Baited (The Chronicles of the Hunter Book 2)

by Jackie Ivie

  “You—!” He bit his tongue before he said something he couldn’t take back. And then he started yelling. Rocking in place. Clearly venting with each expletive. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! To hell! And back!”

  “You need to watch your language, please.”

  Her interruption was said with the same calm tone. Adam took a deep breath. Held it for a count of ten. His heart kept time. The enraged blood shade behind his vision faded with each heartbeat. He exhaled slowly. Regarded her for another long moment. She didn’t look remotely angelic.

  Anywhere.

  “Why should I?” he finally asked. The words were clipped. Abrasive. Indicating he hadn’t quite conquered his anger yet. It was the best he could manage.

  “Because I requested it.”

  “Oh. I forgot. You’re supposedly an angel. And, what? That means you have a problem with cursing? Well, shit. Damn. And another hell to top it off, lady.”

  She regarded him for long enough he had to swallow. And then he noticed something weird. She had a flush to her skin. And a rash of goose bumps on her skin. As if she might be a lot more interested than she sounded...

  Nah.

  Too far-fetched.

  “I have a problem with you,” she replied.

  Adam cleared his throat. “Oh. Well. I assure you. The feeling’s mutual.”

  “Good. I suggest you keep it that way.”

  Adam looked skyward for a moment. Took another deep breath. Held it. Exhaled. He’d been right about the setting for the attempted stunt. The sunset was spectacular. Full of red and gold. It would be impossible to miss a smoke trail from his bike explosion. That meant he’d have the fire department to contend with as well as police. Once they figured out the trail of ownership of the bike, anyway. It had been provided by his Belgian sponsor, Strauss Brewing.

  That was one plus to the situation.

  If his guys managed to bail without getting caught on somebody’s cell phone camera, they could potentially avoid legal entanglements over this. For the moment, anyway. That would be another plus. Adam returned his attention back to her.

  “Look. Jezebel. For information purposes, I have to tell you. You are the last thing I would be interested in. Whoever and whatever you are. The. Absolute. Last. Got it?”

  She moved her head as if running her gaze down his frame. And then she did the same thing back up. Adam forced his muscles not to react. It was useless. There was something odd happening here. Something he could sense but not see. He wasn’t just tensing muscles. He was preening. This was impossible. And embarrassing. He’d been better off with anger.

  “That is not a very nice thank you, Mister Ballantine,” she informed him when she’d finished.

  “Why the hell should I thank you?”

  “I asked you to watch your language,” she replied.

  Adam’s reply sounded like a growl from between set teeth. Good. It helped with the anger he was attempting to portray. Not much, but some. He stared down into her dark lenses. That was another plus to this. He hadn’t known her dimensions before. Apparently, she was about average height. She was quite the package. She’d fit nicely beneath his chin...right against his pecs.

  Oh.

  Shit.

  That was a misplaced thought. Totally random. Unasked for. And completely out of place. But she really had a fantastic figure. Perfect breasts. And he’d been right. Her little nipples were puckered and tight. He couldn’t help noticing. She wore tight-fitting denims and a figure-hugging tank top. The view was playing havoc with his thought process. Anger and surprise had disappeared without as much as a vapor trail. He didn’t dare name the sensations that had replaced them. He looked away before it got displayed on him visually.

  “You ready, then?” she asked.

  “For what?” He brought his gaze back to her, but kept it on his reflection in her lenses. That seemed safest.

  “Thanking me.”

  “Thanking you? You just ruined a mind-blowing stunt. Wrecked a few thousand dollars worth of bullet-bike. Brought a lot of attention. Oh. Listen. I can hear sirens approaching already.”

  “I just saved your buttocks, Adam.”

  Adam snickered. He couldn’t help it. “What? You can’t say ass?” he asked.

  “Only if you continue to act like one.”

  “Oh. Burn,” Adam replied. “Tell me something, what on earth did I do to deserve you?”

