that order.
He was fine with that, because he stayed with her for the convenience. A wife would stop targets and assets from planning a future with him.
Hard-core? Maybe. But, in the end, far more merciful.
I have a bad feeling about this mission, Solo muttered.
Thats because its going to suck, John replied, just as quietly.
What are you guys complaining about? Im the one who has to do the actual sucking, Blue said as he led the pair to the front door of Michaels office. He twisted the knob, prepared to exit.
Boom!
A violent blast of wind lifted him off his feet and threw him backward. He wrecked through a wall. A terrible high-pitched ring vibrated in his ears, his world shrank to only a tiny bubble, and everything hazed with black and white. He managed to draw a breath into his partially deflated lungs, and instantly regretted it. The air burned and blistered, igniting a bonfire.
Lava flowed over him . . . pressure squeezed at his limbs, his chest . . . something hard fell on his arm and leg, snapping the bones, and everything proved to be too much, pain rolling over him, consuming him, melting him, then pulling him apart piece by piece.
He drifted in and out of consciousness, his muscles too heavy and knotted to even twitch. The ringing in his ears eventually faded, allowing him to hear the crackle of flames mixed with little bits of conversation.
with this one?
fetch a decent price.
this one?
ashing him.
last one?
keeping him.
Blue blinked open his eyes, a nearly impossible feat. His lids were like two pieces of sandpaper that had been glued together. A human male loomed over him, one hed never before met.
Medical personnel?
A thick cloud of smoke surrounded the man, shielding his features.
What the hell had happened?
Blue opened his mouth to ask, but rather than words, something warm and wet gurgled out and trickled down his cheek.
Stupid alien, the man muttered, splashing cold water over Blues body. No, not water. The pungent aroma of accelerant stung his nostrils. I have double or nothing riding on your next season. Without you, the Invaders are going to blow it, and Im gonna lose a fortune.
A match was lit, the flames immediately capturing his attention. Yellow-gold, flickering, growing taller and taller . . . quite lovely . . . falling . . . landing . . . on Blue.
What was left of his shirt acted as kindling, feeding the flames a delectable treat, and Blues already decimated skin bubbled up and liquefied, drip-dripping . . . over his sides, leaving only muscles . . . but even those began to fry.
An agonized roar burst from his throat as he forced his petrified, aching limbs into action, and sat up. A chunk of plaster skidded away from himhad it pinned him? Whatever. He batted at the flames until they died, only to stop and gaze with horror at the condition of his body. His left arm ended in a stump, his hand missing. The rest of him was a mass of blood and meat. He could see several bones peeking past charred muscle.
The man stumbled backward, gasping, Youre alive.
A surge of fury activated Blues Arcadian power, and he was able to lumber to his feet. Dizzy . . . swaying . . . so much pain . . . And yet, fueled by ragged animal instincts he usually kept on a tight leash, he managed to stomp forward and grab the man by the neck, using his remaining hand, squeezing and lifting.
Who. You? Blues thoughts were coming swiftly, too swiftly, then breaking apart before he could sort through them and speak coherently. Why. Kill. Me?
Choking sounds. No words.
His fury magnified, and Blue squeezed harder.
Skin shaded to the color of sapphires . . . violets . . . eyes bugging out . . . lips opening and closing . . . then the mans spine snapped, and his head lolled to the side.
Silence.
Mistake.
Irritated, Blue tossed the limp body to the ground.
He scanned his surroundings, surprised by what he found. Fires here and there, walls toppled and torched, furniture in shambles, debris everywhere, but no sign of John. No sign of Solo. Please. No sign of Michael, either.
Taken away? They wouldnt have willingly left without him.
Cant stay.
Had to heal. Find them. But where could he go?
If one of Michaels houses was destroyed, it was safe to assume all the others were compromised. For the moment, Blue had to operate as if the person responsible knew the names and occupations of the three agents hed just tried to kill, because only someone who had been welcomed into Michaels house could have gotten a bomb inside.
Blue had to avoid his own homes, then. Maybe even Pagans.
Pagan. Was she a target, too?
Hed have to track her down and find out.
He climbed out from the rubble and smoke. Ignoring the agony of his body, he entered the daylight. Sirens blared in the distance, blending with the panicked murmurs of onlookers. The two houses next door had suffered extensive damage.
A frightened scream erupted behind him.
Blue spun, the action nearly knocking him off his feet. His dazed stare landed on a human female. He recognized her. She lived across the street from Michael. Was forty-eight years old. Had two children. Always hosted a holiday party at Thanksgiving.
