by Cera Daniels
"Ah. The liner notes." She nodded. "I think they were meant to direct the oral retelling. Doesn't matter much. The handwriting had a nasty slant to the left so I had them wrong."
"In what way?" he asked.
"Should have been, 'sever, wither'. And then either 'link, change' or 'link, die'." She dropped into the driver's seat of the tiny car. "Context is a tricky beast with pictographic languages. I'm not sure if I keep getting that death one wrong or not."
He slipped her three hundred-dollar bills to cover her trip fare. "Stay safe."
"Survivor in her blood and she doesn't like air time. All you have to do to make her happy is keep up. Nice choice, Spiritwalker." She winked, then saluted him with the gas money. "I'll be in touch."
Well, he'd gotten his wish. He had more answers. Ryan sighed as she drove off. Keeping up with Amanda wouldn't be the problem. But keeping her alive?
Amanda was ready to send the bomb techs on their scavenger hunt. She'd keep working while they searched, and fill in more locations as night approached and passed into day. Municipal buildings formed the bulk of her list so far, with some high rises and one or two tenements sprinkled in the mix. His brothers geared up to head out for recon. Romeo was certain he could recognize Jackson's scent if they found the right place, so he'd be trail-hunting with Zach and Jay.
Amanda kept nibbling on her bottom lip.
Ryan rested a soothing hand at the small of her back. "We can go with them, if you'd prefer."
"I don't want to watch from the sidelines," she whispered.
"I won't tell."
His lips found the top of one of her ears and she shot a wry smile up at him. "Now's not the time to do more damage to my career."
"You came after me without your badge."
"I never intended to take you down alone. I was looking for evidence, so I could send the department after you. Exactly what we're doing now, except this time we've got the right man. I don't need to go. I need to be here, working on the next piece of the puzzle."
Ryan nodded. "As long as you're sure."
One of her cheeks hollowed as she chewed on the inside of her mouth. "I just want to ask him . . . why."
If they found Jackson Price before the police did, Ryan had a few questions of his own.
"We will find him," Romeo reassured him.
Ryan kissed Amanda's cheek before joining his brothers and his spirit guide outside. "Keep him in one piece."
Jay chuckled. "I think the dog can fend for himself."
"I mean Jackson." Ryan grabbed Zach's arm as the German shepherd climbed into the back of their truck. "He was lead investigator at Old Town."
Jay's grin faltered and grim acknowledgment clouded Zach's face. "He'll talk. Let's go, Jay."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Amanda hung up the phone in her bedroom, then shot a look down the hall at the tall, handsome man who'd remained behind. "You didn't mention Dale wanted me to play dead."
"I'm not here to babysit you any more than you're here to play safe. You were going to do what was best for the case whether or not he ordered you to hide," Ryan said upon reaching the doorway.
Damn right.
"Besides, we had other things to discuss at the time." He leaned on the doorframe with a maddening half-smile on his lips.
Amanda cocked her head to the side. "You could have saved yourself the argument in the short term. Deflected, so I'd call my lieutenant first thing. You didn't."
He raised an eyebrow. "What was said needed to be said."
"So, not because you knew it'd be worse later, then." She reached behind the nightstand and yanked the land line from the wall.
"Not entirely." He cleared his throat as she grabbed the power cord. "We weren't done."
"No," Amanda agreed. She gathered the phone in her hands, then turned to him. "First round of targets are covered. We're set for hourly check-ins, so I can give him more locations and he can pass along updates. I'm moving this to the living room so I'll have a line closer to my workspace."
He straightened. "What do you need me to do?"
"Be my sounding board when I start thinking out loud. Don't let me skip lunch." She looked up into brown eyes no longer guarded by fake glasses. "And answer your Spirit-mate's questions."
Ryan's eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled. "Is that where you want to start?"
She shook her head down the hallway. "I think you can go back further than that, Klepto."
And as she returned to her street maps, he did.
