Until recently, Vince and Sean had been imprisoned together by the Pacifican army. For ten years, Vince refused to divulge the location of a secret portal—a decision that saved many innocent Cascadian lives, branded him a hero, and secured him a place on their elite team of warriors.
But Sean? At the first chance he got, he’d helped the enemy on their mission into Cascadia.
Toryn didn’t trust him. Not by a long shot.
He leaned against the cement barrier and looked out over the city. Street noises wafted up the six stories. The forlorn sound of a boat horn echoed from somewhere out on the dark bay. To the north, the Old Space Needle lit up the night. Although still the city’s iconic symbol, it had been damaged by a massive earthquake many years ago and was no longer safe inside.
Footsteps shuffled behind him, then a bottle of Irish whiskey was thrust in front of him.
“Here.” It was his best friend, Konal. “Need some liquid patience?”
“Patience isn’t my problem.” Toryn grabbed the bottle and knocked back a huge swig. The alcohol burned a welcome path down his throat.
“Says the guy who never relaxes.” Konal jerked his chin at the street below. “Maybe you need to pay a visit to one of the shops for a massage and a happy ending.”
“The thing I don’t understand is why everyone’s so willing to trust what the Professor says,” Toryn said, using Sean’s prison nickname. As far as he was concerned, betrayal was the ultimate trust-killer.
“Because without his intel,” Konal replied, “we wouldn’t have known who funded the last raid into Cascadia.”
“Don’t you find it a wee bit convenient that we got here only to find that the club employs a couple of Psychic-Talent bouncers?” Toryn growled. “So we’re forced to wait for the bloke and hope that he shows up sometime in the next millennia.”
Their original plan had been to wait inside Aphrodistic, a strip club that Reaux owned. Asher and Konal were going to scope out the place first and the rest of them would have followed a few minutes later. But when the first two warriors got to the front of the line, everything went south. One of the thug bouncers turned out to be a Psychic-Talent and came after them, wielding a knife and a really bad attitude.
Depending on how much the Talent had been able to sense, Reaux could very well know that warriors from Cascadia were after him, and he was probably, at this very moment, making arrangements to protect himself even further.
How bloody convenient was that?
Konal grabbed the bottle from Toryn, took a swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s not to love about an excuse to drink with the lads?”
The lads? So Konal trusted the Professor, too. He shoved past his friend.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some air.”
When would these guys realize that you couldn’t blindly put your faith in someone who wanted something in return? In the Professor’s case, his motives were clear. He wanted out of the jail pit, so he was willing to say and do anything to accomplish that. But with some people, their agendas weren’t so obvious. Not until you risked everything only to be betrayed in return.
Toryn had just made it to street level when an entourage of black Towncars sped past, heading in the direction of the club.
Could it be Reaux?
He sprinted down the street just in time to see three vehicles turn the corner toward Aphrodistic. The neon arrow pointing the way originally advertised a gentlemen’s club, only some of the letters had been busted out, so now it read A Gentle Club.
If he hurried, he might be able to see who got out of the cars. If it were Reaux, he’d rush the guy and take him out. Bodyguards be damned. But he hadn’t gotten more than a few steps from the alley when he heard shouts.
Rival gangs? A turf war? He sure as hell didn’t want to get involved in that.
He hesitated as a small hooded figure darted around the corner and headed straight for him. Based on the curves, he guessed a woman. Toryn saw a flash of red hair as she threw a glance behind her.
It looked as if she was running away from someone or something, but he didn’t see any pursuers.
However, if Reaux’s men were onto the warriors, this could be a trap, designed to flush them out. He reached inside his leather jacket and touched the hilt of his blade.
When she was ten feet away, her eyes locked onto his. The panic in her expression was very real, but it quickly turned into determination. She tore off her sweatshirt, threw it behind a trashcan and flung herself into his arms.
“What the bloody hell, woman?”
Her whole body pressed against his. She was soft. And very voluptuous.
“Work with me,” she whispered. “Please.”
Then she pulled his head close and kissed him.
CHAPTER 2
Keely needed to sell this kiss.
She gave it everything she had, which wasn’t too hard given that the stranger she was kissing was smoking hot.
With her mouth pressed to his, she ran her hands up the muscular plane of his chest, over his leather jacket, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He tasted and smelled amazing—like whiskey and mint, one hundred percent male. She’d always been impulsive, but she’d never done anything quite like this before.
At first his mouth had been rigid, but then his lips softened and began to move against hers, his hand slipped into her hair. The guy was actually kissing her back!
Good. It made this all the more believable.
All she had to do was make it seem like she wasn’t the woman her pursuers were after. That woman had been alone and wearing a faded grey sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. This woman wore a blue tank top, had longish red hair that fell past her shoulders, and was engaging in some serious PDA with her boyfriend.
Two totally different people, right? God, she hoped so.
From the corner of her eye, she saw her two pursuers sprint around the corner. They were coming right this way.
For a moment she questioned her split-second decision to stop running and try outsmarting them. She was desperate. She just hoped she hadn’t been too desperate.
