by Nina Croft
She shook her head and winced again. “No. One of them said his name was Stark but I’d never seen him before.”
“Well, don’t worry. We’ll get you to look at some pictures when we get to the Yard.”
“She’s not going to Scotland Yard,” Mal said. “She’s coming with me.”
“The hell she is,” Cole snapped. “I’ve got two dead cops and she’s my only lead. No way is she leaving my sight.”
As Mal stepped into the light, her eyes stretched wide and her mouth fell open. “You,” she said, her gaze fixed on his face. Then she turned to Cole. “I’m not going anywhere with him. He broke into my apartment tonight. I phoned it in. I’m sure you can check.”
Cole swung around to confront him. “Well, do you have an identical twin?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Shit, Mal. Did you know you’re bleeding?”
He glanced down. Crimson stained his arm beneath the sleeve of his Black T-shirt. “I took a bullet back there. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. Jack,” Cole called behind him and a man detached himself from the group of police officers. “Keep an eye on Ms. Palmer, will you? You”—he poked a finger into Mal’s chest—“come with me.”
Mal hesitated, but taking the girl in front of so many police wasn’t really an option. Once, he would have killed them with no regrets, but no longer. Vortigen would say he’d gone soft. But Cole was a friend. Besides, by morning, he would have the authority do whatever was necessary. He would wait but stay close.
He led the way up the slope and back to his car. From here, he could still see Lily seated on the edge of the car trunk, her face pale in the flashing lights, her gaze fixed on him.
“Let’s see it then,” Cole said.
He tugged his T-shirt over his head and twisted so he could see the wound. The bullet was lodged in the muscle of his upper arm. The torn flesh had stopped bleeding and already begun the healing process. He needed the bullet out.
“Nice tattoo,” Cole said.
Mal glanced down at the red dragon twined around his left bicep, its head curling over his shoulder, green eyes blazing, flames licking over his heart. “And nice bracelet,” Cole added, nodding at the red-gold torc wrapped around his upper right arm.
“A present from my mother,” Mal replied. “Now, are you going to drool over me all day, or are you going to get that bullet out?”
“Get it out? Fuck that. I want to see how bad it is, and then you’re off to the ER.”
“You do it, or I do it,” Mal said.
He popped open the trunk of his car, rifled through the bag of weapons, and pulled out a long knife—a beautiful weapon, its gold hilt inlaid with rubies.
Cole took it gingerly, his gaze narrowing on the already healing wound. “Christ. Never mind who are you? What are you?”
Not a question he was ready to answer. Cole wouldn’t believe him anyway. “Just get it out.”
The knife dug tentatively into the flesh of his arm. Mal braced himself, beads of sweat forming on his forehead—it was taking too long.
“Stop dicking around,” he growled. “Just get the fucking thing out.”
Cole shrugged, but the knife dug deeper, and a moment later, the bullet slid free from his flesh.
“Thanks,” he said.
The detective’s face was a nice shade of green. He examined the blood-streaked bullet in his hand. “Mind if I keep this?” he asked. “We can get ballistics to run a check on it.”
“Why not?” Mal used his T-shirt to wipe the fresh blood from his arm then tossed it in the trunk of his car. He rummaged around and came up with a new shirt, still in its cellophane wrapper.
“I see you’re prepared for all eventualities,” Cole said. “Just how often do you have to change your blood-stained clothing, Mal?”
“Often enough.”
“Obviously. And now that major surgery has been performed, let’s get back to the station, and see if we can’t find these fuckers.”
“Okay, but the girl goes with me.”
Cole studied him through narrowed eyes. “How about you and the girl come with me? Jack can drive your car back to the station. He’ll be thrilled. I doubt he’s ever driven a Lamborghini.”
Mal nodded slowly. He’d go with Cole rather than dispose of a dozen cops. Yeah, perhaps Vortigen was right—he had gone soft.
***
Lily hugged her arms around her middle as the two men disappeared from sight behind one of the vehicles parked on the road above her.
That bastard had not only invaded her dreams, which was bad enough, he’d also broken into her apartment. So what the hell was he doing all buddy-buddy with the police?
The rising sun was just lighting the sky to the east, the morning already warm, but she couldn’t stop shivering. Jack handed her a jacket and she wrapped it around herself. He also produced a thermos of hot coffee from somewhere, and she sipped it while she waited. The detective had said he had two dead cops. The men who had taken her had killed them. Had they planned to kill her as well? Obviously, not immediately. So what had they wanted with her?
And where were they now? Another shiver ran through her. She wanted away from here.
“What’s happening?” she asked Jack.
“We’re just waiting for Detective Inspector Cole.” He glanced up the embankment. “Here they are. I’m sure we can go now.”
The two men strode toward them and her pulse rate quickened. The man from her apartment was naked from the waist up, his black pants hanging low on his hips. The broad expanse of his chest was bared, revealing the smooth swell of muscles, the lean flatness of his belly. His shoulders were wide, his skin golden, flawless but for…
Her breath caught in her throat. She stood up quickly and swayed, almost falling. Jack caught her, and she clung to him briefly, then took a deep breath.
