Immune: A Sexy Urban Fantasy Mystery (Rylee Adamson # 2)

by Mayer, Shannon

  Alex frowned up at me. “Evie come?”

  “No, Eve can’t come. I can’t hide a Harpy.”

  She sat back and preened her feathers. They’d gone from a greasy brown to a glistening sable and tan with a little extra care. “You are my mentor. I should come with you. To help, and to learn.”

  I held back a groan, teeth clenched. “I can’t hide you, Eve. You’re too big.” I rubbed my hands over my face, the air around me crackling with cold. “Listen, I have to go to New Mexico after my salvage. You could go ahead of me, stay with my friend Dox until I get there. Can you do that?”

  She paused in her grooming. “I can fly quickly. I can be there in no time.”

  Okay, that was one problem dealt with. What I would do with her once I got to New Mexico was beyond me, but at least Milly wouldn’t be doing anything drastic. I put a hand over my eyes; the only thing that would make this day worse would be O’Shea showing up to see Milly. I didn’t think I was ready yet to watch them play kissy face.

  The sound of a vehicle pulling into the yard jerked my head up. I peeked out the barn door to see O’Shea step out of a black SUV. Damn, I just had to think of the worst-case scenario, didn’t I?

  Dressed as a typical FBI agent, he wore a dark suit under a long black trench coat, sunglasses and with his raven-coloured hair slicked back. Man in black and all that jazz. Not so typical in that he was one of a very few people that knew the supernatural existed, I mean, truly ‘I believe in dragons’ kind of knew.

  “Shit.”

  Alex peeked out the crack in the door below me. “Man with gun.”

  “Yes, now shush.”

  I should have been prepping to leave, should have been piling my gear into the Jeep and peeling out of here. But O’Shea was walking up the steps and knocking on the door. A terrible, masochistic side of me wanted to see them together. Only then would it be real, only then could I—maybe—let go of this silly hope he might have more than professional feelings for me. Stupid, I know.

  Milly came to the door, still in her robe, which gaped open completely with a gust of wind; even I could see her bare breasts — there was no way he’d miss them at that range.

  “Nipples.” Alex muttered.

  Good grief, no man was safe from her charms.

  I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Milly leaned over, pressing herself against O’Shea before pointing to the barn. He glanced over his shoulder and I pulled back from the door.

  “Time to go,” I said. So there, I’d seen them together. I knew they’d seen each other over the last week. Milly had said it was for coffee, but that was just one of her many code words for sex. It didn’t bother me. Nope, not one bit.

  Alex bunted his head into my hand, “Rylee sad.”

  A single deep breath. “Nope. Not sad.” I scratched him behind one floppy ear. “We’ve got to go now. Eve . . .” I turned to see her head nearly on the ground, large blobs of moisture gathered in the corner of her eyes.

  A crying Harpy? I did not have time for this! Doing my best to keep my voice even, I asked, “What’s wrong, Eve?”

  “You do not want me now, I am a burden.”

  The barn door creaked open and a swirl of cold air and snow whipped in.

  “Adamson, we’ve got a problem.”

  “Damn, just add it to the pile,” I snapped, striding over to Eve, softening my voice. “Listen, I do want you with me, but do you really want to wear this?” I pulled the large bracelet out of my pocket. “It’s just like Alex’s collar, you wouldn’t be seen for what you truly are; in fact, it would actually change you, making you small enough to ride in the Jeep with me.”

  She recoiled as if I’d slapped her, wings going wide as she scrambled away from me, knocking over bales of hay and generally making a ruckus that could probably be heard back at the house. I waited for her to settle down, my hands on my hips.

  “You would spell me!”

  Shaking my head, I answered her. “No, that’s why I didn’t suggest this. It’s why I would prefer you would go ahead of me to wait for us. That’s it.”

  Alex sat between us and flopped a wave at O’Shea. “Hi ho. Alex going for car ride.” He grinned, tongue lolling out between his teeth.

