Touched by Lightning (5 page)

She retained control and coasted down the street, her brain buzzing with excitement and fear and other things she couldn’t figure out at the moment. When she thought she was far enough away, she pulled onto a side street. She chose her parking spot carefully, cutting the engine and walking the bike next to what appeared to be an abandoned house. A large bush would hide the bike, the all-black metal and fiberglass would blend in perfectly with the deepening shadows of the night.

As she pulled off her gloves and stuffed them inside the helmet, she told herself this was the dumbest idea she’d ever had. She was responsible for two deaths in the area in less than seventy-two hours. If her tattooed man was a member of the Order of Themis, which made sense the more she thought about it, he had to be gunning for her. Snooping around the headquarters was just asking for jail time and she wouldn’t have anyone to blame but herself.

Except she
had
to go, to learn as much about him and the O.T. as she could. The little girl hiding inside her, the one who’d been in silent awe of Estelle and Leo when they rescued her, was nearly squealing with excitement to finally see the infamous Office. Gyda, the cynic, told herself she was checking it out to see if they had any leads on her. As long as she stayed several steps ahead of the O.T., she was miles ahead of the police. She could let Tora finish their shopping list of death in this city and disappear without anyone being the wiser.

* * * * *

Brit marched double-time to Joe’s office, but only half of his attention was on that. The other half was on the sneaking suspicion he’d had that he was being followed. He’d taken the extra-long way to The Office, but that sensation hadn’t gone away. Whoever had been tailing him from Brown’s place hadn’t made any attempts to stop, attack or get close. It was a puzzle he planned to solve as soon as he told Joe where she could stick her Spa Night.

Headquarters was quiet since most daytime employees went home at five, but knowing Joe as he did, Brit knew he’d find her in her office. She’d want to get as much work done as she could before the torture she planned for the evening. Using the special key he’d been given for the penthouse express elevator, he stepped inside and rested against the wall as he waited for the car to reach the top floor. An endless cycle of the Spice Girls played over the speakers, special punishment for those who dared to visit Joe by unconventional means.

He shook his head. God love the woman, but she was insane. In a good way. Out of anyone in the entire company, Brit knew damn well Joe gave her heart and soul to the cause of protecting the innocent from evil. She wasn’t a saint by any means. The professional basketball players she dated could tell the world horror stories about Joe’s temper if they weren’t scared for their lives. The other sector leaders were well aware of how tough she was even if she was the first woman to ever reach the position of Director. But when it boiled down to it, Joe was the one person Brit knew he could trust with his life. She might try to mother him to death, but she’d have his back no matter what.

His shoulders slumped the closer he got to the penthouse suite. Was it so awful to get a pedicure if it made her happy? He bit back a groan and swiped a hand over his face. Maybe he did need to relax. This mystery woman was wreaking havoc on his brain. He’d spent three hours going over mug shots the day before in the hopes of finding her picture there. Especially after one of the interns came back with hits from several cities across the US that had unsolved cases involving castrated and executed scum. Men who were well-known for their criminal connections, possible connections to human trafficking and each one had been executed with cold precision. Brit bet if he could pin this woman down and get her to answer some questions, he’d find that she’d been in those cities at the time of the deaths. He wasn’t sure he could call it murder since all the men had been bastards of the worst kind.

Between his fierce satisfaction in those deaths and his vows to support the O.T.’s credo of leaving justice in the hands of the authorities piled on top of his instant attraction for the woman and he was as wound up as a buck in rutting season. He’d jerked off so many times he’d left scorch marks on his sheets, an embarrassing telltale sign that his libido was climbing the charts into unstable territory. Sure, he could visit one of the women who didn’t mind a little electric thrill with their fucking, but just thinking about any of them left him cold with a limp dick that only stirred to life when he pictured bright-green eyes.

The soft ding of the elevator and the final refrain of
Wannabe
sounded as it reached the floor of Joe’s suite of offices. Glad to have something else to think about other than his dick and the woman who kept coming to mind when he was…well, coming, Brit stepped out of the car and turned left for Joe’s office. But he needn’t have bothered because his boss stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the hall.

“It’s about time you got here,” she said without taking her attention off whatever she was staring at through a pair of binoculars. She wore a neat suit in pink. The matching heels put her at six foot six and well over Brit’s five-foot-ten height, but she still managed to appear fragile. Sort of. Then she spoke and he wanted to forget everything his mama had taught him about not hitting girls. “I was beginning to think you really wanted to get a pedicure.”