The information hit him like bullets, one fact after the other. All useless.
She clutched her stomach, gasping, Monster.
Monster? Him? Probably.
Cant stay, he reminded himself.
Authorities would arrive any minute and try to question him. They would demand to know who he was, why he was here, what hed been doing, and in this compromised state he might admit to something he shouldnt.
Blue tripped forward, heading down the street, staying as close to the shadows as possible. Anyone who spotted him gasped with horror and jumped out of the way. No one asked if he needed help. Good. He didnt.
Tucking his ruined arm against his chest, he kicked into super-speed, running as fast as his broken body would allow. It was difficult to do, every step jostling him, agonizing him, but hed trained for every eventuality over the years, even something like this. No one would be able to get a lock on him.
He passed a busy shopping centerbut not before he caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the store windows. His hair was gone. Even his eyebrows were gone, and one of his eyes drooped onto his cheek. He had a patch of flesh on his left side, but that was it. Everything else was raw and red.
Hideous.
Whatever. Hed had worse injuries. He would heal. Would even grow a new hand.
There was Pagans house. A three-story restored brownstone hed bought for her. How much longer could he stay on his feet? What little strength he possessed waned with . . . every . . . second. . . .
* * *
The laughter woke him.
Blue jolted upright, hissing as a stark, burning anguish claimed him. A black crust had formed over his exposed muscles, cracking with his movement. Each of his bones felt brittle, ready to shatter at any moment.
He looked around, taking stock. Dark red walls, a black sink and toilet. Hed made it inside Pagans home, he realized, but he must have passed out in the guest bathroom, thinking to clean up before confronting her. How much time had passed?
In three months, Im going to be Mrs. Corbin Blue, Pagan crowed. Can you believe it?
Hes so beautiful. All that silky white hair . . . those lavender eyes . . . and oh, those lips! So lush and red. Id say they were better suited for a woman, but they look too good on him.
Her sisters voice.
I know, Pagan said with a giggle. Hes absolutely perfect.
But arent you worried about his . . . the sister continued somberly.
His what? Pagan prompted.
Well, his infidelities.
His fiancée scoffed, and his admiration for her tripled. He and I have an open relationship. He tells me when hes going to be with someone else, and I extend him the same courtesy.
What! Youve been with other men? the sister gasped out.
He thinks so, yes.
But you actually havent? the girl insisted.
No.
But . . . why would you want him to think so? Isnt he jealous?
First, men want what other men want. Second, no, he isnt.
Was that bitterness in her tone?
But what if he falls in love with one of his affairs? the sister asked.
Blue? Fall in love? Pagan snorted. No matter how much he smiles and teases, that man is emotionally shut off. But, okay, lets say he does the impossible and falls in love. So what? Ill be his wife and the mother of his children. Hell never leave me.
A crack in the door allowed him to peer into the living room where the girls sat, sipping wine. Pagan wore a skintight dress that stopped just below the line of her panties. If she was even wearing panties. Most nights she wasnt. Her voluminous breasts practically spilled from her halter top, just the way she knew he liked. Her skin was a perfect golden brown, bronzed by a reverent sun. Sexy. A chic crop of platinum hair framed a face most men would only ever see in their wet dreams.
She wasnt under attack, as hed feared. He should leave. If he revealed himself, she wouldnt recognize him. Who would? He might be able to convince her of his identity, but she would insist on taking him to the hospital. He couldnt risk it.
Right now, the person responsible for his condition might assume he was dead. It would be better for Blueand Paganif that person continued to assume so.
Should have thought this through first.
Now, at least, he knew Pagan hadnt been targeted.
Where could he go?
Who could he trust?
Who had tried to kill him? And why?
And where were his friends? Had they survived?
They must have. He wouldnt believe anything else.
Darkness . . . weaving through his vision . . .
He had to get somewhere, and fast, before he once again lost consciousness. There was a good chance he wouldnt be waking up anytime soon.
No one playing for the Invaders knew of his other job. Only Michael, John, and Solo didno, that wasnt true. Evie knew.
Would she help?
Would he harm her when she irritated him? Because she would definitely irritate him. If he lost control of his abilities . . .
No other choice.
Blue labored to his feet, moaning as the agony became too much.
He heard a startled gasp. Whos in there? Pagan called, sounding worried.
Without a word, he climbed through the window into the daylight.