“Sorry. My leg cramped, but I’m okay. You can let me go.”
He loosened his grip, and Lily straightened.
The man had pulled on a shirt now and was regarding her, his face impassive. Cole spoke, but she didn’t hear the words, her attention focused on the man.
“That mark,” she said, “on your arm, let me see.”
He shook his head. “Later.”
Lily gritted her teeth. She didn’t understand what was going on. But this man did. It all centered around the mark on her arm. The mark of the Dragon Princess, Stark had called it. Now, she was sure he had one similar, and she wasn’t going anywhere until she saw it.
Nearby, a small bush burst into flames.
“Control yourself,” he said in a low voice.
She didn’t want to fucking control herself. “Show me the goddamn mark.”
His lips pursed as he studied her, then he shrugged. Unbuttoning his shirt, he slipped his left arm out of the sleeve.
Lily reached out with unsteady fingers and touched the smooth swell of muscle. He flinched but didn’t move as she traced the beautiful lines of the red dragon. Prickles of sensation ran along her fingertips, and she snatched her hand away. She took a step back as he slipped the shirt on.
“Why,” Cole said from beside them, “do I get the impression that everyone here knows more than I do? Ms. Palmer, are you going to tell me what that was all about?”
“No,” Lily said.
“Mal?”
“No.”
Cole sighed. “Let’s go to the station.”
Chapter 4
Mal stood on the other side of the glass and studied her.
When she’d touched his mark, he’d sensed a connection flare to life, flow through his veins, sizzle along his nerves, and settle in the very core of his being. The reaction had knocked him off balance, sent him reeling.
There could be no connection between the likes of him and the likes of Lily Palmer.
Not now. Not ever.
It was merely a combination of hope and euphoria. They’d been waiting, searching, for so long and
now she was here. They were going home at last. That was all. She was nothing to him. And that was the way things had to stay.
Even so, he couldn’t help but admire her. After everything she’d been through tonight, she had stood her ground and faced up to him. Not many did that—even his own people backed down from the King’s Enforcer.
“She’s one hell of a beautiful woman,” Cole said from beside him. “You know, if I somehow found myself in her bedroom—just by chance you understand—I might be tempted to hold a gun on her and maybe get her to take her clothes off…very tempted.”
Mal ignored him. He’d put in another call and hopefully, soon the order would come down that he could take the girl and they’d be out of here.
“Let me see your arm,” Cole said.
“It’s okay.”
“Yeah, I can see that, which is why I want to look at it. Come on, indulge my curiosity.”
He turned and displayed the nearly healed wound.
Cole whistled. “What are you?” he asked again.
“A fast healer.” He hoped that would be an end to the conversation, but no such luck.
“You know, that sort of thing could go a long way to explaining how a man could be hit over the head with a very heavy object and within an hour there’s no sign.”
“Really?”
“One day you’ll tell me, right?”
“Sure, I will.”
“Yeah, then you’ll have to kill me. Come on, let’s get in there and find out what our little beauty queen knows. My bet is—absolutely nothing.”
She sat hunched on one of the hard plastic chairs, her fingers tracing patterns on the table in front of her. As they entered, she glanced up, her gaze darting between them, lines of strain etched around her mouth and eyes. Cole dragged out the chair opposite her then studied her, a frown forming. “Has anyone brought you a coffee?
“No.”
“You want one?”
She gave a glimmer of a smile. “I would murder for a coffee right now.”
“Perhaps not the most diplomatic answer considering where we are. But I’ll be right back.”
When the door closed behind him, she turned her attention to Mal. “Why is this happening to me? You know, don’t you?”
Mal shrugged. Yeah, he knew. But what could he say? Because your mother was a sad, bitter woman brought to the end of her tether by a cold, arrogant mate who cared for nothing but himself? That your father was an evil bastard who took advantage of her. It wouldn’t help her to know those things. She just needed to do as she was told, fulfill her destiny, and maybe she would survive. Though she might come to wish otherwise.
But he wasn’t telling her anything until he was sure she wasn’t in league with the Conclave. Oh, she appeared innocent enough, but that meant nothing.
***
It looked like she was back in the crazy world.
Lily rubbed her eyes and glared at the man lounging against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Maybe if she nagged enough, he would get annoyed and reveal something. She opened her mouth, but at that moment, the detective returned and she clamped it shut again.
He was juggling three coffees and carrying her handbag under his arm. After dumping the bag on the table, he handed that man a coffee, then put a second down in front of Lily before sinking onto the seat opposite her.
“We’re not charging you with anything but you have the right to a lawyer.”
“No. Just get it over with.” And then what would she do? Where would she go? Home had hardly proved to be a safe haven.
Cole picked up the handbag, reached inside, and lifted something out. Lily was unsurprised when he held up the gun with his thumb and finger, careful not to leave prints on the dull, black metal. “Is this yours?” he asked.
Lily stared at the gun with revulsion. “No. It’s his.” She swiveled in the chair and scowled at the man leaning against the wall. His face remained impassive.
“Mal?” Cole asked.
“It’s not mine.”