Klepto had started out as a way to level the playing field. Years ago, their father had used his money, and the mysterious guise of Klepto, to negotiate a syndicate cease-fire. The elder McLelas had ended the war the first time around. He'd continued to balance the playing field for over a decade. Bloodshed had been minimal, though crime still plagued the streets. Ryan had inherited more than just his father's company. He'd taken up his mask, too. She'd had no idea how much the city owed the McLelas line for its years of peace-keeping.
Or how much it might have cost them. Her gut twisted with a hunch.
"The reports I found on Klepto didn't go back that far." She set down her highlighter and brushed her thumb over the back of his hand. "Did he have a power like yours? Or was he just more camera-shy?"
Ryan grinned. "He got sloppy the last couple of years. Hated learning new technology."
Amanda tapped her earlobe.
"No, he wasn't Ohanzee. My brothers and I got our superpowers from mom's side of the family." He drew in a shuddering breath. "I miss her."
Sorrow for his losses caught in her heart. Only Old Town seemed to bring his shields down so absolutely. Amanda ran a hand up his arm.
"I don't even know if she had an ability," he said. "I was young, stubborn, and I never asked. Now all we have left are those depressing stories, and there wasn't a thing in any of them to help me protect my brothers."
Old Town. Her instincts buzzed like a fly at a window, only she'd learned her lesson about swatting the former away.
"Amanda?" He sat up, his hand wrapping around her fingers.
"The timing, Ryan," Amanda blinked at his grip for a moment before she realized she'd squeezed his arm hard enough to whiten her knuckles. She released him with a start. "Sorry."
He didn't let go. "What is it? Jackson?"
Her head spun with thoughts of years-old ashes and the case gone cold. "Old Town, Klepto—they happened around the same time."
"Klepto was needed before she was killed," he said, an edge of almost bitterness to his tone. "Dad wasn't foolish enough to bribe cops for the official records. He didn't become Klepto for her."
"But what if a syndicate figured out what he was doing? Who he was? Who she was?" Her mind kept going even after the words stopped. What if a syndicate had murdered his mother to punish his father? And if they knew who his father was, that he was dead, they could have figured out who was now behind Klepto's mask.
"Murphy." Ryan stared at her, soulful brown eyes wide with shock.
She stared back. "Does he know who you are?"
"No, but . . . " Ryan threaded her fingers in his as he told her about their original plan to back Murphy, about how it all changed the night he'd overheard Shiv playing judge, jury, and executioner for the two syndicate thugs. "Murphy knows something."
Amanda frowned. "Shiv's a loose cannon. Murphy may not have sanctioned those kills."
He flinched before she'd finished the observation. "Time to check in."
Duty called, and Amanda answered the land line while Ryan commanded both his earpiece and cell phone. More locations to scratch off her list as teams went out and came up empty. Her canvas shrank. Jackson's base was still missing in action. Every clean space meant they closed in on him a little more. While scribbling a list of places for Ryan's brothers try next, she read off areas for Dale to send the bomb squads to on their hunt for escalation points. Then they hung up, and she worked through the results.
She tapped t
he pad of paper on her leg. "Jackson planted bombs on McLelas Financial right under our noses. How are we supposed to catch his target locations if we don't know what we're looking for?" At least you know what you're smelling for, she sent as an afterthought to Romeo.
Romeo huffed inside her head. "Would be a lot easier to do so if the Spiritwalker wasn't bothering me for an update every five seconds or so."
She laughed, and then laughed harder at the look on Ryan's face. "Romeo?"
"He's complaining about the check-in. Exaggerating, and complaining." Ryan flashed his teeth. "Finding his hideout is the best starting point. Zach's got a bet on the table that the dog finds it, or Jackson, first."
She slid her pad of paper onto the stack of maps. "You and your brothers play a dangerous game."
"I know," he said. "It’s a challenge to watch out for them. Torpedo and Drak—their spirit guides—they help."
"Do you regret getting involved?" she asked, arching a brow. "Taking up the mask?"
"Klepto gift-wrapped Shaw Family syndicate for the good guys last night." His gaze warmed her skin and she found herself captivated by his sincerity. "We ruined them with one operation, helped the police our way. We have the means and the resources and the reputation, as well as our powers and our animal companions, to pull it off outside official channels. It's dangerous, but no, I don't regret it. I like it."
