“What we have here today is a case of mistaken identity,” he continued. “I will prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the defendant was not in the Capital Hills district, but instead at the Newcropolis Pub on the night in question.”
On autopilot, she let herself study the man. Tate was in his prime, with dark hair glinting and power radiating. Even in a gray suit, she could see he was in incredible shape. She kept her own wardrobe oversized and nondescript to hide her true appearance, but his suit jacket was tailored to show off his wide shoulders and slim hips. His strength was his trademark. Everyone who knew him, talked to him or even crossed his path was aware of his indomitable power.
He turned to pace in the opposite direction as he spoke, and her gaze flashed to the keys under her fingers. Once again, though, she didn’t feel the weight of his stare.
Curious, she glanced up. He still wasn’t looking at her.
He cleared his throat.
Laryngitis? Her eyes narrowed. He didn’t appear sick in any other way. In fact, he looked damn good. His black hair glinted almost blue under the artificial lights, and he moved in a way that was athletic and smooth. She knew better than to stare, but she took the chance now. He was handsome in a hard, inapproachable way. Unyielding, dominate and sexy…
She let out her own raspy breath. What was it with her and inappropriate men?
Still, there was something about him.
She risked another peek as he finished his opening statement and sat down behind the defendant’s table. Picking up a pen, he wrote something on his notebook. He had big hands, she noted. Strong fingers. A shiver went through her. She knew now how devious a man’s fingers could be, and her thoughts went back to the night before as she’d been tied on that bed with Scythe looming over her…
“I object!”
The sharp words snapped her out of the memory.
“Leading the witness,” Tate said firmly, a rasp only coming in at the end.
“Sustained,” Judge Winston agreed. “The ADA’s question will be struck from the record.”
The record. The record. Forcing herself to stay calm, Luna looked at her work. More time had passed than she realized. Fortunately, as far as her head had strayed, her fingers had kept up with the discussion. Nodding, she proceeded to strike the last few words. At the delay, she felt the attention of the room shift, most to other things, but some of it to her.
One heavy gaze in particular landed on her.
Her spine stiffened. For the first time since he’d stepped inside the room, Tate was watching her. She could feel it. Staying impassive, she completed the request and nodded for the judge to continue. Only after the ADA was well into his next line of questioning did she risk a glance in the direction of the defense.
She jolted. Tate was still watching her from across the room. His look was steady and hard, and the expression on his handsome face was stern. She swallowed painfully, and his jaw stiffened. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but she knew where she felt that hard stare. Her neck. He was looking at the marks on her neck.
There was no way to hide. Her hands were busy, and her collar didn’t go up any higher. She’d thought she’d covered the bruises with enough concealer, but Tate had spied them from across the room.
Anger swept through her unexpectedly. What business was it of his anyway? Wasn’t he defending a man who’d done precisely the same thing to another woman? Virginia Samms had been brutally attacked. With the way the trial was going already, though, it appeared RJ Tyson was going to walk—even if his victim was the personal assistant to U.S. Senator Dawnie Durbin. Tate was just that convincing, that manipulative. Even connections like that couldn’t stop him from convincing a jury to let an attacker go scot-free.
As angry as she was, Luna dipped her chin to hide the marks. She had to remember retribution wasn’t her game—at least not until night fell.
It took a long time for Tate’s look to leave her, but once it did, it didn’t come back. Still, waiting for it to return was a strain. By the time Judge Winston adjourned for the day, Luna’s fingers were stiff and her back was sore.
It matched her mood. Tate was going to win an acquittal. She could tell by the way the jury watched him and nodded at his convincing words. She wasn’t so easily swayed. RJ Tyson was an abusive thug, and someone needed to shine the light of truth on him.
Someone like her or, more precisely, her alter ego. It was time for Luminescence to start doing her thing.
Luna sat in her car, away from the streetlights, but close enough to watch the front door of the New Q Diner. She’d followed RJ Tyson here, deep on the south side of Newcropolis. It was a dodgy part of town. She checked her locks one more time and did a quick sweep over the rundown park next to her. Even with three thousand pounds of metal surrounding her, she was on alert. Then again, Newcropolis had become so corrupt and damaged, no section of the city was really considered safe.
It was why she did the things she did, because she had the power to help.
Nervously, she rubbed the stone of her necklace. She wasn’t comfortable being out like this at night, as Luna, but she had no other option. Even Luminescence couldn’t come into this part of town at less than full power.
Her stomach growled, and she grimaced. She’d missed dinner, but RJ seemed to be eating his fill. He’d been in the place for nearly half an hour, according to her notes. She’d been following him ever since he’d left the courthouse, jotting down who he spoke to, where he went and how long he spent at each location. The man should be in a jail cell eating institutional food, but Tate had had him released on bail weeks ago. RJ could come and go as he pleased. Now he was here, eating barbecue, while her stomach gurgled and gnawed on itself.
Was he really here to eat? Her eyes narrowed as she scoped out the diner. It was tiny. From the outside, it looked like it could fit maybe three tables, tops. She’d done more research on her palm unit as she’d watched people come and go. The place seemed to focus mainly on takeout.