He stopped a few feet away, not just because of her words, but because Joe’s massive Irish wolfhound, Mr. Dimples, slinked out of a side door and planted himself at her side. The fawn-colored hound was easily the biggest dog Brit had ever seen and it took its position as Joe’s sidekick seriously. The dog sat, his head reaching his mistress’s waist. Mr. Dimples didn’t even seem to mind his ridiculous name or the fluorescent-pink ribbon tied around his neck. Wherever Joe was, that’s where the dog would be and woe it be to anyone who looked at her wrong.

Brit glared at the dog who he swore gave him a canine grin in return. “You set me up.”

She nodded. “I totally did. I wanted to see who your shadow was.”

His irritation with her faded. “My shadow?” Curiosity overcame wariness of Mr. Dimples and Brit finished walking toward Joe to stand at her side—her
other
side—and she passed him a pair of pink glitter binoculars to match her own. He almost refused to use them, but he was too intrigued to complain much. However, he did check the corridor and all corners of the window to make sure she didn’t have cameras on him before he put the equipment to his eyes and followed the direction of her gaze.

At first all he saw was his reflection in the window with Joe’s pink suit at his side. Then the high-tech binoculars slowly adjusted to the change in lighting, allowing him to see beyond the glass. Sweeping his gaze back and forth along the street below, it took him a minute to see the person who’d caught Joe’s attention. A lean shadow clad in black slipped down the street with the lithe grace of a dancer. His heart began to pound with excitement. Instinct told him this was his mystery lady. Logic said chances were it was someone else, but Brit hadn’t made it through life by ignoring his gut reaction and his gut said this was his girl.

She cleared the pools of warm light cast by the gas lamps surrounding the front of the building and made her way to the side of The Office. Brit stepped closer to the glass to keep an eye on her, but she disappeared from sight when she pressed herself against the wall.

“She’s trying the cargo doors,” Joe murmured. “Interesting. If it wasn’t for the memories of you and that night with Mendoza, I’d think this is a completely different person.” She lowered her binoculars and pinched the bridge of her nose. “The other woman felt wild and dangerous. This one feels…dangerous, but more like a danger to herself.”

Brit pivoted on his heel and jogged to the elevators. “I’m going to meet our mystery lady,” he shot over his shoulder. “It’s up to you if you want to meet her as well.”

“Brit,” Joe called out from the end of the hall, but when he turned she was right behind him. Damn teleporters. She grinned and grabbed his arm. “It’ll be quicker if we travel my way.”

Before he could do more than open his mouth to tell her hell to the fucking no, the world went nauseatingly fuzzy and the bottom fell out of his stomach. Body threatening to fly apart from the abrupt change in location, Brit nearly hit the concrete floor of the motor pool. He barely caught himself and staggered away from the crazy woman who fluffed her hair as though she’d just stepped out of a salon and not someone who’d just traveled twelve floors in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t
do
that,” he groaned at her as he tried to regain his equilibrium.

“Whatever, pussy,” was her response. The harsh insult coming from her glowing, cheerleader-like countenance left Brit shaking his head. “Now strap on your balls and act like the badass you’re paid to be.”

Shocked and amused despite himself, Brit straightened and sucked in several deep breaths to calm his stomach. The motor pool was quiet this time of night with only a couple of guys working the counter on the far end of the building. The street teams who worked the night shift had already gone and the day crew had long left for their downtime. His mystery lady had picked the perfect time to stalk The Office and if Joe hadn’t been there, Brit would’ve had fun with her in return. But somehow he didn’t see the Director letting him play a game of cat and mouse with a woman he wanted to pounce on more than anything.

“Damn skippy,” she agreed with a shudder. “And if you keep thinking that way, I’m going to schedule you an appointment with Dr. McPherson. You think about sex entirely too much, Brit. You might need help.”

“Stay out of my head,” he shot back absently, heading for the personnel door next to the cargo bay.

Joe followed, her heels clip-clopping on the concrete. “It’s kind of hard to ignore it when you’re practically shouting it in your head.” She stopped walking, going preternaturally still. “Reinforce your mental shields.”

Brit paused a moment and made sure the barriers around his mind were in place. Most supes had them as a defense mechanism, but it took years of practice to make them impenetrable and he’d done that with Joe’s help, making him damn near impossible to read if he didn’t want to be.

“I’m so glad you find me useful for something other than giving you heartburn,” she murmured.

“Shh,” he ordered as he stopped next to the door and listened for his mystery lady.

