Bound by Light (7 page)

Trouble in the making, no shit.
Jake’s gaze shifted back to Merilee.
Like I’ve got any fucking room to talk.

Freeman cleared his throat. "Our afternoon patrols just reported that paranormal groups in the city are pulling up stakes and running like hell." He paused to let that information sink in, and Jake frowned.

His arousal faded away as he considered what the captain had just told them.

Paranormals, fleeing New York.

What would cause that?

His attention automatically moved back to Merilee, who was taking notes. Shorthand. In ancient Greek. And coded, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Impressive
. He studied the side of her face, the way her cheek curved upward in a full, pink bloom, then jerked his attention back to the captain.

"Many known ‘sensitives’ and sentients aren’t at their residences." Freeman recaptured Jake’s attention by suggesting the disappearances were citywide. "Unknown entities we’ve been tracking, they’ve gone underground, too."

"Shit," Cynda murmured, and a spit of fire wrapped itself around the metal table leg. Jake sensed the wave of earth energy Riana used to snuff the flames, and appreciated the soft, fragrant breeze Merilee sent forward to blow away the smoke.

"Half the pagans left on flights to San Francisco this morning, and the rest are moving around the city, performing protective rituals," Freeman continued. "All the Vodoun mambos and houngans south of our position are already gone. The few still hanging around, they’re buying bus tickets, renting cars, or just walking away, over the bridges and through the tunnels."

Merilee kept her eyes on her notes, jotting in the margins. Her expression had turned serious and worried.

Jake read the ancient Greek shorthand and mentally deciphered the code as fast as she produced it.

What do they know? Real info, sensation, instinct?

Check with Charlotte Heart, if still in town.

Stone Man?

Jake’s brow furrowed.

The first musing was easy enough to understand, and Charlotte Heart must be an informant. But the Stone Man? Who—or what—was that?

Merilee never looked up as Freeman finished his speech with "Get out, get to your sources, and find out what the hell’s going on—
right now
."

Freeman rattled off patrol assignments, pairing Sibyl triads with OCU partners and available Astaroths.

Jake watched as the groups got up to leave and find their demon partners, and he registered that his brothers were opting to work a double shift.

Why hadn’t his own name been called?

Was Freeman planning to stick him in the townhouse?

Shit. Jake tried to stay calm, but he wanted to stand and leave with everyone else. What the hell? He kept trying to catch Freeman’s eye, but the SOB was ignoring him.

Pointedly keeping his eyes away from Jake, Freeman turned to the pregnant Sibyls. "Riana, Cynda, you’ve got townhouse guard duty with Jackson, Brent, and Hargrove—and figuring out next week’s duty roster."

Jake relaxed a fraction.

Okay, not the townhouse—so . . . what?

Freeman offered Riana and Cynda a smile.

Both women glared at him.

Freeman sighed and let them glare. He kept ignoring Jake, and his next comment went to Andy. "We’re joining up with Creed and Nick."

Andy’s smile could have warmed the whole townhouse in the dead of winter. She started to get up, but Merilee caught her arm. "Andy can’t work without a Sibyl to help her with her elemental control." Merilee didn’t look angry or stubborn, but confident instead. Calm despite the newly reforming storm of voices, chair clattering, and the door banging open, then closed, as assigned groups headed out of the conference room.

Jake liked her self-possession. At the same time, he wondered what it would be like to see Merilee crazy, gasping and moaning from his kisses, his touches.

His cock got hard in seconds.

Come
on,
Freeman. Get me the hell out of here.

Jake closed his eyes and imagined Mother Anemone in various naked poses to regain control. When that didn’t work as well as he’d hoped, he envisioned the Russian Mothers, then the Irish Mothers—and that definitely did the trick.

When he opened his eyes, Andy had squared off with Merilee. Both women were standing beside him now.

Wind gathered around Merilee in tiny swirls. Jake figured only Sibyls could see the air energy moving. Well, Sibyls and demons.

"Our numbers suck right now," Andy said in the forceful, targeted voice of a longtime police officer. To Jake’s surprise, no sprinkler heads blew off, and no water seeped through the walls in response to her frustration. "I go where I’m needed."

When Merilee started to argue again, Andy cut her off with, "I was OCU before I knew any of you, Merilee. And that’s what I am tonight—a cop, not a Sibyl—and right now, I’m more useful that way." Her eyes drifted to Freeman, and the tops of her cheeks colored. "Don’t worry. I’ll behave."

"Not taking the chance." Merilee gripped her pad so tightly her knuckles turned white. "I’m coming with you."

"Stuff it, all of you." Freeman’s stern gaze moved to Merilee. "Last time I checked, I was still the captain, and
everyone
agreed to follow my lead."

Freeman leaned on the metal table in front of him and
finally
looked at Jake—with something like pity.

Unease stirred in Jake’s gut as he got to his feet beside Merilee and Andy. He was missing something here, probably something he wasn’t going to like.

Freeman gestured to Jake. "Merilee, you’re with the new Lowell."

Merilee’s shocked expression mirrored Jake’s own.

A vibration traveled through his entire body as she tensed, chin forward, and glared at Freeman.

Damn, she’s beautiful.

Shit, I can’t work with her.

He hadn’t told Freeman about his powerful attraction to Merilee. Kept it to himself. Mistake.

Stupid!

"Excuse me?" Merilee shouted over the room’s noise. "No. I fight with Sibyls."

"Sorry, we don’t have any Sibyls to spare," came Freeman’s terse reply. "In case you haven’t noticed."

