favorite ability. Blue could stand in one location, any location, and force the last ten minutes to replay. He could watch everything that had transpired, like a movie unfolding across a television screen, whether he’d first borne witness or not. But the explosion had happened over a week ago, too far in the past for this capability.
There was another talent he could use here, however. One he’d always considered useless. An azure glow began to seep from the pores in his hand, and he ran his palm over bits and pieces of scorched wood, metal, and paper, the char disintegrating to reveal whatever was hidden beneath.
The glow could clean anything—except his dirty thoughts. His desire for Evie hadn’t faded in the silence of the drive. Had only grown.
He was more appalled by the knowledge with every second that passed. He was also extremely ticked.
How had he gone from total dislike of her to this . . . seeming obsession?
“Cool trick,” she said, coming up beside him.
He steeled himself against her honey-almond scent, saying, “Just one of many.”
She placed her hand at her heart. “So humble.”
“I seem to recall your aversion to lies. Or has that changed?”
Ignoring the question, she said, “What, exactly, is it that you think we’re going to find?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Ah. This is a we’ll-know-it-when-we-see-it mission.”
“Yes. Now zip it and help.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
The response was unexpected—where was her anger?—and he barely stifled his laughter. There’d never be a dull moment with this girl, that was for sure.
She worked alongside him for ten . . . twenty minutes without a word, but his awareness of her never dissipated. There was something about the grace of her movements that continually drew his eye.
Why did she have to be Michael’s daughter?
“Just say whatever’s on your mind,” she finally growled, her good humor gone. “I don’t like the way you’re watching me.”
Noticed, had she? “And how am I watching you?”
“As if you’d like to eat me.”
“Butter buns? That’s the worst of the lot!” She threw a piece of wood at his head.
He stopped it midway with only a slight thread of power, letting it hover a moment before he sent it flying to the side. Of course, she used his distraction against him and threw another. This one pelted him in the chest, nearly deflating his lungs.
“Do that again,” he growled. “I dare you.”
“Dare accepted.” She did it again.
Like the first time, he stopped it and sent it flying. “I’m warning you, Evie.”
“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do to me, huh?”
She was panting, he realized, and so was he. They were staring at each other, just as they’d done after the explosion, looking for an outlet for their anger . . . and awareness of each other. Only, this time nothing had happened to provoke such a response. If they kissed, they would only have themselves to blame.
He almost didn’t care. His mouth watered for her. His hands ached for her.
“Never mind.” Her cheeks flushed as she stomped away from him. He thought he heard her mutter the word
How aggravating that Evie Black had become the voice of reason in their relationship.
“Miracle of miracles, you’re right.” He returned his attention to the pile of ash, and his gaze snagged on a small cigarette lighter. The metal had melted, but after a quick cleanup the unique logo became visible. A naked blonde straddled a male that was half white knight, half black unicorn.
The logo represented the Lucky Horn. A strip club he may or may not have visited . . . countless times.
Was it Michael’s lighter? Or could it belong to Fry Guy?
“Ever seen this before?” he asked, holding it up for Evie’s inspection.
She looked it over, shook her head. “No. And to my knowledge, Michael has never visited the Lucky Horn.”
How’d she know the logo?
“Like he’d really tell you if he had,” Blue quipped.
“Like he wouldn’t. He doesn’t think of me as a daughter but as an agent. Well, as a doctor now.”
Threads of deep inner pain stroked over him, cold and stinging. They’d come from her, he realized. When would he stop being astonished by that? “What are you talking about? Of course he thinks of you as a daughter. He’s always spoiled you rotten, letting you get away with crap he would have killed other agents for.” And it had always bothered Blue, though he couldn’t seem to work up any kind of indignation at that particular moment.
Her expression turned pensive as she mulled over his words. A few seconds later she said, “Why did he leave me in Westminster with Mum, then? Why did he visit me so rarely?”
She thought . . . what? That Michael had never really loved her? Ouch.
But she couldn’t be more wrong. Hurt was coloring all of her memories.
He had his own experience with that. He couldn’t remember his biological parents, only his three older brothers and two older sisters. They’d lived on the streets, his brothers stealing every scrap of food and clothing, and his sisters . . . he didn’t want to think about what they’d done. But then they all got sick, dying one by one, until, at the age of four, Blue was on his own. To survive, he ate out of trash cans.
A sweet old homeless man noticed him and tried to take care of him for a while. But it wasn’t long before Blue’s pretty face drew the notice of the wrong kind of people. The homeless man was stabbed and killed, and Blue shoved into a car.
That’s when power first bonded with him and activated.
Frantic, scared, he somehow caused the car to levitate and crash into a building. And when the survivors tried to drag him out, he caused
Michael found him two days later.
After feeding him, cleaning him, and clothing him, Michael ensured that Blue was given to a good home. One with lots of children, so that he would have brothers and sisters again.
At first, the parents included him in the family meals. He protested, wanting to be alone with his grief, and they finally stopped asking, allowing him to remain in his room. It was then that Blue decided they didn’t really like him, and that they were glad to be rid of him.
After that, every interaction was strained.
Looking back, without the pain of loss, he could see the couple had only been trying to help, doing everything possible to let him heal.
“Why don’t you ask Michael why he did what he did the next time you see him?” Blue said, using his gentlest tone. “The answer might surprise you.”
Dark eyes probed him, as if searching for answers he couldn’t give her. She offered him a small, sweet smile. “I will. Thank you.”
“Welcome.” He got back to business before he did something stupid, like pull her into his arms. “We need to find out everything we can about the Lucky Horn. If the lighter belongs to Fry Guy instead of Michael, we might be able to ID him.”
“I’m assuming Fry Guy is the man who tried to torch you.”
“Yes. If we can ID him, we can link him to friends. Friends who might know where Michael, John, and Solo are.”
She heaved a sigh of dread. “I have a feeling that includes a personal field trip.”
Blue nodded, astounded by the amount of dread building inside
Nothing.
