Black and Blue

Eleven

BLUE RESTED FOR A few hours but got up early to shower and clean the dye out of his hair. He threw away the contacts and removed all of the piercings, happy to be Bad Boy Chic again. He still had a line of scar tissue, but it would be gone in another day or two.

If Evie asked, he’d give himself a new one.

He dressed in a black T-shirt and slacks. Spares of Michael’s. Blue hadn’t expected to stay the night, so he hadn’t brought any extras. He headed to the kitchen.

Evie had beaten him there.

She leaned against the counter, sipping at a steaming mug of coffee. The sight of her arrested him. She had such long lashes. And were those faint little smudges on her nose freckles?

How had he never noticed them before?

She puckered her lips to blow on the coffee, both top and bottom red and deliciously swollen, as if she’d nibbled on them all through the night.

She, too, had found the necessary supplies to return her hair to its normal dark luster, the wavy locks flowing freely. She’d ditched the silicone bra, her breasts once again a perfect teacup shape.

Creeper! Stop eyeing her like you want to eat her.

Mmm . . . I want to eat her.

Cursing, he bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He hated challenges, he decided. Because he wanted Evie, desperately, and her parentage was one challenge he could never overcome.

If she were anyone other than Michael’s daughter, Blue would carry her to bed. Here. Now. But she was his daughter, so he couldn’t.

Gotta have sex soon. His body couldn’t take much more frustration without causing a worldwide power surge.

And yet, the thought of being with anyone else left him . . . hollow.

No one else would taste as good. Or feel as soft and warm. No one else would give back as good as she got and take whatever she wanted. No one else would satisfy him.

“Michael’s still sleeping,” she said, breaking the silence.

Perfect. No way Blue would be able to hide the raging party in his pants.

“I checked him over. His vitals are stable.”

“He’ll be in prime shape before you know it.” He confiscated the mug from her and drank before she could protest. “Listen, I’m going to arm up and head out. I want to case Star’s house before I go in.”

“Before you go in? I think you mean we.”

Hardly. But he had to tread carefully here. With Evie, he couldn’t use old faithful: It’s too dangerous, sugar dumpling, so let the big, bad man go and save the day. She would empty out his liver and fill it with rocks.

“Honestly, buttercup?” he said. “No matter how skilled you are, you’ll just get in my way. To get in and out undetected, I’ll have to move at a speed you won’t ever be able to match.”

Her lips thinned as she peered over at him. He held her stare without flinching—and, somehow, without grinning. He should be frightened rather than amused. If anyone could kill him and bury the evidence, it was this woman. But then, he was only just beginning to realize how much he liked the strong, fierce firecracker and her diabolical mind.

“I need you here,” he added, “at the computer, watching my back.” Literally. He would have a night-vision camera attached to the back collar of his shirt, streaming live feed. “It’s a job John and Solo have done many times in the past, not something meant to keep the little woman home safe. I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re lying.”

“We don’t lie to each other, baby doll. Remember?”

The fight drained out of her, and she nodded. “All right. But you better come back free of injuries, or I will slice off your favorite body part, name it something filthy and wrong, and sell it to the highest bidder.”

Again he wanted to grin. With those words, he realized Evie Black didn’t just desire him with the same fervency he desired her—she also liked him as much as he liked her. Something he’d noticed: she only threatened people she cared about.

I’m in trouble with this one, aren’t I?

* * *

As the sun set on the horizon, shadows began to thicken. Blue was able to place ten small cameras on the perimeter of Star’s country home, a huge compound surrounded by an iron gate, armed guards, and a forest of fake green trees.

“Done with the outside,” he whispered. He was roughly thirty yards from the mansion, hidden by a massive trunk. Not to mention the fact that his clothing had tiny microchips woven throughout, causing the fabric to blend with his surroundings every time he moved.

“I’ve disabled the laser sensors,” Evie said through the piece in his ear. “Avoid the middle of the gate and you should be fine.”

“?‘Should’?”

“Let’s find out together.”

Funny. “I’m about to go in.”

“Your six is clear.”

“All right. I’m moving in.” For protection, he had a pyre-gun, an image cloak, and a few daggers. For surveillance, he had a single sheet of microbugs—twenty-five peel-and-stick tabs to place throughout the home. “Unless you see something, I need you to be quiet from now on.” Her sexy voice was a distraction he couldn’t afford.

“Roger that.”

Deep breath in . . . hold . . . hold . . . As he released it, he surged forward, out from the shade and into the waning sunlight, moving at such a swift pace the guards would only register the slightest blur. He climbed the gate. As he placed a bug on the north, east, south, and west walls, he searched for the best entrance into the home. No one shot at him. No one cried out a warning.

“See something. Three giggling women in lingerie just snaked a corner behind you,” Evie said, her voice a caress in his ears. “Please tell me you didn’t accidentally stumble into a harem . . . oops. Shutting up now.”

Can’t laugh. A guard exited a side door. There. He slipped inside, unnoticed, as the metal began to close, and found himself in . . . a break room. Eight men. All armed. Some playing cards, some watching monitors that displayed the house grounds. He couldn’t slow; he would give himself away. He had to keep going, even though he didn’t know the layout.

When he reached a hallway with only one guard, he seized the opportunity. Finally slowing . . . stopping, Blue placed a hand over the male’s nose and mouth, and pinched his carotid, cutting off both of his airways. It wasn’t long before the guy sagged in his arms, a deadweight. He dragged the guy into a nearby storage closet.

“While we’ve got a moment, let’s revisit the lingerie,” he whispered to Evie. “You ever wear any?” Working as swiftly as possible, he switched off the chips in his clothing and held the image cloak—a small black band with a camera in the center—at the top of the guard’s head and scanned all the way to his feet.

“Actually, I prefer to go commando,” she admitted.

He moaned. How was he supposed to keep his hands off her now?

Michael, that’s how.

But Michael would understand if he caved. Surely.

As soon as the guard’s identity registered, Blue snapped the band around his own neck, and the guard’s hologram was cast, front and back, shielding his identity. “Here goes. Radio silence again.”

Blue stepped into the hall and walked as if he were simply out on patrol. He reached around every door and,