  Her smile was thin-lipped. She looked tense, too. Apparently he’d touched a nerve. That was so satisfying he didn’t know how to keep it hidden. And then he didn’t care. Adam tipped his head slightly, folded his arms, and smiled.

  “I didn’t want this assignment,” she told him.

  “Oh, ho! I’m an assignment now? That’s new. What? You guardian angels get to pick and choose?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “So...you don’t get to pick and choose. You just get whatever is assigned. Got it.”

  “I didn’t say that, either. You wouldn’t understand, and I am not at liberty to divulge. This line of questioning is finished. So. Are we done here?”

  “With what?”

  “My rescue. Your continued life cycle.”

  “Oh. That. Funny, but I didn’t have any trouble continuing a life cycle before you showed up.”

  “Somebody is trying to kill you.”

  “Yeah. You.”

  She probably rolled her eyes. He couldn’t see it. But it was fun to envision.

  “Your motorcycle was sabotaged. Something was wet...no. Wait. It was dampened. A tank slapper thing was portended. Followed by your death. Why else would I be here?”

  Sabotaged?

  His blood turned to ice-water. His heart stopped. A distinct tremor went through his limbs. His voice even trembled when he used it. “Steering dampener?”

  “Oh. Yes. That sounds right.”

  Adam jerked his gaze from her and looked over her head at the darkening sky. Raked a hand through his hair. Blew out a sigh. Tried to absorb a major shock without exhibiting it. He was a thrill-seeker. He did this for a living. He’d assembled a team he’d hand-picked and vetted. He had thousands of fans that hounded him. They claimed to adore him. He wasn’t big enough to attract competition. Sabotage wasn’t feasible. She was wrong.

  He had it figured out before looking back down to her. “You made that up,” he told her.

  “Why would I?”

  “Oh...I don’t know. You tell me.” He winked. And then grinned. It took an act of will to act cocky and make it believable. It was probably stupid. Shouldn’t an angel know?

  “I already don’t like you,” she informed him.

  “Right. I noticed.”

  He couldn’t prevent lowering his gaze. Yep. Those nipples were still tight little nubs. Looked like real goose bumps along her skin, too. And it was a warm California evening. Adam moved his gaze back to her lenses. She’d gone statue-still. The sun was setting, leaving a lot of dusk-filled hues to color everything, including her. It touched on her expression. It was one he couldn’t place. Adam sobered. Cleared his throat.

  “All right. Enough bullshit.”

  “Language,” she replied.

  Adam made a face. “Oh! For the love of—! Fine. Sorry. I’ll try to clean it up. Which is all just crap words when we need to cut to the chase here. Who wants me dead?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? How is that possible? Isn’t that your job?”

  “I am not your conscience, Mister Ballantine.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m using logic. Common sense. You should try it.”

  “Oh. Burn,” Adam replied.

  “You said that once already. What does that mean?”

  “It means your little dart might have hit something.”

  “What little dart?”

  “Alluding to common sense. And me. As in, you believe I don’t have any.”

  “I didn’t say t
hat.”

  Was he offending her? And was there a penalty for that? She did manage to appear confused. If she’d take off the damned glasses he could be sure. No. That could be a major mistake. He was fighting some really amazing vibes here. Major sexual attraction. Gazing into her eyes might tip things. Adam licked his lips. Swallowed. Tried to assemble thoughts.

  “Okay. This is getting a little weird. Even for me.”

  “What is?”

  Adam blew a sigh. “Never mind. Tell me what you meant by logic and common sense.”

  “It stands to reason. If someone wants to do you harm, perhaps you gave them a reason.”

  “Who, me? I’ve rarely harmed a fly.”

  “Really?”

  “Look. It’s an expression. And not entirely accurate. I swat flies all the time. Are you certain you’re not my conscience?”

  “I need to leave you now, Adam Ballantine.”

  Her stoicism was really starting to bother him. He was leery of delving into why. This almost electrical connection to her didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t his type. What was he thinking? She couldn’t even have a type. She was a figment of his imagination. But he still couldn’t resist playing with her.