Truth. She swallowed hard. Honesty. The only thing she'd wanted from him and now, she had it and more. Stripped of secrets and emotions laid bare, her vigilante had let her in. His thumbs feathered over the pulse in each of her wrists. A welcome, reassuring touch from a man who'd possessed her with his kiss so thoroughly he'd branded her soul.
"I regret exactly one thing, Amanda." One of his hands reached up to trace her collarbone. He slid the wide neck of her sweater to the right, a gentle, slow touch, his breath a caress over her skin.
Dark brown hair cascaded over his shoulders and Amanda's fingers reached to tangle in the strands.
"This." Ryan pressed his lips to her scar. "Hurting you."
She dropped her forehead to the soft cotton of his shirt. "Ryan."
Light kisses moved along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, until his next words were a last, broken whisper by her ear. "Please forgive me."
"Yes." Amanda turned her head and her lips found his.
On and on the kiss went, tender, gentle, full of life. The spark they shared roared to flame. Then launched into full-fledged, delicious chaos.
She licked his bottom lip and Ryan surrounded her with sensation. Her head connected with the couch cushions. He came over her, his dark hair falling to either side of her face. Intimate. Private. They were hidden from the rest of the world, and she dared to want him. Amanda cupped his cheek with a hand and drew him down for more.
So much more.
Cool air touched her abs. His palms massaged her sides, stomach, the underside of each breast, electrifying every nerve ending along the way.
She rubbed her cheek against his. Stubble. Their tongues danced. Mint. Rugged, sexy, intense. Klepto and Ryan, one man, and all hers.
He took care with her clothes this time, sliding each sock, her pants, her shirt off and setting them over the side of the couch, avidly watching her face. Fiendish, sensual purpose lit those incredible, dark eyes. He bent his head and warm, attentive lips traveled down her body, tracing her skin, kissing her curves. Down, down . . . his tongue swirled in a tortuously slow circle around her belly button.
"Ryan." She tugged gently on his hair and he smiled against her skin.
"What do you want, Amanda?" he asked, his voice passion-rough. He sat up, straddling her thighs, and his eyes gleamed with need.
Searing need. The kind that she echoed to her marrow.
She pulled him down by the front of his shirt and tugged on the hem. It had to go. And it took far too long to expose the rippling muscles across his chest to her roving fingers, but only because he wouldn't stop touching her long enough to yank it over his head.
"Oh, Ryan, yes," she panted, then, unfortunately, "Condom?"
Ryan froze with one hand on the undone clasp of her bra and the other rasping over a nipple.
"Damn. It." She groaned the words and squeezed her eyes shut against the maelstrom of sensation in her core, between her thighs, desperate and demanding attention. Relief. Ryan, inside her, where he belonged. Right this minute. "Damn it!"
Ryan tucked his chin against her shoulder and chuckled. "Guess that answers my question."
He licked, then kissed, the scar on her right shoulder, nuzzled the one across her left cheekbone. He fit here, with her, and he'd taken her for a partner when he'd chosen to stay by her side. She rubbed her heel over the back of his knee. His cock jumped behind his zipper, pulsing against the place she craved a deeper touch. Amanda kissed his bicep.
Then, as if they'd had the same exact prayer, they turned as one to stare at his suitcases.
Ryan dove into the mass of bags and came up victorious, hefting two new boxes with a reckless grin on his face.
Amanda snorted as he shredded the lid on one. "Your brothers are—"
"Thoughtful, I know," Ryan said with a laugh. "Come here."
She was off the couch and in his arms before her next breath, and then she was lost to what had to be the most talented lips in Relek City. When he finally freed her, she backed him against her living room wall.
"My turn." She feasted on his mouth, exploring the decadent expanse of tanned skin and toned muscles with the pads of her fingers. Devouring inch by inch of him with her eyes, her lips. Loving the rasp of dark temptation that tapered from his pecs down to the button on his pants.
