by T. F. Walsh
“I-I don’t know.” Argus clocked her in the side of the head with the firearm. Bebe flinched, a stream of blood trailing down her cheek. He struck her a second time, and the bartender crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Argus peered down at the blonde, his appetite whetted. He pushed off the stool, the gun hanging loose at his side, then swiveled to face the dim club’s neon glow. “Show your face, Scion pussy.”
His gaze honed in on a darkened corner. Argus sniffed the air, scenting his prey. “Which one’d the bitch send this time? Xander again?”
“Nah, Xander had better things to do.” A deep chuckle resounded out of the dark. “Like wipe his ass.”
Argus inched closer and squinted. “Funny Scion. How ’bout we get this party started? Here, I’ll go first.”
He pointed his gun blindly at the crowd and fired. The bullet struck one of the college guys in the neck. Argus laughed as the kid slumped to the floor, his blood spurting in time with his pulse. Argus snatched a pack of cigarettes from the hand of a stunned patron and lit up as his victim’s life drained away.
• • •
Kagan shifted in his seat, managing with effort to keep a struggling Mira shielded behind him. “Keep still and I’ll protect you, I swear. Just stay behind me.”
At his words, Mira dug her nails deep into his abdomen. “Let me out of here, you damned caveman. I can help.”
The demon waddled closer, his lit cigarette giving away his position better than a spotlight. Argus always was the king of non-stealth. Kagan finished his beer, maintaining rigid calm. “You’ve killed an innocent, cazzo. Now I’ll have to torture you as well as kill you … Argus.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Scion. C’mon out and play, girlie. Papa needs some love.” Argus took a last drag off the cigarette before crushing it underfoot.
Kagan eased the Glock from his pocket, keeping it concealed as the demon approached. One of Argus’s bullets was spent on the poor kid on the floor and one nestled in the phone. The Walther could hold up to ten more rounds. He had no idea how many were left. Foremost in his thoughts was the fact trigger-happy Argus hadn’t fired on him yet, and Kagan needed him to waste ammo. “You keep coming this way, stronzo, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re begging for.”
“Whatever you want, Scion.” Argus aimed the gun in Kagan’s direction and fired twice. He continued to press the trigger but nothing happened, only an empty click.
Kagan absorbed the impact of the bullets, pain exploding as his right shoulder joint shattered. Merda! His shooting arm. The Glock clattered from his useless fingers to land beneath the table.
Warm blood oozed down his side to meet the girl’s hands, now dug deep into his waist. He coughed and reached with his good arm for his second firearm, sharp shocks of agony cascading through his torso. Teeth clenched, he subverted the pain and focused on the footsteps approaching. At least the bastard was out of ammo.
Argus leaned forward to get a better look at the damage he’d wrought. “Well, well. Kagan! Been a long time. Surprised the bitch picked you to come. No accounting for taste, I guess.”
He peered into the shadows behind Kagan while he released the gun’s empty magazine and shoved a new one in place. “Shit, boy, you didn’t think I’d take a weapon without plenty of ammo, did you?” He sneered at Kagan’s pained grimace. “Aw, you did.”
The demon stepped away from the booth and shrugged. “Never took you for a fool. Guess I was wrong.” He aimed the still-warm barrel against Kagan’s temple. “You ready to die, fucker?”
“You first.” Kagan fired once from beneath the table, adjusting to his left-handed grip, and caught Argus in the thigh. When the demon stumbled, Kagan raised the Glock and fired four more shots into his heart. Argus fell backward, landing in a heap next to the kid he’d murdered. Kagan quirked a brow at the irony and returned the gun to his pocket. “Should keep you down a while, segaiolo.”
Kagan slid out of the booth, gritting his teeth when the motion tore open the healing injury at his shoulder. His nose wrinkled as he stepped over Argus’s body. The combination of demon and human blood mixed to create a foul odor that reeked to eternity. He waggled his fingers for Mira when she hesitated to join him. “C’mon, Mira, we need to get out of here.”
