Black and Blue (37 page)

“Are you all right, darling?” Star asked.

Tears beaded in her lashes. Gaze locked on Blue, she shook her head no, her lips smashed together as if she didn’t want to speak.

“Answer him out loud,” Blue snarled.

A heavy pause as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Y-yes, Daddy. I’m all right.”

“Good.” The tenor of Star’s voice had changed. From concerned to commanding. “Then do what I told you to do. My men are already in place.”

Click
.

Blue’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I told you that you’d regret this.” Tiffany closed her eyes, tremors rocking her entire body. She breathed in and out, as if trying to calm herself, before bending down and removing one of her shoes. She fit her fingers into grooves at the sides before tossing it in the center of the living room. That done, she grabbed a small silver hook resting at the toe of the other shoe.

Trying not to panic, Blue shook the bars. “What did he mean?”

“My brother found the isotope tracker Miss Black meant to use on him, and figured you’d used one on me,” she said softly. “A little hacking proved him right. My father has been tracking me, too. He knows where I am. He’s known all along. His men are waiting outside the perimeter. And now it’s too late. I have to do what he told me. I have to punish you for embarrassing him. Have to show his clients he can deliver whatever he promises. If not,
I’ll
be punished. And if not me, then Tyson. I don’t want either of us to be punished. I’m sorry.”

He believed her and knew something terrible was about to go down. He’d brought Evie into an ambush and hadn’t had a clue. Some agent he was. “How many men? What’s the plan?”

Tiffany’s smile was sad. “He said to tell you that you began this way, and so you’ll end this way.”

With that, she tugged on the hook, and a black cloth pulled free. A cloth she spread over her entire body.

This way, she’d said. The shoe. The covering. Blue put two and two together.

Heart slamming against his ribs, he shouted, “Bomb!” and whipped around, diving on top of Evie. They crashed onto the ground just as the shoe bomb detonated.

White-hot heat blasted through the room, lifting him up and ripping Evie from his arms. He landed with a horrible smack, his lungs without air. Smoke was so thick he felt as though he were drowning in it. Debris rained in every direction. Pieces of wall here. Computer parts there. Fires, fires everywhere.

Coughing, Blue staggered to his feet. His leg throbbed. He looked down. His pants had been scorched away. A bone protruded through his skin. Whatever. He stumbled through the smoke. “Evie,” he shouted.

Please be all right. Please be all right.

He found her in the next room and fell to his knees at her side. No.
No!

She wasn’t all right.

Her body lay at an odd angle, her spine clearly severed. There were gashes on her cheeks, blood all over her beautiful face. One of her eyes was swollen shut. The other was glassed over as it tracked his motions.

“Blue,” she said, and a crimson river flowed from the side of her mouth. “You okay?”

“Shh. Shh. Don’t talk, baby.” He wasn’t too late. He could fix this. He had to fix this.

He ripped apart what remained of her shirt and flattened both of his hands on her chest, then closed his eyes. In his mind, he saw his very essence sweeping through her, through blood and muscle and bone, trading what remained of his health for every one of her injuries.

Inside, he felt his cells bursting, his tissues ripping,
his bones snapping. It hurt. Oh, it hurt. Then his legs went numb. His arms stopped working. His heart stuttered into a warped beat as if it had been nailed into his chest wall by his ribs and couldn’t escape. He fell to the side, barely able to breathe.

Worth it.

Because, a second later, Evie sat up. The swelling had left her face. The gashes had stitched together. She looked over at him and cried out with dismay.

“Blue! No, no, no.” She pressed her fingers into the pulse of his neck. “What did you do?
Why
did you do it? You idiot! I will never forgive you or myself if something happens to you.”

“Well, I for one am glad he did it.” Tyson Star stomped into the room, the smoke parting as he pointed a gun at her face.

A roar brewed in the back of Blue’s throat, but he was too weak to release it. He tried to gather the strength to put himself in front of Evie, to shield her, but he couldn’t. Frustration and fury battled for supremacy.