Riana and Cynda started to argue Merilee’s case, but Freeman silenced them both by banging his palm against the metal table and demanding order. Even Andy flinched at the sound.

Jake, however, was having trouble hearing and processing anything. His insides pulled apart, then reconstituted.

Merilee.

He was paired with her.

Merilee.

Okay, fine. So he couldn’t avoid her now. No problem. He’d watch after her while her triad was down, like he promised Mother Anemone. That was what he’d do. Watch after her. Take care of her.

Yeah, buddy. And how.

He scrubbed his fingers against his chin to keep himself visible.

Merilee was shouting again, and the wind in the room picked up to minor gale levels. "Don’t I get a say in this?"

"No," came Freeman’s answer. "I’m not crossing the Sibyl Mothers, and this little
request
came from them a few minutes ago. I’m to keep Jake with you until your triad can fight again—so if you don’t like it, take it up with—what’s her name? Aminome? Anomaly?"

Jake lowered his hand.

His eyes narrowed.

"Anemone," he said through his teeth.

"That’s the one," Freeman said, both of his big fists still pressed against the metal table.

Rage surged in Jake’s chest. He should have known. Of all the stubborn, willful, deceitful, manipulating—fuck! He was being played by a woman thousands of miles across the ocean, and he couldn’t do a damned thing about it. Mother Anemone might as well have hold of his talisman again, jerking him around against his will.

No way. Not happening.

Mother Anemone should know better than to push him on this point. Besides, Merilee needed to work with other Sibyls, where she’d be comfortable and happy.

"Mother Anemone," Merilee echoed, still obviously stunned, but sounding resigned, too. "
She
wants this?" Jake turned to tell Merilee never mind, that he’d take care of this stupidity, but when she looked at him, his anger dissolved so fast he felt dizzy.

Those eyes . . .

That face . . .

Everyone else in the room faded out of Jake’s awareness, and he was standing just with Merilee now, her and only her. Warm air rose off her like sultry curtains, and he wanted to part that heat, step inside it, pull her against him, and press his lips against her hair. He wanted to breathe that white tea and honey up close, and taste her skin, and tell her . . . what?

I’ll look after you.

Or,
I’ll take care of you
.

Or maybe,
I think I’ll fall in love with you
. . .
after I fly to Greece and stuff your favorite Mother upside down in the wine cellar.

Merilee’s eyes gleamed, sun on bright blue water, as the full impact of the situation seemed to roll across her.

Her thunderous frustration faded, dissolved, and morphed into a sexy little smile.

"Okay," she said quietly, keeping up that smile until Jake’s fevered mind imagined sliding his tongue between those full, perfect lips.

"Okay," Merilee repeated.

I’m dying here.

"I can do this," she said, still smiling. "I can more than do this."

Snickers and giggles reminded Jake that other people—like Andy and Freeman and Merilee’s triad—were still in the room. His surroundings—conference room, Sibyls, cops, and all—came back to him with mind-jarring speed. Just as fast, he realized Merilee was completely aware of the thoughts and sensations battering his self-control.

That pissed him off enough to get a grip, at least for the moment.

With a curt nod to Freeman, Jake said, "Fine." Then to Merilee, to rattle her on purpose, "Are we going to see Charlotte Heart?"

Merilee’s eyes widened.

Seemingly on reflex, she lifted her pad, and Jake saw her add up the fact that he knew shorthand, and ancient Greek, and that he had deciphered her code as fast as she wrote the words on her pad.

He expected that to wipe that teasing little smile off her face.

Unfortunately for his increasingly miserable cock, it didn’t.

"Seriously." Merilee, who refused to wear her leather face mask because it was "too confining," blew Jake a kiss along with a gust of hot wind, then turned back to face the night-darkened neighborhood ahead of them. Her blond hair rippled like liquid gold in the breeze. "You can tell me you want me straight out. I don’t mind. I’m a big girl."

Jake felt like his head might explode.

Heads, actually.

What was he supposed to say?

I don’t want you?

He wasn’t a liar.

Not to mention the fact it didn’t take a shitload of vestigial memories to teach a man that telling a woman she wasn’t attractive—well, that would be stupid, to say the least.

Merilee knew all of that. No question in Jake’s mind, the way she was laughing.

Wind. The most relentless force on the planet. The next time I see Mother Anemone . . .

He and Merilee were moving north on foot, beside light traffic, four streets away from the townhouse and heading for the home of Charlotte Heart, coven priestess. Merilee had filled him in on Heart’s info and history, in between teasing him until he was ready to throw her down on the sidewalk, take her in front of the entire city, and just have done with it.

Only the austere residential setting with its iron gates, swept sidewalks, porch lights, and potted plants dissuaded him. Some kid might see. That, and he was supposed to be concentrating on observation, details, and potential threats to New York, its citizens, law enforcement officers, his new "partner," and himself.

Not breasts crossed by a quiver’s leather strap.

Not a leather-clad ass bouncing against the lower limb of an olivewood reflex bow, barely concealed by a silky black shawl.

Merilee dropped back to walk beside him, and her nearness made Jake’s throat close.

This was too damned complicated.

She should be out with a triad, boosting their spirits with her never-waning sense of humor. He should be with a human police partner, or maybe his brothers, patrolling. Concentrating. Not drooling.

Keep moving. Don’t look at her
.

He studied the dozen or more political posters hawking this candidate or that candidate for president. They hung everywhere, on walls and fences, even staked in yards. But Merilee was right beside him, and it might ease the pounding in his body if he just took her hand. It would be so easy to walk with her like a friend, a lover, instead of a fellow officer and warrior. She made him comfortable like that.