Three
EVIE STOMPED INTO HER bedroom and threw her purse in the general direction of her closet. Key to the basement, thats what she needed. But where had she put the bloody thing?
Light on, she said, the darkness instantly chased away by the overhead lamp. She
Screamed, and reached for the blade she always tucked inside her pocket.
A hideous creature sprawled on her lovely king-size bed. Whatever it was, it was male, and big. Really big, both wide and long, its feet hanging past the edge of the mattress. Its skin was red and blackno . . . that wasnt skin. That was blood and charred flesh. Its body was sliced to ribbons, and it was missing a hand. Several bones stuck out in the wrong places.
The scent of smoke wafted through the air, stinging her nostrils.
Evie, the creature said on a moan. Blue.
Shock slammed through her. He spoke with Blues voice, and even mentioned his name. And . . . and . . . he was peering at her with Blues eyes. That gorgeous lavender, usually framed by long black lashes that made him look as though he always wore eyeliner.
Blue? she gasped out. No way. Just no way.
Didnt know . . . where else . . . to go.
Hesitant, she approached the side of the bed. He watched her every movement, reminding her of a predator getting ready to attack. What would he do when she was within reach? Because it was him, she decided. Same height, same body mass. Same crackle of power so unique to the football playboy. A crackle that had rendered her blind to anything but lust for a few seconds of their first meeting.
I must say, Mr. Blue, youve looked better.
He might have snorted. Hard to tell while he was gurgling blood.
How did you get in here? An alarm should be screeching right now.
Window. Disabled . . . security. Inside and out. Sorry.
She craned her neck, zeroing in on the interior ID box. Sure enough, the lid had been pulled from the wall and the wires exposed, obviously cut and realigned. Thats going to cost a fortune to fix. But only because she would be doing the labor, and her time was mega money, and oh, wow, she really needed a moment to process what was going on.
Bill . . . me, he gritted. First . . . help me.
Sure, sure, she said. Ill ring the Arcadian chief of medicine at St. Anthony. Nice guy. Usually a three-month waiting time to see him, but for me hell make a house call. You will, of course, be responsible for your bill, as well as owe me a huge favor. Stop babbling.
No. You.
She got what he was trying to tell her, but wished she hadnt. For a year straight, this man had screwed with her anytime they were forced to work together. Nothing overt, and nothing that would compromise the end result of the workhis work, that is. Hed left her behind. Told her wrong places to meet, stuck her with all kinds of paperwork. Worst of all, hed always written a review of her performance.
The gist of every review? Miss Black stinks like arse.
Shed seen him a few times since Claire was killed, when shed acted as an asset. Hed always ignored her, as if she were unworthy of his attention, and made a big deal of making out with his date. Whoever that happened to be.
The suckwad treatment cut to the quick, even though she hated the guy. Like she really needed another male to drive home the point that she wasnt good enoughfor anything! And for a conceited man-whore to do it? A male willing to hump anything that moved? Bloody humiliating.
Ignoring? he said now. Typical.
I should make him beg. Fine, she huffed. Ill help you. For Michael. And information. Just be warned. Arcadians are not one of my thousands of specialties, and I will be keeping track of your behavior. Expect me to write a report. Babbling again.
She dragged her gaze over him, medical eye assessing the massive amount of damage, her mind at last computing just how weak he must be. His nostrils were black. He could have inhaled a lethal amount of smoke. She might have to place a tube in his trachea. It would deliver a higher concentration of oxygen to his lungs. Also, resuscitating fluid would definitely have to be dispensed. He might even need a transfusion. Clearly more than ten percent of his cells had suffered hemolysis, and that could lead to kidney malfunction.
If he were human. But he wasnt. Blimey. She truly had no experience with his race.
Im assuming you werent playing Throw Another Arcadian on the Barbie but were in the explosion that decimated Michaels house, she said, walking to her dresser and withdrawing her box of home brew, as she called it. Drugs shed . . . tampered with.
Yes. Woke up. Michael . . . gone. Everyone gone.
Great. He knew as much as she did. So much for trading her services for info. Youd fare better in a hospital, you know. Once more at his side, she stuck him in the arm. That should take the edge off your pain.
No hospital. Please . . . no. Too . . . dangerous. Star . . . bomb . . . could still . . . He went quiet, his head lolling to the side.
Unconscious? Or dead?
Had the anesthetic harmed him?
She felt for a pulse, frowned. He had no There! It was too slow, too light, but there. Relief flooded her.
