Last Kiss Goodnight

I’m about to make from your brain?”

He could do it, too. He possessed extraordinary abilities no human, and very few Arcadians, could even dream about.

“Go for it,” Solo said, unconcerned. “Unlike you, I’ve got a few cells to spare.”

“Children,” Michael said, clapping his hands. “Enough.” If they decided to reenact the gimpy-gazelle-versus- hungry-lion scene from Animals of Old Earth, Michael would be down two agents and probably missing a few limbs after trying to pull them apart.

Hired guns were such babies.

“Just let them play,” John said, his tone now edged with an emotion Michael couldn’t name. Something spiked with poison . . . deadly. “They need to get it out of their systems. They’re due.”

“Uh, that’s not happening.” Blue knew how to play; Solo did not. Blue would unintentionally insult Solo (more than he already had), and Solo would leave—with carnage in his wake. Nothing and no one would be able to bring him back until he was ready. But he would never be ready. “If it does, I’ll have to pull all three of you from this case and assign you to work with my daughter, Evie.”

“Enough!” John shouted, and the other two immediately zipped their lips.

They might be able to dismiss Michael, but they’d dance through fire for John.

“We good now?” Michael asked.

Blue nodded.

Solo ran his tongue over his teeth . . . teeth slightly longer than they’d been a few moments ago.

Michael knew Solo had been insulted by people all of his life. Because of his height and muscle mass, the kids at his elementary school had called him Ogre Boy—until his temper had gotten the better of him and he’d partially morphed into his other form. Then they’d called him Monster Mash and Ugly-O and had even thrown rocks at him.

Once, to protect himself, he’d nearly beaten a kid to death.

His mother had been phoned, and she’d arrived in time to calm him before he’d harmed another child, but the damage had already been done. He was pulled from the school system, and would have been locked away for life if Michael hadn’t intervened.

“We’re good,” John said, his face pale. “Evie is now off the table.”

A well-known secret: John would protect Evie with his life as long as he didn’t have to talk to her. It was Michael’s fault. He had spoiled his youngest daughter, and she now felt as if it was every man’s duty to do the same.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, Michael,” Blue said with a shudder, “but Evie needs to be put down.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” Michael cleared his throat. “Now, as I was saying, the agents were snatched while on the job.”

“Human? Otherworlder?” John asked. His color hadn’t yet returned to normal.

“Both,” he replied. “Male and female, too. The only common thread is the fact that they work for AIR.”

“Are they young? Good-looking?” Blue asked.

“Some of them, yes.”

“Maybe they’re being sold into the slave trade. That’s the best way to hide multiple living bodies, as well as the best way to make fast cash when you’re trying to support a drug habit.” Blue worked two fingers over the smoothness of his jaw. “Have any civilians been taken?”

“Yes,” Michael said, impressed by the jump his quick mind had made. It had taken Michael two days to connect that particular dot. “We don’t think this has anything to do with trafficking, though. We have men on the inside of every major auction and whorehouse, but none have seen any hint of the agents or the civilians.”

“What do you have?” Solo asked. “How do you know the victims were snatched by the same guy?”

Another excellent question. “Mr. Star has a calling card. He uses the victim’s blood to draw the Chinese symbol for revenge somewhere in their home.”

Blue rolled his eyes. “Are you sure the symbol is for revenge? A guy I know got a tattoo of what he thought was the symbol for strength, but it was really the symbol for indigestion.”

“A guy you know? Dude, I’ve seen your back,” John quipped. “The tattoo is yours.”

Unapologetic, Blue said, “I thought the story had more spice the other way.”

Anyway. “Yes, we’re sure,” Michael interjected. “We think he uses it to throw us off and confuse his motives. There’s no reason for him to seek revenge against the seventeen people who were abducted. None of them have any connections to him or each other. Outside those from the agency, of course.”

John pursed his lips. “Let me guess. You want us to find out what Star has done with all seventeen people before we kill him. Well, forget that. If we end him now, no one else will be abducted, and the problem will be solved,” he said, spreading his arms. “You’re welcome.”

“When one of those people is a senator, we don’t take out the only man who might know where she is.” But there was no question Star would die when all was said and done. “So here’s how this will go down. John, you’ll join the New Chicago AIR team as a transfer from Manhattan. They’ve lost two agents to this catastrophe.”

“Got it.”

“And no one can know who you really are or why you’re really there. Not your new boss and not your partner, Dallas Gutierrez.” Michael tossed him a mobile folder with all the information he would need.

John caught the device and immediately dug in. “And why am I really there?”

“To listen to office gossip, and to study the agents. If someone’s got a connection to Mr. Star, I want to know about it and I want you to make friends. Sleep around. Whatever.”

He nodded.

“Blue, the world is about to find out about your new drug habit.”

The pro-baller’s eyes slitted dangerously. Good. He understood. He’d have to pretend with the fiancee, too.

“Now that you’re spinning out of control, you’ll throw a party. You will invite Mr. Star’s kids, and you will make nice. If you can, become the son’s new supplier. And if the daughter’s interested, sleep with her. Just be careful. I’d hate for you to disappear, too.”

Like John, he nodded.

At least he hadn’t protested the affair.

Michael focused on Solo. He was still slumped in his chair, his gaze still narrowed. “You will become Blue’s new, most trusted bodyguard. The man who gets things done. The one Blue relies on for the darkest of deeds.”

A flash of panic before Solo’s features smoothed out, revealing nothing else. “Very well.”

He hated going out in public, and Blue led a very public life. His photo would be taken, would be plastered across every newspaper, and he would have to relive every moment and tolerate every insult. But he would do it. He always did what Michael told him.

“Good,” Michael said. “You each have four days to prepare. On the fifth, I expect you to be entrenched in your roles. Dismissed.”

In unison the boys popped to their feet. As they stomped to the door, Blue grumbled. John rubbed the back of his neck. Solo was quiet, his arms at his sides, his footfalls purposely soft.

The sensors above the door caught their movement and caused the soundproof metal to unlatch and slide open. Blue crossed the threshold first, John right on his heels, and Solo right on his.

Whoosh.

A sudden, violent gust of heat slammed through the entire office, lifting Michael out of his chair and propelling him into the far wall. Fire licked at his skin, and lances of pain battered at him as he slid to the floor. He tried to breathe but couldn’t. Something heavy pressed against his chest, and he blinked rapidly in an effort to focus. A desk was now on top of him, he realized. What the . . . How . . . ?

The answer clicked into place. Someone had bombed his home office.

He laughed at the unlikeliness of such a situation, and blood bubbled from his mouth. As he coughed and fought to suck air past the liquid obstruction, his pain intensified and his eyesight dimmed.

Where were his boys? he wondered dazedly. Were they . . . ?