  “Where are you going? Milly wouldn’t tell me.” O’Shea asked, coming to stand beside me. I could smell him, even over the hay and dust of the barn. His cologne tickled my nose and made me want to bury my face into the crook of his neck. I glanced over and it was as if the cold wind from outside snuck in and whipped up my spine. “You’ve got lipstick on you.”

  He grunted, lifted a hand to the small bare patch of skin on his neck, and wiped off the stain but said nothing about it. Fine. I could pretend like I didn’t care too.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Shifting away from him, I blew out a breath. “Because right now I’m dealing with a rather more pressing issue.” I pointed at the Harpy who was all but cowering in the corner. It was so easy to forget that while she was huge and could kill with ease, she was still a child; she still needed the basics: love, attention, care.

  “Eve, the only way you can come with me right now is if you wear this.” I held the gold bracelet up again and she hissed at me. “If you don’t want to come, that’s fine. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. You can go ahead on your own to meet me.”

  I laid the bracelet on the ground. “You remember where I’m going?” She bobbed her head.

  “You would let me decide?”

  “Yes. Either way is fine. Just leave when I leave.”

  O’Shea touched my arm, tugging lightly on my leather jacket. “We need to talk.”

  “We can talk here.”

  “I don’t want an audience.” Like a werewolf and a Harpy would have anyone to spill their guts to. Still, I followed him out of the barn, albeit reluctantly. As the door shut behind us, he stepped so close he was in my personal space—as in our bodies were brushing up against one another. In the past, he’d used this trick for intimidation, but it didn’t feel like that was the case now. I moved back and he followed until my back was pressed against the wooden boards of the barn.

  “Hey, mind giving me some room here?”

  “No, we need to talk. You’ve been avoiding me and Agent Valley. He wants an answer. He needs to know if you will work for him. The AA division could use you; they’re floundering trying to play catch up with the supernatural.”

  I couldn’t stop the words, they slipped out before my filter kicked in. “And what do you want?”

  The cold, wind, and world seemed to disappear around us. All I could see was his midnight dark eyes, the line of his jaw and lips. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “I want . . .”

  Alex took that moment to burst out of the barn, spinning as he chased his tail. Before we could move, he rammed into our legs, knocking us both to the ground. That’s what I get for letting myself be distracted.

  The ground was frozen, hard, basically unforgiving. And it hurt like hell when my back slammed into it, O’Shea landing on top of me. The air rushed out of me in a whoosh, the weight of O’Shea not helping one bit.

  “Off,” I managed. O’Shea did a push up over my body and stood, then offered me a hand.

  I lay there waiting for my lungs to reconnect with my brain. Finally, I was able to suck in a breath of cold air that burned its way down my throat. Ignoring O’Shea’s outstretched hand, I rolled to my knees, then stood.

  Alex was already at my Jeep, hopping and jumping in his excitement, claws digging into the paint as he worked at popping the handle open. It was hard for me to get mad at him; he didn’t mean any harm. Milly’s words came back to me. A part of me knew she was right; it would take a seemingly harmless bite from Alex and Milly would be turning fuzzy, maybe on a permanent basis. The other part of me wanted to smack her upside the head. She was the best goddamn witch around and she was afraid of one silly, submissive werewolf? Something was way off
with her; I just had to figure out what. Add it to the list of problems.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” O’Shea asked, holding out a polished coin to me. “They look dark and brooding. Are you going on a salvage?”

  Ah, if only it were as simple as returning a child home. I lied, hating to do so. As much as I had only moments before been considering his help, I knew my mind would only be thinking about him and Milly in bed. Nope, not a good place for the psyche when on a salvage.

  “No. Not today.”

  I walked toward the root cellar. The entranceway was at the back of the house. Flakes of snow drifted down, the first of the year. It was later than usual. Maybe global warming, but more likely some damn weather elemental had its knickers in a knot.

  “Adamson.”

