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?