“Stand up, Miss Black,” Tyson commanded. He had two black eyes and a cut in the center of his nose.

Courtesy of his last run-in with Evie?

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. She raked her gaze over Blue, as if she meant to start tending him here and now, despite their audience. “I have to—”

“Evangeline,” Blue gasped. “Please. Do what he says.” In a few hours Blue would heal. Maybe faster, if he could get his hands on someone. Someone healthy, that is. Blue could drain their strength, taking it into himself as easily as he’d taken Evie’s injuries. All she
had to do was stay alive until then. Once he was strong enough, he would tear Star’s world apart and she would never be threatened again.

Tyson switched his aim, the barrel now pointed at Blue. “Listen to your man before I kill him.”

Evie jumped to her feet. “Okay. Okay. I’m up. But you listen to me, you miserable little worm. Anything you do to him, I will remember and I will revisit upon you a thousand times worse.”

He smiled smugly. “Dead women can’t follow through with their threats.”

Four men marched into the room. One carried an uninjured Tiffany. The other three were empty-handed.

“Where’s the father?” Tyson snapped, the smugness gone. “Michael Black.”

“Either his body is buried under the rubble or he was able to run. Again.”

As he pondered what to do, Tyson flicked the tip of his tongue over an incisor. “Two of you search the surrounding area. If he’s out there, he’s injured. There will be a blood trail. I don’t want to leave anything to chance. Not this time.”

Two of the men rushed out.

To the remaining, empty-handed guard, he said, “Carry the football player to the van.” He glared at Evie and grinned. “I’ll take care of the girl.”

E
VIE WOKE UP TIED
to a bed.

Her first reaction was confusion. Then memories surfaced. She had been with Blue, and he had been on the phone with Gregory Star. Tiffany had cried, and there had been an explosion. Evie had been hurt, unable to move. Dying. Cold, so cold. Then Blue had loomed over her, and heat had filled her, and the pain had vanished. Yet he’d fallen over, suddenly pallid, his features pinched with pain.

She wasn’t sure what happened. Unless . . . he took her injuries into himself?

Maybe. The wonderful, beautiful idiot!

Then Tyson appeared.

Tyson. Yes.

He must have drugged her. She fought as a large male hefted Blue over his shoulder, unconcerned about the warrior’s broken spine. A hard hand pressed a cloth into her nose, and her body went lax. Darkness descended.

Now her fight-or-flight response kicked in, and, as always, fight won. She jerked against her bonds until the skin on her wrists and ankles was shredded and blood dripped from the wounds.

Not helping the situation, girl.

Panting, she sagged against the mattress. Took stock. She was trapped in a room of utter luxury. There was a chandelier overhead, thousands of crystals glinting in the light. The walls were papered with slightly yellowed lace. Clearly an older home. In the Western district, maybe. An affluent “don’t ask, don’t tell” part of town.

The door opened, hinges groaning, and Tyson strolled in. He wore a business suit and had his hair slicked back, not a strand out of place. His gaze immediately sought her. “Good. You’re awake.”

Anger rocked her. “Where’s Blue?”

“What? No worry for your father? We haven’t yet found him, you know, so half of our forces are out there looking. But don’t get any ideas about trying to escape while we’re so divided,” he rushed to add, realizing he’d said more than he should. “As weak and puny as you are, you’ll never be able to take on all of us.”

Weak? Puny?

Trying to save face for the nose job I gave you?

She couldn’t worry about her father. It would cloud her thoughts, compromise her instincts. Besides, he could take care of himself. “What do you plan to do with Blue?”

“Me? Nothing.” Tyson removed his jacket, revealing the pyre-guns sheathed at his sides. “Your man made a mistake challenging my father. He’ll make sure Blue understands that before he kills him.”

Have to escape. Have to save him.
“What are you going to do with me?”