After discovering that Becca was missing, Keely had gone from shop to shop, trying to find someone who knew what had happened, but no one had wanted to talk. It was as if she was suddenly a leper and everyone was afraid of catching her disease. People who’d chatted her up a storm before were suddenly too busy. And it wasn’t like she could call the authorities.
But then she’d finally found someone who would talk to her—a guy coming out of Herb Connection carrying a brown paper bag that stank of weed.
“A tall pretty girl? With blondish hair and big—” He’d caught himself before he said tits, and instead held his hands to his chest as if he were squeezing melons.
“Yeah,” Keely had said, dread settling over her like a shroud. “That’s her.”
The man told her how he’d seen her get into a limo with Mr. Reaux outside the shop.
“You’re sure it was him?”
He’d nodded, said he’d seen the man many times at the dive strip club he owned.
Maybe she should’ve waited and come up with some sort of plan first, but she couldn’t stand the thought of Becca spending one night with that scumbag. Especially when it was Keely’s fault that the money hadn’t been there on time. When she’d shown up at Aphrodistic asking about Becca, one of the bouncers had ushered her into a dimly lit back room. She’d known she was screwed when she heard the lock engage. Thankfully, he hadn’t thought to check the window.
Acutely aware of how high the stakes were, she kissed the stranger with even more intensity. She couldn’t let those men from the club, those thugs, get ahold of her, otherwise where would that leave Becca? It wouldn’t do either of them any good if they were both being held against their will. Plus, this was all her fault. She needed to make this kiss work.
Hitching a knee, she hooked her leg around the man’s hip. It shocked the hell
out of her when he cupped his hands under her butt and pulled her other leg up, wrapping them both around his waist.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his low, rough voice reverberating through her body like a tuning fork.
Her pursuers drew closer. She could feel them looking in this direction. Instinctively, she put up a mental shield, sending invisible jolts of electricity racing down her arms.
The stranger’s body shifted slightly.
He hadn’t felt that, had he? No, he was reaching for something.
Without breaking the kiss, he turned them so that her back was against the wall. His large frame now stood between her and those men.
Was he protecting her?
Something flashed close to her face.
He had a knife!
Panic and confusion shot through her.
“Shhh. This isn’t for you.” He ran a thumb over the pulse point on her neck.
His touch was intoxicating and she felt herself relax, although she didn’t drop her guard. Almost immediately, he hauled her closer and deepened the kiss, stroking his hand through her hair. He pressed her mouth wider and slipped his tongue inside, acting as if she was his to take. Heat seared through her and desire pooled low in her belly.
Oh God. What was going on? This was all just for show, and yet it felt so…real.
Her heart pounded furiously as the two men jogged past them on the sidewalk, not more than a few feet away. She couldn’t tell if her physical reaction was entirely because of them or this darkly compelling man she was kissing.
The moment her pursuers disappeared around the corner, the man took a step backwards and released her. The blade he’d held a moment ago was gone. She disentangled herself, feeling suddenly awkward.
As much as she’d like to duck her head and leave, she knew he deserved some sort of explanation, even if she couldn’t tell him the truth.
Now that she was staring up at him from a distance greater than the length of an eyelash, her breath caught in her throat. He stood a good head taller than her, with sleek raven hair pulled into a low bun, warm olive skin and the most intense gray eyes she’d ever seen. He wore a black leather jacket, a plaid shirt underneath, low-slung jeans and black boots with thick soles. If someone were to ask her what two plus two was right now, she’d probably tell them her middle name.
“Um…thanks. I really appreciate…what you did.” Sure, he’d just saved her ass, but that was, quite possibly, the most amazing kiss in the history of the world.
“What the hell was that?” he asked, frowning.
It felt as if the balloon she was holding onto had just been popped. He was pissed. She searched his starkly handsome face. Yeah, definitely angry. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d ticked off someone with her impulsiveness. Besides, what kind of chick goes around kissing strange men without so much as a hello, anyway?
She opened her mouth to explain herself, but then it hit her. It didn’t matter what this man thought of her. He could be pissed. Think of her as a slut. Or a freak. A slutty freak. Whatever. Her sister had been kidnapped and she had no idea what she was going to do. Going to the club was the only thing she could think of, and still it wasn’t enough. In fact, it had almost turned the situation into an even bigger disaster.
When she didn’t answer right away, the man led her into a nearby alley, then turned her to face him, his hands cupping her elbows. “Tell me what just happened. And I want the truth.”
“Would you believe me if I said I was overcome by how hot you were and I just couldn’t help myself?”
“Then would you believe me if I told you I lived in the penthouse at the top of the Space Needle?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
She thought it was a rhetorical question, but he was waiting for her answer.
“Uh…no.”
He leaned in close. “Don’t pull that crap on me, Kitten.”
She flinched at his harsh tone, drew her arms close to her body and balled her hands into fists.
He took a step back, a flash of remorse on his face. “Why were you running?” When she didn’t answer right away, he reached forward and twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. “Tell me,” he urged softly.
