by Jaime Rush
Two things the uniform designer did allow for were quick-drying material and ease in extracting Deuce weapons. Kade ran his fingers from wrist to inner elbow, feeling the spark of magick. The dagger “tattoo” thrummed with magick, courtesy of a specially commissioned Guard tattoo artist.
He suspected Violet’s home was a cabin in the western edge. Her face dominated his mind, the smell of her, the tingle he’d felt when her wrists were clamped in his hands, her body against the wall. A part of him had wanted her to dart off again, craving the chase. Because he knew he’d catch her.
He shook the thought away. Now he would catch her. And kill her. He didn’t have to like or agree with the order; he simply had to carry it out. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last.
He paralleled a gravel road, barely visible in the distance, until he spotted a burgundy Infiniti parked in the driveway. Synthetic pop music floated from somewhere beyond the house. He surveyed the area. The house was small but quaint, painted a soft yellow with white shutters and gingerbread trim. The recently mowed grass that surrounded the house in a tidy square was lush and green. Plants and flowers overran the planting beds, a wild mess. Except it wasn’t, he realized, seeing a loose but deliberate arrangement of the various plants. Somehow the undisciplined aspect intrigued him more than the sculpted bushes and trimmed trees in his yard in Coral Gables.
He recognized the music now: Berlin, from the eighties. “The Metro.” It fit Violet, tough and in your face. Odd, since Violet seemed too young to have been more than a child in the eighties.
Who cared what she liked to listen to? The knife tattoo came to life, filling his hand with the heavy feel of metal. He clutched the dagger as he rounded the rear corner of the house. Farther back sat a large workshop with several long tables in the center of the space and shelves that lined the walls. She was doing something at one of the tables.
He cut back into the woods and came up behind the metal building. As he sidled up along the side, he nearly gave himself away when his shoe bumped an alligator in the bushes. He slapped his hand over his mouth as he stumbled back. The alligator leered at him with glassy eyes. Wait a minute. Kade tapped the gator with his shoe. It was hard. Hell, the thing was stuffed. He crouched near the edge of the open bay and watched Violet.
Hopefully she was planning the next murder, doing something to prove her guilt. He tried to see inside the many clear boxes on the shelves. They looked like they were filled with colorful stones. She worked a pair of pliers on a leather strap with jerky movements, cursing when a string of beads fell and scattered all over. Damn. It wasn’t destructive; it was jewelry. She bent and picked them up, her pants stretching tight over her ass. One bead bounced and landed within a few feet of him. She hadn’t seen it, but a big, dopey-looking dog did. Then the dog saw him.
Uh-oh.
Its tail thumped on the floor, which was covered in outdoor carpet. Okay, not a guard dog but still problematic. He stepped out of view and heard Violet throw the beads and issue a guttural expletive.
She darted out of the workshop, her face buried in her hands, and passed within three feet of him. The dog followed, glancing back at him. Kade remained in place, watching her heaving shoulders as she reached the thicket of cypress and pine trees and fell to her knees.
The dog flopped down beside her and rested its head on her thighs. She buried her face in its fur, her fingers curling into the folds of skin. Her muffled sobs clawed right through him. These were not the cries of a woman putting on a show or upset over something that didn’t go her way. This was grief, raw and keening. She said one word over and over, and finally he was able to make it out: Arlo.
She presented him with the perfect opportunity, too grief-stricken to notice if her Dragon warned of a presence coming up behind her. He scanned the surroundings as he readied his dagger for a quick, merciful kill. His pulse throbbed at the side of his throat as it did in these situations, and his fingers tightened on the hilt.
Except his body wouldn’t move. Every preconceived notion he had about Violet—unkempt, untamed, violent—fled his mind, replaced by vulnerable, fiery, and innocent.
Innocent.
Former fellow Vega Cyntag Valeron had just come to him that morning, out of the blue, to decipher a magick book. He’d been cryptic about both it and the woman with him but clear about the advice he’d imparted: “Trust your gut above all else. If it doesn’t feel right, it’s probably not.”
Kade’s gut screamed, Don’t kill her.
The oaths he’d taken as a Vega to uphold the law at any cost fell away, replaced by a conviction that Violet was not guilty of some murderous conspiracy.
One moment he stood frozen in his inner turmoil, and the next, a Dragon’s gaping mouth was lunging for his throat. He twisted but still got knocked on his ass twenty feet away. He landed in a marshy area, sending a wave of muddy water spraying. His breath escaped in a hard gasp, and he hardly had time to breathe before the Dragon moved into view.
Dappled sunlight shimmered off her maroon scales. She lunged down at him, fangs stopping half an inch from eviscerating him. Inside her open mouth, magick flares capable of inflicting any type of pain fired to life. Her catlike eyes shrank. “You!” The fierce flames in her eyes didn’t soften one bit. “How dare you sneak up on me!”
Her voice as Dragon was low and rumbly, but every bit of her anger projected through loud and clear. He rolled, coming to his feet in one swift movement. What to say? He knew she was embarrassed at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, and being Amethyst, she was all emotion, not to mention unpredictable and high-strung.