  “Okay. I’m game. ’Bye. See ya. Hasta la vista, baby. Have a nice flight. Or...whatever.”

  “We have an accord, then?”

  “Sure. You quit messing in my life, and I won’t ever have to see you again. Works for me.”

  She had the slightest change of expression, as if she’d smelled something unpleasant. Adam almost lifted his t-shirt to check his pits just to watch her reaction. It was severely tempting.

  “I need you to take a break from your expressions of puberty.”

  “Expressions of puberty?”

  “Chasing death. It’s the mark of an adolescent.”

  “Wow. That one was pure fire. Direct hit.”

  He pantomimed covering up a chest wound. She didn’t look or sound amused.

  “Farewell, Mister Ballantine. You look well. You sound well. My work here is done.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I feel kind of woozy. I might be suffering shock. I could faint. Fall off this cliff.”

  “Or you might receive another dunking in the ocean.”

  “We’re a mile from shore. Maybe more.”

  She lowered her chin and a moment later, they were about a mile out at sea, hovering above the waves, while Adam stared at the bluff where he’d just been standing. This was unbelievable. Intense. And one hell of a rush.

  “Holy hell! Did you do that?”

  “Language.”

  The word came with a warning as his feet dipped into the water. She lifted him back up. Held him close. She had her arms wrapped about his waist, and he’d been right. She fit perfectly beneath his chin. And his body was enjoying it.

  A lot.

  “H-h-how did you do that?” Damn everything. He stuttered.

  “You are an insufferable man, Adam Ballantine.”

  “Ah. Sounds like I have progressed from puberty. Better watch it. The next thing you know, we’ll be dating.”

  And that’s when she dropped him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jezebel hovered atop the waves. Something was wrong. His dark head wasn’t in sight. Allowing him to perish by her hand would have ramifications. Hellish ones. She wasn’t willing to risk it. Too disastrous.

  Almost as much as continuing contact with him.

  She wasn’t remotely as uninterested as she’d acted. She hadn’t felt this way in centuries. Maybe never. Her body was flushed with some momentous emotion. It contained excitement. A touch of thrill. A hint of the forbidden. She was on edge. Massively intrigued.

  And just as massively scared.

  Even that realization didn’t halt anything. She was fascinated. Interested. And entertained. All of which she’d kept hidden. She was very good at that. She’d had a lot of years to perfect it.

  The situation was fraught with trouble. Each wave whispered it. Jezzie had no difficulty hearing the warnings, but she didn’t dare leave. Not just yet. Not until Adam managed to rescue himself. It would be disconcerting to be near him again. Converse with him. Watch him. And especially touch him.

  But it was Hell if she let him perish.

  Jezebel dove beneath the waves, aimed for the bubbles around Adam as he struggled and twisted, all the while failing to swim upward. She grabbed one of his shoulders, hauled him out of the water, and then had to struggle against an urge to bring him close. Hold him to her. He was wet. So was she. He sucked for air, delineating his physique. The sun had almost set behind her, sending their shadow onto the water beneath them. It had the opposite effect on him. His black shirt was plastered to him, sculpting his shoulders and chest. He’d lost his jacket. She’d lost one of the dark lenses from the eyeglass frame. The other one was cracked. She needed to change things. She really did.

  “Wow. Look at you. You’re even gorgeous when wet,” he remarked.

  Jezzie let go. He dropped back to the ocean, surfaced almost immediately and started paddling, making large movements that highlighted his shoulders even more. And then he went onto his back to look up at her, and that was worse.

  “Now what? I can’t flirt with you, either?”

  Jezzie’s heart flipped. She caught a breath. Both unacceptable occurrences. Extremely rare. And entirely pleasurable.

  “I didn’t...say that.” She tried to sound non-committal. The hitch in her words gave it away.

  “So, you’re saying I can flirt with you?”

  “I didn’t say that either.”

  “Is there any negotiating room in there?”