She wondered what else the New Q was moving to have business so brisk.
A car passed by, and she tugged her scarf so it covered more of her hair.
It was unbelievably unfair. The trial was a minor setback for this creep, while Virginia Samms was still doing physical therapy to recover.
Luna’s fingers moved absently from her stone to her neck. Would she be doing PT, too, if Scythe hadn’t taken out Sneaky Nick? Would he have found her at all if she hadn’t managed to summon enough power to put out even that muted glow?
She patted her taser to reassure herself.
Where was Scythe tonight? Who was he stalking? A chill went through her, and she looked again to the shadows of the park. It was unsettling to think he was out there somewhere in the darkness. Her enemy knew what she looked like. He knew how she worked and where her weaknesses lay. She knew nothing about him in return, other than he’d given her a night she’d never forget.
Why had he spared her? RJ hadn’t spared Virginia.
The door to the New Q opened, and she straightened in her seat. RJ Tyson had finally finished his meal or whatever he’d been doing inside. She watched as he walked down the street towards his SUV. It was a bright blue, late-model version with the cab jacked up as if it were on stilts. Definitely not low-key.
She waited for anyone else to leave. Had he been in there all alone? A strange disappointment went through her when she realized she was expecting Griffin Tate to stride out of that wooden door. As RJ pulled away from the curb, she shook off the thought and started to follow him.
“What are you up to, you shifty little—Ah!” Luna stomped on her brakes so hard, her seat belt bit into her shoulder. A menacing black sedan had come out of the alley beside the New Q, directly in front of her.
Her lights reflected off the darkened windows for a long, uncomfortable moment. Where had it come from? Was there parking behind the restaurant? She tried to see. Had she missed someone coming and going?
The
black sedan began moving again. It continued with its left turn, and she looked in her side mirror, trying to read the license plate.
When she did, her lungs expanded sharply. It was hard enough to get a license number when you were looking at it in reverse, but that wasn’t the only thing she noticed. With a shaking hand, she jotted the number down in the notebook in her lap. The number wasn’t what had her blood pumping. It was where the plate was from.
District of Columbia.
Coincidence?
She didn’t believe in coincidence.
Tossing the notebook onto the passenger seat, she put both hands on the steering wheel. Watching the car in her rearview mirror, she drove steadily away, but her mind was running fast.
RJ stopped at a gas station. She drove right on by, towards the freeway. She’d done enough surveillance for the night. Plenty.
It was only when she was clear from the neighborhood that she began to think through the implications of what she’d just seen.
DC plates.
Virginia Samms worked for Senator Durbin.
What had she just witnessed? Was the Senator having Tyson followed? Did she realize the trial wasn’t going well? Had she decided to take matters into her own hands? Luna shook her head. Didn’t the freshman Senator understand she couldn’t interfere like that? How inappropriate it was? She needed to let the justice system handle the matter, however poorly the trial was going.
Luna swore under her breath. This was not what she’d expected to find on her stakeout. What was she supposed to do?
Her mind churned all the way home. When she arrived at the manor, she automatically parked her brown sedan in the upper garage. The hidden, lower garage was for Luminescence.
She waited for the security gates to close before exiting the car. The behemoth of a house stood silent before her, empty now that her grandfather was gone. She felt the eyes of the security cameras as she walked up the lighted walkway to the side entrance. Her mind was still elsewhere when she saw something on her stoop.
Was that a basket on her doorstep?
Her heart began to thud, and she looked around nervously. Cloud cover meant another moonless night, and the shadows were dense. Was somebody out there? Had someone gotten by all her layers of security?
She eyed the basket like it was a Trojan horse. She didn’t know of any friends or family who’d planned to drop by.
Her goose bumps were turning to prickles of fear. She couldn’t stay outside like this, vulnerable and unaware. The darkness pushed her forward, but that innocent-looking basket kept her back. Finally, the night and her curiosity won. She approached the basket hesitantly, but she smelled it before she saw anything inside.
Her stomach growled. Was it food?
Kneeling, she peeled back the red-and-white checkered napkin. She stared at the contents in confusion. It was takeout. From the New Q. Foreboding washed through her, cold and jagged.
She pushed the basket away, but a receipt fluttered in the breeze. No, that wasn’t a receipt, it was a Post-it note. Peeling it off, she read it quickly.
I told you to stay home or get a partner, Luminescence. That means you too, pretty Luna.
She stumbled backwards when she recognized the rudimentary sketch. It was of a scythe.
The stone of her necklace warmed between her breasts. Warmed and then chilled.
He’d seen her on her stakeout tonight, and he knew more than her face. He knew her name. He knew where she lived.
He knew who she was.
Chapter Four
Scythe watched Luna approach the big, looming house from underneath an old oak tree. He was still hidden in the corner of her yard. He knew he should leave, but he wanted to see her reaction. He needed to know that he’d made his point. She looked confused at first and a bit wary when she spotted the gift he’d left for her. He nodded. That’s right, lightness, feel the nip of fear. She knelt and then pulled back sharply. She had his note.
The nip of fear became a big, toothy bite. He could see from the way her spine stiffened and feel it in the way the air changed. The damp night breeze rippled, and her tension radiated all the way to where he stood. It hit him in the chest and settled lower, in his groin.