“Violet, I—”
“Idjit! People are killing each other by sneaking onto our land. So either you’re here to arrest me or you’ve got a death wish. And if it’s the latter, I’m more than happy to grant it.” She charged at him again.
He pressed his hand to her forehead and “shot” her. She Catalyzed to human in the same instant that she flew backward. Her body hit with a hard thud, her arms out at her sides.
He ran toward her, calling his dagger, which had been thrown, too. It burned back into his skin as he reached her. “You okay?”
She was sprawled out, mud streaking her naked body, her eyes wide and stunned. She looked…good.
Good and mad. “What the hell was that?”
“Magick taser, a new Guard weapon. It sucks out your magick, which in a Dragon’s case, makes you human again.” He held out his hand to help her up.
She gripped it, jerking him forward and off-balance. He held on to her hand and took her with him. They landed together in the mud, a tangle of bodies. His fingers slid across her skin as he got to his feet. She slugged him, catching his jaw because he was a bit too distracted by the feel of her to be as quick as he should be. She still looked as though she’d kill him.
“Why can’t I Catalyze? What’d you do to me?” she screamed, gripping his shirt and shaking him.
Damn, she was strong. She reared back to hit him again, and he caught her fist. Their hands collided with a loud slap. She slammed him in the chest with her other hand.
He shoved her into the puddle again, trying to immobilize her. “I’m not here to hurt you. Look, I have no weapon.” He held out his hands, showing her his dagger tucked away.
She kicked him in the stomach and tried to crawl away. Which left her sweet, mud-slicked ass in full view. A groan started climbing his throat but he stifled it.
“Assaulting an officer,” he muttered, grabbing her around the waist. “Again.”
“So it is a death wish then?” She jerked her head around, pinning him with a glare as sharp as his dagger. “Since you have no reason to arrest me.”
“Settle down now, darling.”
She let out a growl worthy of her Dragon and jumped on top of him, her hands around his collarbone. “Don’t you dare call me ‘darling.’”
“It slipped out,” he grunted as she ground him into the mud. “It doesn’t mean anything.” But
damn, that word never slipped out while on duty. She was firing up his wild side big-time. Her thighs squeezed his hips; her hands pinned his shoulders. He tried to gain control but she wouldn’t budge. “Damn, woman, you an alligator wrestler?”
“Champion in the local division four years running, umpteen years ago.” Her smile reeked of pride and challenge. And he always accepted a challenge. With a heave, he rolled her so he was on top. She kept the roll going, besting him again.
“Will you listen?” he said.
She grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head back. “I would have listened if you’d called the number on all that damned paperwork they made me fill out. While you were all inside laughing at me, I’m sure.”
How to gain control of the situation without grabbing her somewhere inappropriate—somewhere that wouldn’t piss her off even more? Damned tricky when she was naked. And muddy. Plus the fact that he wanted to touch her somewhere inappropriate. “I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“Sure you were. Inside. Outside you were giving me that smug smile you probably think…is…gorgeous.” She fought as he tried to wrap his arms around her upper arms. “While you looked down your nose at me.”
“Actually, I was looking at your tight shirt.”
She slugged him in the jaw again, not really hard enough to do any damage. He threw his weight toward her, pushing her backward and coming down on top of her. Now he straddled her thighs, leaning down to hover above her.
“I was kidding,” he said, his mouth only an inch from hers. “I was taking all of you in. I couldn’t believe you were the same Violet Castanega I saw in muddy clothes and a tangled braid.” He couldn’t help the smile as he let his gaze drift from her neck down to her chest that rose and fell with deep breaths. The mud didn’t cover the curve of her breasts or the hardened nipples that made him wonder if she was enjoying this on some deep level, too. “Then again, you do look extraordinary in mud.”
“Let me up!” She tried to buck him off, which drove her pelvis up and dangerously close to smashing his balls.
He lay all his weight on top of her. “Not until you promise to stop fighting.”
“I can’t promise that. How long do the effects of your magick stun gun last?”
“Up to thirty minutes.”
She bucked again, but he finally had her under his control. And he liked it. His women were always willing. Something about the fight completely turned him on, especially the way her pelvis bumped against his.
Her eyes widened. “Holy dragonfire, are you…does fighting get you…hot?”
He supposed, with all of this writhing around, it was inevitable that she’d notice his erection. “Not usually, but then again, I’ve never fought a feisty, naked female in the mud before. I have to admit, it’s doing strange things to me.” At her surprised look, he added, “Well, you asked. I answered honestly.”
She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Okay then, answer this honestly. Why are you here?”
That was a bit trickier, but he could stick to the true part. “I came to ask you more about your allegations.”
She just stared at him for a moment, her brown eyes disbelieving. “Instead of catching me in the parking lot, or calling, you sneak onto my land and surprise me. Are you kidding? Are you friggin’ kidding me?”
“No, I’m not. Why else would I be here?”
She let out something like a growl. “After I was summarily dismissed, why would the Guard suddenly take me seriously and send someone out? And for god’s sake, why you?”