Joe stood directly behind him, her breath stirring the hair at the top of his head. The soft scraping of metal against metal and the click of the lock told him she was breaking into the building. He wasn’t sure if he should shake his head at her stupidity or be impressed by the ballsy move. Most criminals avoided coming anywhere near The Office. It would be like hanging around a prison when you broke out. Nearly everyone who passed through the doors of the O.T. Headquarters were supes and trained in weaponry. It was suicidal. Yet this woman wasn’t just hanging around the offices, she was breaking in.

Brit pulled back, forcing Joe farther away from the door when the sound of the tumblers being engaged sounded. His heart pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out the familiar squeak of the hinges. He’d have to talk with maintenance about oiling the doors, but for now he was glad to have the telltale noise. Blood pumped through his body, carrying with it the electricity that made Joe shift away from him to avoid being shocked.

The door swung open, but no one appeared for so long he almost gave up his position. Then, silent as a wraith, his mystery woman slipped into the building. If he hadn’t been staring so hard at the doorway, he might have missed her. Slipping through the door on swift, silent feet, she stuck to the shadows along the wall, but there was no way she could hide completely in the garage. The dim light picked up the gleam of silver adorning her nose and eyebrows, emphasizing the air of danger hovering around her. Pressure against his mental shields told him she was putting out feelers to see if anyone was in the building, but he held firm, masking his presence. Which gave him the element of surprise.

Quick as a rattlesnake, Brit reached for her. The electricity humming through his veins caused his hands to glow pale blue. The encroaching light alerted his prey to his mad grab and she turned toward him, flashing silver blades. He knew without looking that he had a feral grin on his face. It wasn’t because he wanted to hurt her, it wasn’t even because he wanted retribution for the death she’d dealt out. Like a runner reaching for the tape at the finish line, barely concealed glee filled him because he was finally going to get his hands on the woman who’d driven him crazy from the moment he first saw her.

Pale-blue light where there should’ve only been darkness made Gyda’s heart leapt into her throat even as she grabbed for her knives. But as fast as her reflexes were, they were nothing compared to the glowing man whose hands landed on her biceps before she could do more than turn his way. Electricity shot through her body, sizzling along her veins until it seemed every cell buzzed with the high. It should have hurt. She was certain it was supposed to, but instead an illicit thrill of pleasure raced straight from her nerve endings to her pussy, which slickened with immediate arousal.

Startled, she glanced up at the man whose intense brown eyes watched her with equal parts attraction and determination. She wasn’t sure what scared her more, the lust she felt radiating from him like heat, or the way she responded to him. Maybe Sixteen’s thoughts had influenced her too much, but he didn’t look the way she’d imagined. He appeared more rugged than Sixteen’s memories led her to believe, his face harder, his eyes darker and the lips just inches from her own, softer. Why her gaze was drawn to his mouth, to the plump bottom lip that seemed to beg for a nip, was anyone’s guess.

Sixteen hovered on the fringe of her mind, the hedonist ready to take advantage of this excitement, but Gyda shoved her to the side and twirled her blades by the handles until the sharp edges rested against her attacker’s forearms. The instant the metal touched his skin, it caused the buzzing to grow stronger and more pronounced. Gyda gasped, her nipples tightening into nearly painful points. What the fuck was wrong with her? She felt…out of control, as though her body wasn’t her own and it wasn’t the same way as when Sixteen or Tora took over. No, this was all her…but a new kind of her.

The electric pulses seemed to seek out her erogenous zones, playing them like an expert musician until all she could think about was the hungry fire between her legs. She clenched her thighs together, heat from her own arousal threatening to combat the lightning racing through her blood. This was so far outside her experience, she nearly dropped her knives. But Gyda hadn’t been sailing along with Sixteen at the helm of her ship for nothing. She might not always approve of Sixteen’s means of gaining vengeance for them, but she’d damn well learned how to handle her body. With that thought in mind, she refused to be distracted by her body’s unwelcome hungers and pressed deeper with the blade, an unspoken threat for him to let go or the blood would flow.

But instead of letting her go the way most sane people would to avoid bloodshed, this man pulled her
closer
, not stopping until she was pressed tightly to his torso and had to tilt her head back to keep her eyes on his face. If she’d thought the energy pulsing through her was intense from having his hands on her arms, it was nothing compared to having her breasts smashed to his hard chest and the rounded curve of her belly acting as a cradle for what was an unmistakable erection. The barrier of her clothes was no protection against his power, even adding to the sensual caress as the electric tingles spread out to encompass her whole body.