Good, he thought, shifting in discomfort.
She needed to be scared. She needed to back off. She didn’t know where she was treading, and she was getting too far onto his turf.
The innocent little fool.
His weapon spun in his hand, the blade turning like a windmill overhead. What had she been thinking, running around the south side of Newcropolis? She looked like a timid librarian in that getup. It hung on her like a sack, and the color washed the pink right out of her cheeks. If she thought the disguise helped her blend into the background, she was dead wrong. He wanted to rip the plain, frumpy clothes off her even more than he had those tiny bits of leather last night. And that bun. His fingers ached to pull out the band that held it in place. He remembered how silky the long strands had felt. Silky and sexy.
She turned in his direction suddenly, with her face lifted. For the briefest of seconds, the moon peeked through the cloud cover. That second was all she needed. Like a firefly, her delicate skin started to glow. His fingers bit into the wooden handle of his weapon, and the scythe jerked still. With so little skin exposed, her light mellowed quickly. The moon went back into hiding, but she’d nearly caught him. Much more and the glow would have reflected off his blade.
Just to be safe, he moved silently to the shadows cast by the eight-foot-tall stone fence that surrounded the grounds of the premises.
That skin of hers… Damn, he had a thing for it even worse than her hair. She’d gone all glowy on him last night too. He didn’t know how she’d managed it, or if she even knew that she’d done it, but she’d radiated moonlight as she’d orgasmed. His cock hardened. He’d been inside her at the time, and the energy that had gone through them both was indescribable. Cool, blue and nearly rip-your-head-off powerful.
A grumble left his lips. His blonde bombshell packed a punch in more ways than one, but last night had been a mistake. He’d tied her up for a reason. He’d taken her for another, but that was beside the point. He’d meant to teach her a lesson. The bad element running through Newcropolis wasn’t to be toyed with. Someone like her—so good, pure and well-intentioned—could never survive. He knew, because he ran with the wolves.
The big, bad kind. All he wanted was to eat her right up.
He’d done it once and, if he got a chance, he’d do it again.
And again and again and again.
A long breath left his lungs. Yeah, last night had backfired on him, big time. Slowly, he lowered himself into a crouch.
“Run away home, lightness.”
He waited until she let herself inside, noting that she took the basket with her. As committed to the justice system as she was, she probably thought she could dust it for prints. The only ones she’d find would be the cook’s or the cashier’s. He hoped she ate the meal, though. She had curves in all the right places, and he’d like to keep it that way. She’d skipped dinner to follow RJ. It wasn’t a habit he wanted to encourage.
Besides, the New Q had some of the best barbecue in town.
“Bon appétit, baby.”
A light went on inside the house. No doubt the doors were locked and the windows were barred. He looked over the mansion. She had a trusty fortress here, one straight out of the early seventies. He ran his thumb across his lower lip. She’d made some modifications, but the security system wasn’t what it should be. What she had was high-tech, but it had holes—primarily the stone fence behind him. It was tall, but someone determined could get over it.
Someone determined like him.
He knew he should leave now that she’d received his message, but he held his position. He’d never come across one of his enemy’s lairs before. It roused his curiosity.
“Hell,” he muttered, rising to full height. Everything about her roused him.
Another light came on, this one on the second floor. His gaze slid up, following the thick vines of ivy that clung to the stone home. What was she doing alone in a big old place like this? It had to ramble and echo around her, and she wasn’t that big of a thing. Where did she hide Luminescence? He’d seen the garage as she’d opened it. There was nothing in there that was fast, dark and sleek.
Luminescence got around town on a three-wheeled motorcycle. Very tough and sexy. Luna Masters drove a plain brown sedan.
He chuckled, the sound funny in his throat. She didn’t fool him.
Unfortunately, he was wrong about that.
The sound of the crackle of electricity caught him first. He was spinning around when the first bolts of energy came his way. Two electrode darts flew at him. There was no time to move, no time to defend. A jolt went through him and his muscles spasmed, out of his control.
Luna stood before him, eyes narrowed and arm thrust out. He couldn’t move his head, but he saw the taser in her hand. Astonishment ran through him nearly as powerful as the amperage.
She’d zapped him.
It was only the special spandex blend of his costume that saved him from going down in a full-body clench. The material spread the energy, preventing it from totally incapacitating his neuromuscular system. Still, the punch it packed was powerful. In the darkness, tiny zaps of lightning spread out over his chest. His cape fluttered back as if trying to fly him away from the attack but, as always, it was his weapon that came to his aid. For once the scythe didn’t strike or draw blood. It just behaved like the metal conductor that it was.
Honed in the fires of Mt. Etna, the indestructible blade acted as a lightning rod. Like moths to the flame, the crackling electricity moved upwards, collecting in the long, curved blade. The handle was made from petrified wood from the Black Forest, but few knew that tungsten embedded in the wood coiled down its length, ending in a metal cap.
One decorated with a skull and crossbones.
The electricity from the taser followed the metal down into the earth, where it became grounded.
Blade of Moonlight: Midnight Justice Page 4