Her bare arms were cold where he’d been touching her. She almost wished he was pissed off again because at least she knew how to deal with that, but concern? From a total stranger? It pierced through her defenses like anger never could, and she felt the sudden, idiotic urge to cry.
Which would be stupid. Very stupid.
She absently twisted the rings on her hands. “I’m fine. Thanks for your help. Those men were after me, that’s all.”
“Yes, but why?”
She shrugged, not wanting to explain any further if she didn’t have to. Even though they were in the Circus District, she didn’t dare say anything that would tip him off that she was a Talent. She wasn’t feeling up to seeing the revulsion in his eyes. She’d experienced enough of that today.
“Did you steal something?”
Her head snapped up. “For Pete’s sake, no! I’m not a thief.”
A smile teased the corners of his lips. “Okay, I didn’t think so, Kitten.”
“Good,” she said angrily. “And don’t call me that. It’s annoying.”
“Then what should I call you? Red?”
“Ugh. That’s worse.”
She considered giving him a fake name, like she and her sister often did when guys would hit on them in a club.
“Tonight, I’m going to be your cousin Mandy visiting from Portland.”
“Okay, and I’ll be Janna. Our wealthy grandfather just died and left us millions, including his private jet.”
“No, then they’ll want us to pick up the tab.”
“Oh, good point. How about you came up here because Gramps died, and they’re going to be reading the will tomorrow? We don’t know yet whether we’ll be wealthy or not.”
“Perfect. It’s interesting, gives us lots to talk about, but it’s not too far-fetched.”
The truth was, she and Becca had more fun creating the pretend backstories than actually using them. More often than not, they just used the names.
Her heart grew heavy at the thought of her sister. And for some reason, she didn’t want to lie to this man. At least not about something as trivial as her name.
“I’m Keely.”
He cocked his head slightly and nodded thoughtfully.
Wait. He didn’t recognize the name, did he? Recognize that she was Bernard Weber’s daughter? Was he nodding because it confirmed his suspicions? First there was Cole on the street corner who had recognized her, and now…this.
“Keely,” he repeated, as if trying out her name on his lips. Her heart sped up just a touch. “I’m Toryn.” His smile was genuine, but hesitant, as if he didn’t do it much.
Her paranoia disappeared. He didn’t know who she was.
But now she felt awkward again. Had she really just made out with this man? Because, seriously. He was So. Freaking. Hot.
A cool breeze from the bay blew through the alley, making her suddenly aware that she was no longer wearing her sweatshirt. Adrenaline and nerves had made her forget. “Thanks for…um…everything.” The air had also blown some sense into her. It was time to go. Get back to the shop. Figure out what to do about Becca. She flipped her hand up, giving a little wave. “I’ll…uh…catch you later.”
He stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. Then he took off his leather jacket and held it out. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Thanks, but I’m good,” she said, declining both the jacket and the offer. “I walked and I don’t live far.”
“Well,” he said, draping his jacket over her shoulders anyway. “You are not walking home alone.”
She really should continue to protest. But the coat was so warm. And, if she were being honest with herself, she liked how the man’s protectiveness made her feel. Saf
e. Less alone.
She hadn’t realized just how chilled to the bone she was until now. Pulling the lapel tightly around her neck, she took a deep breath of the leather.
Mmmm. It smelled like him.
She thought about what she would she say to him when they got to her shop. How would she explain it? One look and he would know she was a Talent. That he’d kissed a freak.
And she wasn’t sure she could handle that right now. Not from this man.
***
A range of emotions tore through Toryn as he looked down at the petite, curvy woman who’d been in his arms a moment ago. Thick strands of red hair spilled over her shoulders, now covered by his leather coat. Various piercings studded her ears, and she had a smaller stud in her right nostril. Her cheeks were flushed, lips red—not from lipstick but from that…kiss.
Holy Fates. Could that kiss have been any hotter? If she weren’t in front of him right now, he might have thought he’d dreamt the whole thing.
Hazel eyes flecked with green and gold stared up at him unblinking, as if daring him to challenge her. Like she was expecting blowback from him and was ready to take him on.
Even while being chased by two thugs, this woman had been able to think on her feet, concoct a plan in an instant, and execute it perfectly. He respected the hell out of anyone who could do that.
When he wrapped his coat around her, he’d caught a glimpse of a butterfly tattoo peeking out from under the strap of her tank top. He’d wanted to run a finger underneath the strap and push it aside to see the whole design.
The woman was beautiful. Stunningly so. With an edge to her that said you either accepted her for who she was or you got out of her way. He was drawn to her strength, found it incredibly attractive.
And distracting as hell.
He had work to do. Needed to get back to the stakeout. He’d been gone long enough, and the other warriors were probably wondering where the hell he was. He needed to tell them about the Towncars. Reaux might be at the club now.
With the back of his hand, he rubbed off the taste of her kiss from his mouth. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman if a simple kiss could get to him like this.
Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Page 72