“I don’t remember telling you my name,” Mira said, her tone suspicious. Then her gaze fell to the two corpses and her eyes widened, locked on Argus’s face.
Kagan recognized the signs of shock in the girl’s blanched features. He reached into the shadows, yanked her free, and clamped an arm around her waist. “Later. Now hold on and shut your eyes.” Mira opened her mouth, but Kagan held up a hand. “Don’t argue, dammit.”
She threw her arms around him so hard he swayed, blood loss making him unsteady. He managed to stay upright by sheer force of will. Che palle! I’m returning the donna ingrata to Divinity at first opportunity!
Kagan gave the crowd a psychic suggestion, altering their memory of the shooting. His silent plea for patience went unanswered as Mira continued to fidget in his embrace, and he wished his abilities included mind control. No such luck.
“Shut your eyes.” Exhaustion laced his tone. Mira stuck out her tongue. Kagan gave up the fight. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
A bright light flashed, and Mira’s screams echoed as the world fell away.
• • •
Pure chaos howled from every direction. Mira squeezed her eyes shut, her arms locked tight around her abductor. Pulled in twenty directions at once, all sense of equilibrium lost, she refused to release her grip. Then, as fast as the maelstrom started, it ended. Her feet touched down on solid earth. The world continued to spin in nauseating circles and she burrowed closer to Kagan, seeking stability. Dammit! I will not toss my cookies in front of this guy!
He pried her stiff fingers from his waist, his deep chuckle resounding through her thumping skull. “We’re here, piccola. You can let go now.”
Mira opened her eyes. The glass-lined wall opposite her offered a panoramic view of the Chicago skyline. Kagan cleared his throat, drawing attention to the fact she was still huddled against him. She jumped away. Kagan shrugged out of his jacket to reveal two holes in his shirt near his right shoulder. Tan skin winked from beneath as he moved about. The right side of his discarded coat was soaked with blood, which explained the red splotches on her clothes. Yet he didn’t show any outward signs of pain, his face stoic and his actions fluid. Weird.
Kagan turned to face her again and Mira’s lowered gaze snagged on the bulge of his crotch. A second throat clearing brought her eyes flying to his. Did he catch that? Yeah, considering the shit-eating grin on his face, he did.
“If you’re done checking out the equipment, then we have things to discuss.” His smile increased in direct proportion to the heat in her cheeks. She approached, tingles dancing a jig in her stomach and her Bitchy Meter hovering at Critical.
“Okay, let’s get one thing straight.” She poked a finger into his chest. “I wasn’t ‘checking out’ any equipment.” Her words were accented by air quotes. “Not like you should be surprised anyway, when you parade around in jeans molded to your … ” She trailed off, her breath hitched. Shit!
“Si. To my what?” He surveyed himself then shot her an amused glance, his head tilted to the side.
Mira paced, her hands flying as she spoke. “You show up out of nowhere, stalk me, kidnap me, and now you’ve taken me God knows where for whatever kink you have planned. Hate to disappoint you, jackass, but you got the wrong perspective on this whole deal. And ‘we’ don’t have anything to discuss, understand? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home.”
She darted around him, but he grabbed her arm. “Si, that’d be nice, except you’re not going anywhere. Not tonight.”
Mira wrested her arm free and caught his momentary cring
e, though his grip remained firm. “Dammit! How badly are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” He released her to pull a bottle out of the fridge and waved it in the air. “Want one?”
She made a face. “No, I hate beer. What I want is to go home.”
“Not going to happen, Mira.” He coughed, his right arm held tight to his side. “You’re stuck here. At least for tonight.”
He grabbed a bottle of water instead and cracked the lid open before handing it to her. After a thorough inspection, Mira took a tentative sip. Her first drink soon turned into large, unladylike gulps, an attempt to slack her sudden, unquenchable thirst. Ignoring the curious stare of her unanticipated host, she moved away from the kitchen area to explore the rest of the apartment, still maintaining a watchful eye on the front door.
