Black and Blue

by Gena Showalter

  Concentrate.

  He and Evie parked their car at the end of a neighborhood street, waiting for their target. Their windows were tinted. No one could see inside, but they could see everything outside. Blue was anxious to get the ball rolling. Apparently, an employee of Star's was supposed to deliver a message to a human named Tyrese Cooper, the owner of the house they were watching.

  "Why hasn't Solo revealed himself to you?" Evie asked, probably to fill the silence. He'd noticed she always cracked after a few minutes, as if she couldn't bear to be alone with her thoughts. "I mean, he knows you're alive. The entire world does."

  Blue had spent a lot of time mulling over that particular question. "Two possible reasons. He thinks he'll draw heat to us, or that we'll draw heat to him."

  "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. I just wish he'd send a text, you know. You deserve a text at the very least."

  She used her hands to punctuate her words.

  Just as she'd done the night he'd met her.

  He wanted to grin. It was as if she'd lost that part of herself, but now it was back.

  But what had brought it back? Blue?

  I want to be the reason.

  "He has-- Car!" Evie said, suddenly eager. "That's gotta be our guy."

  His gaze landed on the SUV easing into Cooper's driveway. After parking, an Arcadian emerged. Oh, yeah. That was Star's man. "Stay here. We don't know what supernatural abilities he possesses."

  Miracle of miracles, she didn't offer an argument. He exited into the light and heat of the day. Just in case anyone was waiting in the SUV, Blue wrapped a stream of power around it, ensuring the doors would stay closed. He also wrapped a stream of power around the Arcadian, trying to hold him in place, but the male easily broke free with his own power, whipped around, and searched for the culprit.

  Their gazes locked. Lavender against lavender.

  At first, the male appeared awestruck. He was seeing football legend Corbin Blue. Then the cogs in his brain started turning, and it was clear he'd realized a football legend would not be here, clearly armed and ready for war.

  The male shot across the lawn, down the street. Super-speed. Blue used his own, following, closing in. Around a corner. Over a parked car. Evading several fake trees.

  They were going around the block, Blue realized. Heading back to Cooper's. Guy planned to jump in his car, most likely, and grab a weapon or phone for backup--because there was no way the SUV could move faster than Blue.

  Cooper's house came into view.

  Closer . . . Blue released a stream of power to trip the male, but he dodged it. Have to pick up speed--

  A shovel came out of nowhere, smashing into the male's chest. He ricocheted backward and landed on the street, air gushing from him in one mighty heave.

  Evie dropped the shovel and withdrew a pyre-gun, aiming the barrel at the wheezing Arcadian. "All right, boys. Playtime is over."

  Gorgeous, wily woman. Blue had never been so happy to see her. "Where'd you get the shovel, boo-boo?"

  Grinning proudly--and ignoring his choice of nicknames for once--she said, "I have all kinds of fun things in the trunk of each of my cars. Pray you never find out firsthand."

  Always prepared. Could she be any sexier?

  Blue heaved his prize over his shoulder and stomped over to the SUV. There was no one inside. They closed in on Cooper's house and didn't bother ringing the bell, just burst inside.

  A startled human sat in a chair in the living room, a bottle of whisky in hand. He was too drunk to care about the invaders.

  "Stay," Evie told him, marching forward.

  He stayed. And waved.

  Blue tossed the Arcadian face-first on the dark shag carpet. He slapped a hand over the otherworlder's mouth, then ran a blade across the backs of his knees, silencing and hobbling him at the same time.

  When the muffled screaming stopped, Blue turned him over and straightened, looking over his opponent. Bright lamplight revealed an otherworlder of average size. Meaning he was bigger than a human but far smaller than Blue. Typical Arcadian white hair and lavender eyes. Skin weathered from the harshness of the earth's sun. Extensively armed. Blue removed each of the weapons.

  "I'm going to ask questions, and you're going to answer or you're going to suffer," Blue said, the seriousness of his tone making the guy shudder. "First up: Why were you sent to this house to see Mr. Cooper?"

  "Message," the Arcadian moaned.

  Good. There would be no messing around. "Tell me."

  "Can't."

  Or maybe there would. Blue raised his knife.

  "I can't tell--I have to show you!" the guy said in a rush.

  "Then show me. Just don't make any sudden moves or you'll lose an appendage."

  Fat tears cascaded down the male's cheeks as he slowly dug into his pocket and withdrew a small IDC. An identification card.

  Blue took it and pressed the button in the center. Inches above it, the air flickered with tiny blue lights, and the Chinese symbol for revenge formed. The same symbol had been painted on the box holding John's ribbons, as well as on the house walls of the seventeen people Star was suspected of abducting.

  When Blue had first seen the symbol in the crime scene photos, he assumed it was either a mistake--too many people had gotten inked with symbols for constipation rather than, say, courage--or that it was meant to be deliberately misleading. What could Star have against all those people? People he wasn't linked to in any other way.

  "Why were you supposed to give this to Mr. Cooper?" Evie demanded, picking up where Blue had left off.

  "I--I don't know," the otherworlder said. "I wasn't told."

  "Have you ever had to deliver this type of message before?" Blue asked.

  "Yes."

  "To whom?"

  The male rattled off a list of names, all of the ones on the abduction list and several that were not. Interesting. Blue would have to check into the others and find out if the individuals were missing and just hadn't been reported, or if something else had happened to them . . . or if nothing nefarious had happened at all.

  "Mr. Cooper," Evie said, her tone gentle now. She crouched in front of the homeowner. "Can you tell us what's going on? Why Gregory Star would want revenge against you?"