He took the look she gave that infernal button as a cue, not a request, and he stripped between heartbeats.
That heartbeat thundered under her palm. "I want you, Amanda."
"I'm yours." In an instant, Amanda found her back to the hallway wall with no idea how he'd turned them, and not a care to find out, so long as his hands kept touching her there. And there.
And, "Oh, yes!" there.
They made it to the bed.
Somehow.
Amanda nibbled on his earlobe as he filled her. She licked the skin underneath it and ground her hips against his. They both gasped. Her legs wrapped around his and she gave up control to a pounding rhythm.
Moaning his name, she clawed at his shoulders.
Ryan kneaded the small of her back. A deep, knowing touch. An uproar of bliss through her limbs.
Sizzling. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder.
He moaned, thrusting harder. Faster.
A wild, perfect ride.
Amanda nipped at his skin, swirled her tongue over the tiny bite. Lost. To sensation, his touch, the entwined scent of their furious love-making, the riotous beating of her pulse and his.
"Amanda," he shouted, coming with a final thrust that sent her into the stratosphere.
Her head buzzed, her toes tingled. Her fingers dug into Ryan's back, unwilling to let him go, and the orgasm rolled on and on through her body. Pleasure, so much pleasure she barely caught his next words.
"I love you."
They stole time, questions, answers, about their lives, the people in them, what they enjoyed most on a "normal" day. But it was pillow talk on high speed, as if there wasn't enough time left in the world for them to know the lighter, everyday kind of secrets. A crazy, stolen, desperate treat in the middle of chaos.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ryan joined Amanda in her detective mode through the night, puzzling together Jackson's phone calls, old cases, the vision of his endgame. They checked in with Dale and his brothers on the hour, every hour. They hadn't intended to fall asleep, but he opened his eyes to a living room lit by only an end table lamp, Amanda curled against his side. She woke when he stirred, and stroked his cheek with possessive fingers. He had time to nuzzle a kiss to the side of her neck and realize they'd missed the last two check-in
s before Romeo's link snapped taut in his head and ruthlessly hauled him into darkness.
The Listening dumped him in what felt like a wet snow bank. Fresh snowflakes pattered onto his face and melted.
"This is the place," Romeo said, and he heard it like speech.
"What are we listening for?" Amanda asked.
"Amanda?" Cold realization cut through Ryan's veins. "No, Romeo. Let her go. Last time—"
"Last time, this saved us from a sniper." Amanda's hand landed on his arm, and her fingers slid down until they entwined with his. "He asked first. It's okay."
At her touch, the chill abated. It wasn't okay. His spirit guide had gone behind his back, endangered Amanda . . . but he'd ultimately saved their lives. They were still safe. While their minds were Listening, Ryan held Amanda on her couch, in his arms. In reality, they wouldn't fall, or crash, or be targeted by syndicate thugs.
He let out a slow, even breath. "Where are my brothers, Romeo?"
"Busy. They can't Listen."
"Fate was wrong." Muffled, as if the voice came from behind a wall. Jackson? "But I didn't let the enemy have her, did I?"
"What the hell happened to you, Price?" Another man's voice, but this one quaked with grief.
Amanda's breath caught. "Not Charlie. No. I sent him out there, Ryan."
"I died." Hinges creaked. Metal crashed against metal.
Ryan pulled her close in the darkness.
"Where are they?" Amanda's fingers gripped his like a lifeline, but her heart thrummed a steady, calm pace. "I can hear church bells, but not the rail."
Ryan focused on the sensory details and the ambient street noise. Smooth, clean pavement. The intermittent hum of an unreliable street lamp. A homeless cat. Seven o'clock chimes from one of the city's churches. He shook his head. Not enough.
"First, the mission." Jackson snapped something plastic against a desk or a table. He sighed. "Physical therapists who think they're cops."
"Romeo, do something!" Amanda cried.
"Destiny is after bigger pretenders than you," Jackson said.
A deep, warning bark rattled Ryan's teeth, then rail car brakes squealed in his ears. A door slammed open, echoing into the street.