In keeping with the warehouse theme, everything was sparse, industrial. The black leather furniture and paint smelled new. She squinted at the back of the coffee table. Is that a price tag? It was time for some answers.
She located him with his back to the skyline view, watching her. “Who are you?”
“I was sent here to protect something.” His eyes narrowed as he raised his beer.
Mira met his direct gaze. “You think I have this thing you’re protecting?”
They stared at each other from across the room. A standoff minus the guns. He was the first to look away, handing her the small victory. Lips pursed and head bowed, he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re what I’m protecting, Mira.”
She blinked, mouth open. Mira took one last swig of water then placed the bottle down with a muffled thud. She pasted on a smile. Time to get the hell out of crazy town! “Well, this has been fun!”
Mira dashed for the exit. Her hand closed around the knob, too late. His massive body pressed her against the door, preventing escape. Panic squeezed the air from her lungs. Hot fingers of dread forced her racing heart into overdrive.
“You can’t keep me here,” Mira said, her speech rushed. “I’ll find a way out. And then I’ll call the police on your psycho ass!”
He shifted, his chin brushing the top of her head before his cheek came to rest near her temple, his lips tickling the crest of her ear as he spoke. His low chuckle bumped along her synapses, creating a discombobulating rush of excitement through her nerves. “Good girl, Mira. Your spirit will keep you alive.”
His cologne, vanilla and sandalwood and some other indefinable scent, enveloped her. Kagan’s warm breath fanned her cheek and his heat radiated into her back. Her body began to respond despite the danger — or maybe because of it — and her eyes slid closed in desperation. She fought to regain control, her voice tight with constricted emotion. “You have no idea what I’ve done to survive.”
Mira dropped her forehead to the cool metal door. She took a deep breath. He curved closer and her buttocks brushed against his pelvis. The growing ridge in his jeans signaled his mutual interest. Mira resisted the crazy urge to collapse into his strength, to let him take her burden.
“Those skills will serve you well, piccola.” His lips brushed her temple and her senses, too long deprived, ceded the battle before it was even waged.
• • •
Kagan pressed closer into Mira’s soft curves, one hand braced on the door beside her head, the other covering hers on the knob. His warrior instincts screamed for him to pull back at her surrender, yet his body folded further around hers. Her fragrance surrounded him, spicy-sweet and exotic. His traitorous cock continued to respond to the enticement of warm, soft female pressed close and he stifled a groan. Kagan fought to master his errant desire, his fist slamming against the metal door. She froze beneath him. He did not lose control like this. Ever.
He exhaled and the moist air ghosted her heated flesh, rewarding him with her shiver. Kagan couldn’t resist one last press of his hips into her soft backside, a last scent of her hair before he whispered in her ear, “Please sit and I’ll answer your questions as best I can, si?”
She gave a brief nod and he allowed her enough space to move away. He tracked her movement to the kitchen table where she sank into a chair. Her hands trembled when she reached for her water. She looked as shaken as he felt. Kagan gazed skyward, thankful for the distance. He didn’t trust himself to leave her alone if she’d stayed close. Dai! Too long without a woman. That must be the explanation.
He turned the lock and pulled his shirt from his jeans to camouflage his rampant erection. Cristo! He’d not been this randy since his Roman youth. He grabbed his beer and straddled the chair across from hers.
She continued to fiddle with her water, refusing to look at him. Finally, she plunked the bottle down on the table and fixed him with a determined stare. “Tell me how you knew my name. And then explain to me why you’re not dead or in an ER somewhere.”
He eyed her. She was as restless as wary prey. He noted both the glint of irritation in her eyes and the dark circles beneath them. Tired and bitchy. Never a good combination. Kagan flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and took a deep breath. “I know your name, Mira, because of the mission.” He continued when she didn’t answer. “To protect you.”
She crossed her arms. “You said that before. What exactly are you protecting me from?”
Kagan shook his head. “Not what. Who.”
“The man at the club?”