  My shoulders tightened when he used my surname. It was the only thing I had left from my past, from parents who didn’t want me and a little sister I was accused of murdering.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  His footsteps faltered. I slid the bar back on the old root cellar and flung the doors open. Dug out under the house, the cellar was a cool dry place, perfect to keep weapons and gear clean and ready for use. After trotting down the cement stairs, I breathed in deep. There was still the faint scent of smoke from the Black Coven trying to kill me and Alex, but there was also the hint of onions and some other vegetable I couldn’t identify from the previous use of the area.

  I flicked a switch screwed onto an old piling that held the house up, and light flooded the room. With precise movements, I piled up the things I would need. Swords, blades, rope, flak jacket, first aid, and finally a coiled whip I’d only just added to my list of weapons.

  O’Shea ducked his head in and frowned. “You have everything you need?”

  The sarcasm in his voice was not lost on me. “Nope, forgot this.” I held up a black box that held a bunch of ready-made spells—courtesy of Milly—that was locked tight.

  “And that is?”

  “None of your business.” I brushed past him with my gear, made my way to my Jeep, piled it in, then went back and shut the cellar up. O’Shea hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Rylee.”

  My name on his lips stopped me in my tracks. I lifted my eyes to his, tried to figure out what was going on behind those nearly black eyes. What did he really think about me now? Or had his opinion not changed?

  “What happened? I thought we’d moved past these games,” he said. “I thought you would want to work with me, finding kids, helping them get home.”

  I couldn’t tell him the truth—that I wanted nothing more than to jump him, strip his clothes from his hard body, and taste every inch of him. Which of course had nothing to do with finding kids, not one bit. Never mind; he’d already chosen Milly. No need for me to rub salt in my own wounds. So I told him the other truth, the one that separated us as much, or more than Milly did.

  “You do things the right way. By the book. I can’t, not in this world.” I lifted my hands over my head. “If I did everything by the book I’d be dead by now. If Giselle had gone by the book and put me in foster care, if she hadn’t taught me to fight, how to use a blade, how to hone my skills, I’d be dead a hundred times over. You can’t tell me the FBI is going to welcome in a rogue like me. Not truly. And the first time I fuck up.” I snapped my fingers, the meaning clear, but I said it anyway. “I’m done.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. And now I have to go.” Spinning on one heel, I strode to the Jeep, and let Alex in. He clambered up, all but vibrating with excitement.

  “At least tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.” I could hear the anger under the words; he was barely holding it in. He was trying, and I wished to hell I could take him up on his offer.

  Oh, how I wanted to believe him, how I wanted to think he would be that man in my life, someone I could depend on. But, I couldn’t, and I knew it.

  Turning my back on him I slid into the Jeep. “It’s none of your concern, O’Shea.” And slammed the door shut.

  3

  None of his concern? O’Shea watched Rylee pull away, Alex bouncing like mad in the passenger seat. Slipping his sunglasses back on, he made his way around the side of the house and knocked on the front door.

  Milly, Rylee’s friend, came to the door, opening it up wide. She was still wearing her skimpy robe, her long dark hair dishevelled. It looked as though she’d just stepped off a porn set.

  “Well, Mr. Agent man, you came back for what exactly?” Her words all but purred out, dripping with a sexual fever that perhaps in another time, he would have welcomed. As it was, he cleared his throat and kept his eyes on her face.

  “Where is she going?”

  Milly pouted, reached out and tugged on his tie. “If you come in, maybe I’ll tell you. You know, we only ever got to chat that one time, and you were in such a hurry that you ran off before I got to know you at all. It’s funny; In all these years, Rylee never mentioned you were such a handsome man. She only ever complained that you were an asshole trying to pin charges on her. I have to say, I was surprised—pleasantly—when we met.”

  He clenched his jaw, and his anger surged, partly at Milly, partly at Rylee’s assessment of him. “Tell me where she’s going.”

  A frail hand appeared from behind Milly, and the door cracked open further to reveal a woman who looked to be in her late eighties by the way she was partially slumped over and the pallor of her skin, but he didn’t think that was the case. Brown eyes narrowed, taking him in.