Her eyes widened in shock, but even then she couldn’t move. She didn’t understand why she wasn’t freaking out. When she was in control, she despised men touching her, or even looking at her the way this man was. Yet she didn’t feel the intense need to slit his throat, or to lower her gaze in submission. She didn’t have the urge to revert back to how she was before, to the sex slave who’d do what she was told to avoid being hurt, nor did she feel as though she needed Tora or Sixteen to save her. For the first time in her life, Gyda was experiencing hunger for sex with her own libido.

She opened her mouth, though she knew no words would pass her lips. She hadn’t spoken since, well, before her rescue, yet she almost needed to say something, even if it was to mouth something to him. But he didn’t give her the chance. As quickly as he’d snatched her arms, he lowered his head and claimed her lips.

Brit was going to spontaneously combust. There was no other way to describe the fire burning beneath his skin. He’d purposely lowered the intensity of his electricity to avoid hurting her. Normally that would result in his opponent either surrendering to escape pain, or it enticed them to attack. Because he hadn’t intended to actually grab her, hadn’t realized he was doing it until he had her slim arms in his hands, he’d been hoping for the former, but expecting the latter. Neither had happened. Sure, she’d threatened him with her knives, the blades still pressed a little tighter to his skin than he liked, but her skin flushed as his electricity licked through her nervous system. Her breathing grew ragged and her gorgeous eyes dilated. She practically melted in front of him, her eyes wary but drooping with pleasure. From his powers.

Now, his mama didn’t raise no fool. Brit knew there were women out there who enjoyed a bite of pain with their pleasure. He’d purposely sought them out when he wanted bed partners, but even then he’d felt wrong for the shocks he gave them as he pleasured them, as though it were something dirty. With this woman, this complete stranger with a homicidal streak, he felt like part of a puzzle meeting the other piece intended for him. The plug to her outlet, or whatever other hokey comparisons to make when a man found a woman he thought was meant to be his.

Pulling her closer forced more of his power into her, power that she soaked up and released back to him in a steady current, as though together they operated as a closed circuit. Brit told himself to let her go, that this wasn’t the way to conduct an interrogation. She was a killer, had followed him back to Headquarters for a reason. Fuck, she’d broken into the building. Obviously she wasn’t here to ask him on a date. But when she parted her lips as though she were going to say something profound, he lowered his head and kissed her.

Part of him, the cool, logical part of his mind that had seen more than one man brought down by a beautiful woman told him he was being a complete moron and following the wrong head. She could slit his wrists by the time he came up for air. She could knee him in the balls, stab him in the back, the heart, the spleen or anywhere else she liked. But Brit’s instinct went on the attack, shoving logic away and turning its keen attention on the woman.

She tasted like spices and mint, heat followed by coolness, as though to soothe any sting he might feel. His tongue lapped at her bottom lip, the plump cushion just begging him to suck on it. Which he did, tugging on the soft tissue, nipping it and laving away the small hurt. Her breathing quickened even more. The hard points of her nipples seared him right through their clothes and his dick tried to climb out of his pants to get to the heat he knew lay between her shapely thighs. But she didn’t open her mouth to him. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t kiss him back. Not at first.

He flicked and nibbled his way from one side of her mouth to the other, teasing the corners with the tip of his tongue. His heart threatened to pound right out of his chest, the arousal firing his need to conquer whatever held her immobile. And then, as though she had to concentrate on it, her mouth relaxed against his, her teeth parting and allowing him a deeper taste.

Brit let go of her biceps, forgetting about the knives for the moment, to wrap his arms around her lithe body, holding her even closer. Every inch of the front of her body was plastered against his and the feel of those gentle slopes and curves molding to him tore a groan from his throat. He chased her tongue into her mouth, determined to get her to taste him in return, to play with him and his dick pulsed at the feel of the slick warmth he discovered. Perfection.

Men are idiots.

The exasperated voice of his boss entered his mind, an unwelcome intrusion into one of the hottest kisses he’d ever had that eclipsed some of the straight-up sex he’d had.

Seriously? I hope she can’t read minds, because that has to be the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard and I’ve heard some bad ones.

He broke away from the kiss and growled, “Will you please shut the fuck
up
?”

The woman jumped at his words, pulling back, her knives scraping along his forearms. He hissed as he lost what felt like two layers of skin before she managed to break away completely. His electricity had dwindled down as he kissed her, his body humming with a different kind of current and his dick was so hard he couldn’t summon it back right away.