“And anybody else who makes a play for the Se — ” Kagan coughed. “You.”
Her brow furrowed. “How do you know him?”
“We have … history.” He took another swig of beer. Mira shuddered and his gaze narrowed. Had he mistaken her reaction as shock? Could it have been something else? His warrior instincts went haywire. No way was she familiar with Argus, but what about his host? “Why?”
She covered a second shudder with a shrug. “The man you killed. We have history, too.” Mira took a long drink of water then snorted. “You don’t have to worry about anybody ‘making a play.’” Again with the air quotes. Kagan was beginning to find her gestures oddly … endearing. “I’m not winning any beauty pageants with this look.”
In seconds, Kagan’s brain switched from suspicious warrior to aroused male. Despite her ravaged shirt, he found nothing off-target. He remembered the way her soft curves had pressed into him at the door and knew nothing was amiss with the concealed parts, either. His crotch tightened anew. He shifted to safer realms.
“What’s wrong with you? Besides, they aren’t coming for your body. They’re after what’s inside.”
“What do you mean, what’s inside?” Mira scanned the rest of the room. “Is this Alien Abductions, because there’s nothing inside me.”
Kagan checked his watch. So much for a quick mission. “You’re going to have to trust me for now. My commander will explain things better when he gets here. All I can tell you is I won’t hurt you, and I will protect you. With my life, if necessary.”
“Which returns us to my question. Why the hell aren’t you dead or at least seriously incapacitated? From the holes in your shirt, it looks like you were shot. Twice.”
He shrugged, playing it off. “I’m … different.”
“Different?” She looked at him like he was full of shit.
Kagan considered the Kevlar vest ploy and abandoned it. Wouldn’t work now, not after he’d pressed so close to her. Now, he had nothing. Too tired to think up an elaborate lie, he went with a half-truth instead. “I don’t injure as easily as other people and when I’m hurt, I heal faster.”
Mira eyed the holes in his shirt. “Yeah. A whole lot faster.”
She slumped in her chair and rubbed her eyes. It was well past ten. Time to wrap up this disaster of an evening so they could both move on.
“Look, Mira, your apartment’s not safe tonight. I can’t be sure he’s working alone. So your choice tonight is me or some unknown psycho
killer.” Kagan grinned, lobbing his empty beer bottle toward the trashcan across the room to sink a perfect three-pointer. He waggled his eyebrows and her lips quirked. “Personally, I think I’m much better looking, and I generally don’t smell like sulfur or rancid meat.”
Mira rolled her eyes and gave him a thumbs-up. “Good to know.”
Kagan laughed. Mira shook her head and fiddled with her blood-stained shirt. He walked to the bedroom, pulled out a clean white tee, and tossed it to her. She caught the bundle one-handed. “Bathroom’s over there.”
• • •
Mira leaned against the bathroom door and squeezed her eyes shut. Her day had started out so normal. Well, normal for her anyway. Now two people had been murdered and she was a witness, or had been until Conan out there whisked her from the scene. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Zoe’s text message flashed onto the screen. Where are you?
Thumbs flying over the virtual keyboard, Mira typed in her response. I’m okay. Stay in your apartment until I contact you tomorrow. She undressed and flipped on the shower while she waited for the response to come through. Not two minutes later, the phone rumbled on the counter and she read her friend’s response. Don’t worry. Not budging!
After tossing the phone back onto the counter, she stepped inside the steamy shower stall. The hot water washed the carnage from her body, and Mira’s muscles began to relax. What happened after she and Kagan had disappeared? There’d been so much blood. And the smell. Her stomach lurched.
Body limp, Mira rested her forehead against the slick tile and longed to surrender to the riptide of fatigue threatening to drowned her spirit. She was beyond exhausted, yet her mind continued to vomit images of the bodies at the club. McClaine’s bloated body and his face burned into her psyche for eternity, his expression smarmy even in death. Her legs buckled and she sagged to the wet tile floor, sobbing beneath the steam, her emotions raw.