He had those kinds of why questions, too, none he could share with her. “I’m not here on behalf of the Guard.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. Mud streaked her face, her toned body, and gods help him, she was tantalizing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“I came on my own, because what you said piqued my interest. There’s no need for the senseless deaths that would come from clan wars.” He’d seen that fear in her eyes when she’d appealed to Ferro. “I want to hear everything you know.”
She seemed to weigh his words. He knew how to lie well when he had to. It was part of his training, though he rarely used it in his personal life. This situation blurred the line. Violet was blurring all kinds of lines, obliterating others.
She took advantage of his introspection, because he was suddenly spinning off of her, compliments of an impressive twist and kick of her long, long legs. He came to his feet, ready for another attack.
She was stalking over to where her clothes had shredded when she’d Catalyzed. She held the remains of the nice, tight shirt she’d been wearing to her chest. Suspicion drenched her expression. “You’re serious?” Kade saw a mixture of hope and skepticism in her eyes. And that eradicated any last shred of doubt that she was behind this.
“Very.” He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to her.
She snatched it out of the air and wriggled into it, giving him one last heavenly view of her full breasts and flat stomach as she pulled it on. She pushed her muddy hair from her face. “Why do you care? We’re all marsh trash to the likes of you.”
“The likes of me? Because I’m a Vega?”
“Everything about you.” She swept her gaze over him. “You move like royalty, you act like you rule the world, and you look untouchable.”
Which he found amusing since he was as muddy as she was. She waited for his answer. He rubbed the mud, now itching, from his neck, buying time. Royalty, huh? He sure as hell didn’t feel like any of that at the moment. At least she hadn’t called him pretty. “My gut says there’s something going on, just like you suspect. If the Guard won’t listen, then I will.”
“Why sneak up on me? You know what ‘animals’ we all are.” She’d heard someone say it, obviously, as she mimicked it with a sneer. “We do act on instinct, at least our Dragon does. I didn’t even know you were there; my Dragon did. I could have killed you.”
He gave her a smile he was sure was smug. “No, you couldn’t have.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is a bet, isn’t it? Can Kade Kavanaugh nail the marsh trash? You might as well go home. Ain’t gonna happen. You’re totally not my type.”
Except those hardened nubs poking against his shirt told a different story. Of course, so did his cock, even as he said, “Neither are you, if that makes you feel any better. I’m a Deuce-gal kind of guy.” Although this Dragon appealed to him more than any other Crescent—Deuce or Dragon—that he’d encountered before. And that was just…crazy. “I’d never try to nail a woman for a bet.” He let his mouth curve into a smile. “Only for the mutual pleasure of both parties.”
A sound escaped her throat, but she cleared it. “Are you sure you’re not here to sniff out any more pot farms? Find something else to bust my brothers on?”
He didn’t blame her for her distrust. She had good reason not to trust the Guard, as it turned out. “Arlo was the worst offender. He had problems, whether you want to admit it or not.”
She gave a quick nod of her head. “He did.”
“Now he’s dead. Let’s find out why.” When her skepticism didn’t waver, he added, “Violet, you went to the Guard for help. I’m here. Let me help.”
The words broke down her resistance. The battle between distrusting him and needing him played over her expression. “You can’t come in my house like that.” She walked over to a faucet and turned the squeaky knob, using the hose to rinse her hair and face first. He watched, entranced, as water sluiced over her and plastered his shirt to her curves. After rinsing her legs, she headed toward him and held the stream over his head. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, feeling the grit wash away. Then she stepped back and pressed her thumb over the end to pressurize the stream. She aimed it across his shoulders and arms first.
He swore she took vengeful pleasure in hosing him down. Or maybe it was just pleasure. Her eyes followed the mud as it slid down his bare chest. Hell, he could feel that gaze slide down his body,
embers flickering in her eyes. The water was cool, the sun was hot, and he took the blast of water without giving away the war that raged through him.
Ferro’s voice told him to take her out.
Cyn told him to trust his gut.
Berlin’s female singer sang about flames reaching out for the sun.
Then she reached for his upper chest. “You’ve got a scratch. I must have done that.” She gently brushed her fingers across it beneath the water’s flow. A wake of sensation followed her caress.
“Violet,” he said, cursing himself for the hitch in his voice.
That got her attention. “Am I hurting you?”
He took the hand at his chest and drew it down to the front of his wet pants. “This much.” He thought she’d give him hell for being so brazen, slap him silly, and that would break them out of this moment of insanity. Because that was the only explanation, that the situation and adrenaline had tilted them right into crazy territory.
Instead, her eyes fired up, and he swore she actually squeezed his erection just a tiny bit. Holy shit. She angled one of her legs between his, her hands sliding to his hips. Her thigh moved up along his, and he bit back a curse. This was insanity. Not seconds before he’d proclaimed he was a Deuce-only kind of guy. But right now, he was feeling all of her Dragon heat. The directive from his superior officer, the insanity of this attraction, the danger he saw simmering in her eyes, not even the cool water that continued to bathe him did a damn thing to douse his ardor.
He took the hose from her hand and let the water wash over her. When his free hand traced her collarbone, she closed her eyes, her head lolling back. He suspected that surrender wasn’t something Violet often did, which only made the gesture more profound. How the hell was he supposed to grasp for any last thread of sanity now?