There was a pitcher of water on the dresser. He poured himself a glass and drained the contents. His features were pinched as he said, “To be honest, I haven’t figured that out yet.”

He wasn’t as hard-core as his father or he would have hurt her already. She could work with that.

If possible, establish camaraderie.
“Will you cut me loose, at least? Please. I don’t have any weapons. I don’t even know where I am. There’s nothing I can do to you while I’m this weak, and nowhere I can go.”

He ignored her, lifting her purse. “I remembered the weapons you had in the last bag, so I thought I’d find a treasure trove in this one after I peeled it from your unconscious body. Instead, all I found was toys.” He sneered. “Just one of many mistakes you’ve made.”

Each one of those toys will drop and sock you, boyo.
“What can I say? I’m easily bored.”

“That’s because you had a rich, pampered childhood. Unlike Tiffany and me, who were punished for every wrong we ever committed, real or otherwise.” He poured another glass and brought this one to her, placing the cup at her lips.

She drank greedily, desperate to wash the soot from her throat. When she finished, she licked her mouth and, to relax him, offered a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re lucky I decided to keep you,” he said tightly, “rather than let my father do what he wanted to do to you.” He set the cup aside and traced his knuckles along her jaw.

She flinched from the contact, acting the part of the frightened little lamb.

A muscle ticked under his eye. “I’m not a bad guy, Miss Black.”

Okay. Screw camaraderie. A statement that grotesquely wrong couldn’t be ignored. “Your father has kidnapped and killed innocent people. He removed the skin of a living man. He bombed two of my father’s homes. This time you helped him. So, yes, you’re a bad guy.”

He scowled down at her. “Is this the part where you try to convince me to help you prove I’m nothing like the man who sired me? Well, let me save you the trouble. No one challenges my father, and that includes me. I’ve never bucked the system, for myself or my sister, and I certainly won’t do it for you. A pretty woman whose sharp little tongue ruins everything.”

Only a strong man could truly appreciate a strong woman. “Tyson,” she said, once again going for frightened little lamb.

His scowl morphed into the semblance of a smile. “Bet you wish you’d been nicer to me over the years, huh?”

With that, he strode from the room, shutting her inside.

Over the years?

She’d encountered him at a few parties, she was sure, but she couldn’t recall being rude to him specifically.

You’ve been rude to everyone.

Okay. True.

There was no clock, so she couldn’t track time. She only knew an eternity passed. Her stomach growled. Her bladder filled and began to hurt. She worried about Blue, about what was being done to him. Had
Michael been well enough to follow Tyson here? Was her father aware she had the isotope in her blood? That he could track her the same way Star tracked Tiffany?

Maybe not. But if Tiffany was here . . . He could track
her
.

Would Star really be that stupid, though?

Finally, Tyson returned. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothing wrinkled. There were lipstick stains on his collar, and he reeked of smoke, alcohol, and sex.

“I’ll be nicer to you,” she said with as much eagerness as she could muster. “Please. Just free me. I have to use the bathroom.”

“I know you’ll be nicer, Miz Black. You’ve had time to think and you’ve realized it’ll be better for you to make friends with me and do whatever I tell you.” Smirking, he stumbled to her side and untied her, surprising her.

Don’t leap into action. Wait. Plan.

He remained at her side, rather than offering to escort her to the bathroom. She rubbed at her wrists. Was he too drunk to remember her major badassery skills? Or did he think the threat over Blue would keep her docile? Yeah. That one. Typical bully move.

“What time is it?” she asked in an effort to keep him relaxed.

“Midnight. The time for lovers,” he said with a leering grin.

Gah! Gonna play that game, were they? “Is Blue here? In this house?”

“Still worried about him? How sweet. Well, you’ll be happy to know he is indeed here, and he’s alive. Barely.
We wanted you close to him, just in case we needed to convince him to behave.” His gaze bored into hers. “But I’d be better off killing you, I think. I can’t ever let you go. You know too much.”