Evie rushed into the bathroom and drew a bath. She gathered everything she would needor, rather, everything she had that would work. Scissors, IV tubes, and fluid bags shed once used to practice, as well as a medicinal liquid soap usually only loaded into an enzyme shower, and a bottle of antibiotics she kept on hand. She would treat Blue as she would treat a human, and hope it worked.
She stuffed one of the pills under his tongue, praying it would dissolve and help prevent sepsis. Then she cut away what remained of his clothing, and removed his shoes.
When he was stripped towell, cant say the skinraw meat, she loudly stated, Blue, I need you to wake up now.
His eyelids blinked open, and he moaned.
Dont be a crybaby, she said, being merciless to be kind . . . maybe. I have to get you into the tub, and while I may be strong, Im not a crane and cant carry you. She slid her arm underneath his shoulders, intending to help him rise, but he flinched away from the agony of the contact.
Dont touch! he roared.
Dont shout! Despite her calm appearance, she was kind of a mess inside and he was only making it worse. Be a dear and stand up on your own. I need you to walk into the bathroom.
Blue lumbered to his feet and stumbled toward the tub. She couldnt fathom the enormous amount of strength required for him to remain in an upright position while his leg was broken, and tried not to be impressed.
Good boy. Now climb in the tub, she said.
Wheezing, grimacing, he slowly sank below the waterline.
Guaranteed this isnt going to be the sponge bath of your fantasies, she said, crouching beside the stone tub to wash him with the soap and minimize the possibility of infection, but I have to do it.
Whatever . . . necessary, he hissed.
Her grin was devoid of humor. Give me a few minutes. Youll probably regret saying that.
* * *
Time ceased to exist for Blue. He lived only in moments.
There were moments he was utterly alone, lost to pain and darkness. There were moments he was trapped in a nightmare, when the meeting with Michael finished and he stood with John and Solo and they walked to the door, unaware their lives were about to be forever altered. There were moments a woman stroked him, and muttered to him, her honey-almond scent saturating him and her raspy voice delighting him.
He loved those moments.
Its been a week, she said now, and youve already grown a new layer of skinunscarred, of course, because youre the gold standard every man is measured against, and flaws arent allowed to stay. Gag. You grew a new hand, and a new head of hair. Soft fingers shifted through the strands. Its sickening.
He wanted to lean into her touch, her warmth, but his body refused to obey the mental command.
He hated his body.
You need a scar. Youre too pretty. Why wont you wake up?
I will. For you. And then Ill strip you and take you, and youll scream my name, again and again, and I wont stop until Im sated, and youre too exhausted to beg me for more.
And how are you causing my furniture to levitate? Stop that!
His power must be seeping out. He would have to do a better job of controlling it.
Who was she?
Hed gone to Pagans . . . and his fiancée had been with her sister. Yes. He remembered that much. The two talked about him, and Pagan mentioned becoming a mother. Hed thought shed understood kids would never be part of their arrangement.
Humans and otherworlders could procreate, but it wasnt easy. Still, Blue had taken measures to ensure it never happened. Plus he always wore a condom. He didnt need protection from disease, since humans couldnt pass anything to him; but in his early days, too many girls had come forward citing a rubber broke and pregnancy was the result. A lie on both counts, but the claims had scared him. No way did he want to raise a kid with a one-night stand. Or worse, a target. A simple little surgery negated the possibility of children.
Need to have a talk with Pagan. He would make her understand kids were out of the question, or they would part ways.
But the woman with him wasnt Pagan, he thought. Her scent was richer, and her voice sexier. She was thinner, yet somehow softer. Her tone wasnt as gentle, and he was glad. He wasnt easily breakable.
Yesterday I hacked into Michaels database and read your updated file, you know. And by read I mean skimmed. I wasnt that interested. Still, youve done some pretty impressive wet work.
Hells yeah, he had. Hed taken down his first target at the age of thirteen.
A male never forgot his first.
Blue had actually butchered the job, an up-close-and-personal grab-and-stab, getting himself grabbed and stabbed in the process. Somehow, even with his injuries, hed found the strength to pull through and finish. It hadnt been pretty, but the victory had tasted, oh, so sweet.
Hed learned a lot since then. Now his victims never saw him coming.
And maybe hed been born for this type of work, because he wasnt like Solo and John. Hed never felt a moments regret for doing what he considered a public service. The equivalent of a human taking out the trash.