“I don’t mean you,” he blurted to his mystery woman, who leapt back with knives at the ready. He held his hands up, a feeling of déjà vu creeping over him. “I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at him. Her puffy lips sort of ruined the tough-girl image but he admired the way she silently dared him to come at her. If his boss hadn’t been standing somewhere nearby and privy to his every frigging thought, he might have taken up her challenge and tackled her to the ground. Or at least swung her over his shoulder to make off with her like some war prize.

“Ahem.”

His mystery woman jumped, clearly startled to realize they weren’t alone and her gaze darted around the warehouse, seeking out Joe. He knew the instant she saw the other woman, because her eyes widened. Her hands tightened on her knives until her knuckles turned white. The lithe body that had him throwing wood like a teenager tensed and she balanced herself on the balls of her feet. A clear indication that she was in attack mode.

“We won’t hurt you,” he corrected himself, stepping closer to the door to prevent her from going out that way. Hoping to calm her and prevent more bloodshed, he decided introductions were in order. “I’m Britton Harper and this is Director Josephina Daly.”

Her eyes widened until he could see the whites all the way around the vivid green irises. The aroused flush on her skin melted away, leaving chalky paleness behind. To anyone who wasn’t watching her as closely as Brit was, they wouldn’t have seen the fine tremor that shook her hands, but he did and felt a pang of sympathy for her. It couldn’t be easy knowing you were in the presence of one of the most important people in the country. Any regular person would’ve been intimidated. This woman had broken into what was basically Joe’s house and then been soundly kissed by another member of the O.T..

But then Joe did what she did best. She was herself.

“Hi,” she chirped with all the cheer in her tall, voluptuous body, bouncing forward on her heels until she loomed over the shorter woman. “I thought I was gonna have to take the hose to you two.”

On the bright side, his mystery woman didn’t look as though she’d faint anymore. However, if her face turned any redder, Brit thought he might need to get her a cool compress. Or a respirator. He glared at Joe, who didn’t look the least bit bothered by his silent reprimand.

Joe leaned closer, not at all fazed by the wickedly sharp knives that could slash her throat at any moment. She cocked her head as she studied the woman, her long hair sweeping down in a golden fan before it settled along her shoulder.

“You don’t feel the same as you did the other night,” she said thoughtfully, blue eyes narrowed on the woman before her. “You don’t feel as…wild. Who
are
you?”

And wasn’t that the question of the hour?

Gyda wasn’t sure who she felt more threatened by. Britton, the man who’d kissed her within an inch of her life, or Josephina, the Director of the Order of Themis. She recognized the woman from Sixteen’s memories of the Mendoza extermination. This time the woman wore a pink power suit with stiletto heels. She looked sophisticated and polished, but despite the color she wore, nothing about her appeared soft. Josephina Daly looked as though she could smash grimy little supes like Gyda without breaking a sweat.

Despite the obvious danger staring her in the face in the guise of a pastel-wearing Amazon, Gyda’s gaze was drawn back to the tattooed man standing beside the tall woman. He’d
kissed
her. Fuck it, he’d damn near devoured her and she’d…liked it. A lot. Her panties were soaked and she knew her nipples had to be standing in sharp relief against her shirt. Arousal wasn’t something she’d experienced. She recognized it because of Sixteen’s memories, but she’d never expected to feel it herself. And she wasn’t sure if she liked it, because there was a severe loss of control involved. Control over herself, over her reactions, meant everything to her. Yet she’d just about given them to Britton on a silver platter. She’d ceded ground to him when he pressed for a deeper kiss, her curiosity and arousal overriding her good sense.

The dark, hungry look in his eyes suggested she wasn’t the only one who’d nearly lost control tonight and that scared her more than anything, wiping nearly all traces of lingering arousal and awe. She didn’t need to be anywhere near a man who couldn’t control himself. Been there, done that and almost couldn’t find her way back. The hazy recollections threatened to overwhelm her then and there, the lingering shocks from Britton’s power doing little to stop them. Only knowing she couldn’t fall apart in front of these people kept her from doing something—anything to stop the memories from coming back.

The woman speaking drew Gyda’s attention again, but with it came a slow pressure in her mind, as though someone was trying to pick at her shields. Heart slamming against her chest with fear and panic, Gyda shoved back with all her strength and the woman in pink staggered back a few steps, her hand coming up to touch her temple as though she’d just developed a severe headache.

“Joe?” Britton asked without turning to look at her. “You okay?”