Rage welled up inside her. “He’s a fucking goddamn liar. Why are you listening to him? Why is he even here? He broke into my apartment, held me at gunpoint, and you do nothing.” Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. “At least tell me who he is.”
Cole shrugged. “His name is Malachite Smith. He’s a government agent.” He quirked an eyebrow. “So you can see, Ms. Palmer, why we are a little skeptical about your story.”
Lily stared at him. “A government agent? Are you sure? How do you know he’s not lying?”
“I’ve known Mal a long time,” Cole said. “I’ve worked cases with him before. Unfortunately, I don’t know you.”
Lily had no clue what was going on. If he was a government agent, what did that mean? Why would the government be interested in her?
“Right,” Cole said. “Tell me what happened tonight.” He reached forward and pressed a button on the desk. “Interview with Lily Palmer, of 115 Beacon Way, Balham. Go ahead.” He nodded to Lily.
She went through it slowly, trying to get everything straight in her head, starting from when she had woken up and first seen Mal. She didn’t mention the strange sense of recognition. She didn’t want Cole to think she was crazy. Even if she was.
Cole stopped her now and then with questions, and she tried to answer as best she could. Mal remained silent until the point where she told of the two men who had accosted her outside her apartment.
“Had you met them before?”
“No,” she snapped.
He came around and stood over her, arms folded across his chest. No doubt doing his best to look intimidating. Well hard luck. She’d gone way beyond that.
“So you’d had no dealings with these men prior to tonight?” he asked.
“No. I told you. Why would you think I’d know them?” Her brows knitted. “Do you know who they are, Mr. Government Agent?”
Cole glanced up at him as well, obviously interested in the answer.
“You know,” she said slowly, “they wanted the same thing you did.”
Mal remained silent.
Cole glanced at him, then back at her. “And what’s that, Ms. Palmer?”
“They both wanted to see the mark.”
“Which mark would that be? No one’s mentioned any mark before.”
Lily frowned. Did she want to go there? The mark was something personal, something she’d kept to herself and only shown to a few very close friends all her life. Was she ready to bring it out into the open now? Then again, she knew deep down that it held the answers. “I have a mark,” she said slowly. “I’ve had it all my life.”
“A birth mark?”
“I don’t know. But tonight, when he”—she nodded at Mal—“broke into my apartment, he wanted to see it. And later, the others wanted to see it as well. But all of them knew what they were looking for.”
Cole put his hand to his head and rubbed his temple. “I have absolutely no idea where this is going.” He glanced at Mal. “You want to add anything at this point?”
“No.”
“No,” Lily mimicked. “He’s very good at saying that, isn’t he? I suppose it’s classified,” she sneered. “I bet he uses that one all the time. It must be a good excuse for breaking and entering, and holding defenseless women at gunpoint. Pervert,” she muttered.
“Right,” Cole said. “This mark, can I see it?”
“No,” Mal said.
“Yes,” she countered immediately. She would have said no herself, but she wasn’t agreeing with him. She tugged her T-shirt down off her shoulder revealing the mark.
Cole whistled softly. “Now, where have I seen something like that before?”
“Exactly,” Lily said.
“What is it?” Cole asked. “A tattoo?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve had it since I was a baby.” She nodded at Mal. “Why not ask him?”
“Mal?”
“Mine’s a tattoo.”
“Liar,” s
he said.
“Then why the interest in it?” Cole asked him. “Why the break-in?”
“I thought we’d agreed it wasn’t me.”
Cole let out a long sigh. “Okay, let’s get back to the story. Ms. Palmer—”
“Lily. Please, call me Lily.” It might be an idea to get this man on her side. She smiled at him and his eyes widened. Mal snorted. She glanced at him. He rolled his eyes in obvious disgust, and she smiled at him as well.
“Lily,” Cole said, “why don’t you finish up from where we left off?”
“What? You mean before Mr. Macho there, interrupted me with his pointless accusations.”
Cole pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and nodded. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
Lily finished her story. At the end, she sat back. “That’s it, you opened the trunk, and there I was.”
“Right,” Cole said. “That’s it for the moment. Do you have any questions?”
“The men who took me,” Lily said. “They told me they knew my father. Detective Cole, I don’t know who my father is, or my mother. I’ve never known. I was found abandoned as a baby, no one ever came forward, and I grew up in a children’s home. Why would they say that? How could they know?”
Mal answered. “They don’t. They can’t, because your father’s dead. He was dead before you were found.”
“And how do you know that? Who are you?” She paused. “Who am I?”
Cole’s cell phone rang; he glanced at the screen and stood up. “I have to take this.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Lily sat in stunned silence. Did Mal really know so much about her, or was he pretending? What did he want from her? He watched her, his expression intense, and a shiver skittered down her spine.
“Please,” she said, though she hated the idea of pleading with him. “Tell me what this is all about.”
“Not here, and not until I’m sure you don’t already know.”
Her anger flared again. “Why the hell would I ask if I already know?”
“Calm down.” He gave a little smile. “You wouldn’t want to set the station on fire, would you?”
He had a point. She folded her arms across her chest and ground her teeth.