  “You are looking for our Rylee?”

  Milly snorted, folded her arms across her chest and waved at the older woman. “This is Giselle. Sometimes mad, sometimes lucid. Rescuer of forgotten children.”

  “Don’t sass me, Milly. I can still spank your bottom if you give me grief.”

  Milly seemed to fight back a smile at the older woman’s reprimand, and O’Shea liked her better for it. As far as he’d seen, Rylee was a far better friend to Milly than the other way around, which didn’t leave the sultry witch many redeeming qualities in his eyes.

  Giselle reached out and took his hand, pulling him into the house. “Come, let me have a look at you.”

  A shiver slid over him as her fingers grasped his with a strength that surprised him and confirmed she wasn’t as old as she looked. Her eyes narrowed and she took in a short sharp breath through her nose that whistled. That wasn’t what freaked him out though. It was the sound of voices that began to whisper around him.

  “Tell him.”

  He swallowed hard. The world he’d known was disappearing faster than he was truly comfortable with. “Tell me what?”

  Both Giselle and Milly started as if they’d been pinched at the same time. Milly stepped forward, her face devoid of any sexual machinations, and green eyes wide with surprise.

  “You heard them?”

  Giselle started to chuckle. “Oooo eeee. Rylee picked herself a good one.”

  O’Shea couldn’t move. He had a desire to back out slowly, shut the door, and pretend this encounter hadn’t happened.

  Milly tucked her robe tight around her body, covering herself finally. Her eyes softened with worry. “Damn. Come on in. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  O’Shea followed her into the kitchen, Giselle chuckled and snickered at a distance, standing in the doorway and peering at them like a child might when a stranger comes for a visit. He didn’t sit down, but stood behind a chair. He didn’t want Rylee getting too far ahead of him.

  “I just need to know where she’s going. Until she agrees to be my partner, I have to keep tabs on her.”

  Milly motioned to the pot of coffee and he nodded to be polite, chaffing at the time delay. He had to play this right to get the information he needed. Pouring him a mug she asked, “How is that different than before?”

  He took the drink from her. “I’m looking out for her now.”

  Giselle sidled in, eyes darting to O’Shea, then to Milly and b
ack again. “Blue socks. Rylee needs them. And you,” she pointed at O’Shea. “You both need them.”

  O’Shea lifted an eyebrow at Milly. She pursed her lips. “Like I said, lucidity comes and goes for her.” She took a sip of her coffee, grimaced, and stared at him over the rim, green eyes challenging him. He liked this side of her better; this was the Milly he could see being friends with Rylee.

  Letting out a breath, he put his cup untouched on the table. “Tell me where she’s going and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Her friend Dox is in trouble. But she’s got a salvage first. She’s heading to a bar in Bismarck to meet with the mother of the kid. Bottom’s Up, I think.”

  His eyebrows rose sharply. That was a strip joint. Not that it mattered, if that was where Rylee was going, he would follow. A sharp nod and he turned to leave, stopped only by a hand; Giselle again. He stared down at her, shocked to see a sharp intelligence in her eyes.

  “She needs you. She just doesn’t know it yet. There are people who would manipulate and use not only her talents, but her grief, against her.”

  His lips clamped shut, unable to say anything to that statement.

  Giselle tightened her grip on his hand, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. “Rylee will die if she doesn’t let you into her life.”

  Ice trickled down his spine. “Then I’d better get going after her.”

  The old woman, nodded. “And be warned, Liam. The darkness that seeks her life will seek yours. It doesn’t want you at her side and will do anything to keep you apart. It will use any means necessary to turn you two against one another. It will make you fear and hate yourself. You must rise above it all.”

  How had she known his first name? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on. He’d gotten what he’d come for, gotten more than he’d bargained for. With care, he finally pulled his hand free, and Giselle slumped into the chair; he glanced at Milly. The witch was silently crying, a hand trembling at her lips, though she said nothing.