  “Adam Ballantine.” She tried to use her stoic, reserved tone. It didn’t sound right. It didn’t even sound like her.

  “Damn. You angels are tough. Wait! Wait! The profanity was a slip. Don’t react, okay? Allow me to apologize.”

  “You can swim,” she stated.

  “Well. Yeah. I already proved it this morning. Or...didn’t you notice?”

  An instant recollection of how he’d looked coming from the water came to her. And he called her wet and gorgeous?

  Jezzie quickly looked away. The sky was a shade of dark blue, barely lit with yellow and rose. The view was probably stunning. Without her sunglasses, it still hurt. She narrowed her eyes, and blinked several times. He continued speaking as if nothing much was happening.

  “I was a swimmer in high school. After I grew too tall to be a decent diver, anyway. I still love that. I like to free dive. Makes it...riskier. Danger is always just a heartbeat away. You should see my videos.”

  “Death is...nothing worth chasing, Mister Ballantine.”

  “Darn. I’ve regressed from first name status. Is that a bad sign or what? And here I’m known as a chick magnet. Darn. And drat. And dang. And some more watered-down pseudo-curse words.”

  His comments lifted shivers. Or she was hearing them wrong. There was something behind them. It could be the same spark of interest she felt. The possibility was rampant with an aura of the forbidden. It aroused. Stimulated. And completely excited. Despite the risk.

  Or maybe, because of it.

  Jezebel blanked her expression and looked back down at him. Adam was on his back, just floating, his body rocked by waves. His hands were crossed at his abs, and his feet barely shifted to maintain position.

  “Why aren’t you out of breath?” she asked.

  “You usually get that response from guys, do you?” he asked.

  Jezzie tried to stop the gasp. It didn’t work. And worse. Everything on her body ratcheted into a level of arousal she must have forgotten existed. She couldn’t form words for a reply. That had never happened to her.

  “Never mind. Of course you do,” he continued.

  Emotions flooded her. Pleasure. Amusement. They were chased by all sorts of warnings. Her reply sounded laden with them. “That...is not what I meant.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  “You
were...underwater a long time.”

  “Eh. A minute. Max.”

  “More like two of them.”

  “Well. I just told you I like to free dive. That means I can hold my breath for long periods of time. Two minutes isn’t even a stretch. Besides, I didn’t know you’d stayed around. And I had to get my leathers off. Speaking of - that’s another thousand dollars or so I’m out because of you.”

  “You didn’t need a rescue?”

  “Me? Is that why you’re still here?”

  Jezebel opened her mouth to reply. It was useless. She didn’t know what to say. Or why she was still here. But what came to mind wasn’t his imminent danger.

  It was hers.

  “Well. There’s a conundrum for you. If I say yes, does that mean you’ll continue to hover above me, soaking wet and gorgeous? But if I say no, will that cause you to disappear? Hmm. Can I have a couple of seconds to think about it?”

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Oh. Burn. Again. It’s not obvious? Wow. You sure know how to hit below the belt, lady. I may need to work on my skills.”

  Jezzie almost smiled, but caught the gesture. Her lips still twisted. If he saw it, he probably guessed why. And it might not be dark enough for him not to see it.

  “Well. Listen. I should be going. I’ve got a long swim ahead of me. Guess it’s a good thing there’s a fire truck and all kinds of activity on shore. Gives me something to aim for.”

  “It’s not that far,” she told him.

  “For all I know, it’s shark season, too. I didn’t check ocean conditions. I wasn’t expecting to be out in it. Crazy. I know.”

  “Would you like some help?”

  “To reach shore? Nah. Better not. You’ve got a really cool way of transporting, but it will make it hard to explain. I can’t just instantly appear amidst a bunch of sirens and lights—and what do you know? They’ve even got a press helicopter on scene. The one thing they don’t have is a body. Mine. But, hey. Thanks for the offer. Really.”

  He didn’t turn over or start swimming. He just stayed on his back, swaying back and forth with the waves. Looking up at her. He looked minuscule. Extremely vulnerable.