  That's when the human began to sob. Great, heaving sobs, with tears and snot and slobber. He spoke, but his words were incoherent.

  They'd get no answers from him anytime soon.

  Evie met Blue's gaze. "Let's take him to Michael and get you to the stadium for your pregame workout or whatever it is you jocks do. Once Mr. Cooper has sobered up, he can be questioned further."

  Blue nodded, then turned his attention to the Arcadian. "Does Mr. Star have a Rakan hidden somewhere in his home?"

  "N-no."

  "Are you lying to me?"

  "No! I haven't seen a Rakan, I swear."

  "Have you heard one?"

  "No!"

  Okay, then. Blue confiscated Evie's pyre-gun and squeezed the trigger. A bright white light lanced to the man's chest, burning through his heart in seconds. He was dead before he had time to panic or scream.

  Blue had been ID'd as an agent. Maybe Star already knew, and didn't care. Maybe he didn't. No reason to take chances, and every reason not to--John could be used against him.

  "You get Mr. Cooper to your father," he said to Evie. "I'll take care of the Arcadian."

  "What about your practice?"

  "I'll be on time, don't worry." Then: "You gonna come to the game tomorrow?" he asked, unable to help himself.

  She closed the distance, took her gun, and peered up at him. "You want me to?"

  He didn't need to think about his answer. "Yeah." He liked the thought of her eyes on him while he kicked ass all over the field.

  The look in those dark, dark eyes softened. "Then I'll be there."

  Sixteen

  EVIE SAT IN THE owner's box at Black Stadium. She had invited Tyson Star, to thank him for renting out the roof of the Sta
r Light Hotel to her the following night, but he'd declined. What was it going to take to meet the guy?

  Secretive cur!

  To place a cherry on top of an E. coli-infested sundae, she hated football. So far, Blue had endured eight major body slams. He had to have a concussion, among ten thousand other injuries. The Strikers were clearly determined to bag and tag him like a mangy animal.

  There was one highlight, however. Blue ran the ball in for the first quarter's only touchdown. She cheered so loud she nearly shattered the armored window in front of her.

  And okay, all right, fine. That wasn't the only highlight. Blue was sexy as hell in his black and gold uniform, and she was beyond turned on.

  Like that's anything new.

  It was just, she'd never met a man like him, and doubted she ever would again. He wasn't just beautiful on the outside, a fallen angel in an otherworlder's skin. Or something out of a fairy tale. Like a prince/villain hybrid. He was beautiful on the inside. He treated her with respect, even when she didn't do the same to him. He protected. He amused.

  She wanted him. Naked. In her bed. Not just for hand play, or oral, but straight-up sex. Hard. Fast. Rough. And then, when the first frantic wave of need was finally sated, she wanted him slow and soft.

  Why wouldn't he give it to her?

  And why did she want it from him and him alone? Why couldn't she just let him go and pick someone else? Tomorrow he might have to do things with Tiffany, in public . . . and in private.

  No. No. Not this time. He hated that part of his job. Hated taking things so far.

  That kind of crap stopped now.

  She wanted him, and he wanted her. Therefore, she would have him--not Tiffany. He could get answers from the girl another way.

  Evie would talk to him. He would either agree, or not. One way or another, she would have a solid answer, and she could decide her next move.

  A one-time seduction . . . or more.

  Because, at the end of the day, she trusted him. And, wow, what a difference a few weeks had made. They'd gone from hate and disgust to . . . whatever this was.

  "I know!" a female voice proclaimed.

  "Just isn't right," another said.

  The voices snagged her attention. Behind her, a gaggle of the players' spouses and girlfriends talked and ran the gamut of emotion. Each female was tall, thin, and gorgeous, dressed in skimpy clothing meant to lure and tempt men famous for their feminine conquests. Somehow all of the girls were the "bestest friends ever."

  Oi. Because Evie graduated so early, the only female friends she'd ever had were Claire and Eden, and as family they'd had to like her. She'd never made a friend on her own. Besides Blue. But he didn't have boobs so he didn't count. The mechanics of female bonding utterly baffled her.

  At least she had the best seat in the box, the only one directly in front of the window. The rest of the women were squeezed behind her in rows of six.

  "The entire situation is just so uncool. But I talked to Pagan last night and she told me they're just taking a break," one of the girls said in a stage whisper.

  "Well, she lied. Her neighbor was interviewed this morning," another replied, using the same loud-hush tone, "and the guy told reporters he heard Blue tell Pagan they were finished forever."

  "So brutal!"

  Evie remembered how terrible Blue felt when it was over. No way he'd been brutal.

  "Good riddance, I say. I never liked her."

  "Me neither. Talk about sleazy. That girl would do anything with a penis. Supposedly, the day after Blue dumped her, she was seen making out with three different guys at Club Joy Ride."

  "I can believe it. I caught her eye-stripping my man once. As if he would ever be desperate enough for the likes of her."

  There was no response, and every moment of silence caused the air to thicken with tension.

  Uh-oh. Bet her man had done Miss Cary at some point.

  "What?" the girl demanded.

  "Uh, nothing. Nothing at all."

  "Well, I think Pagan had every right to seek comfort from other men so quickly. How many times did Blue cheat on her? Countless."

  Evie's hackles rose. These women . . . they didn't know Blue. They didn't know his thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams. They didn't know the situation or what happened behind the scenes. And yet they acted as judge and jury, as if they'd never made a mistake.

  Once, I was just as guilty. But no more.

  Besides, lovers went to Blue with their eyes wide open. They knew what they were getting. He told them. Just like he'll tell me.

  The conversation tapered into another subject, saving her from having to throw a pimp hand around. After a while, even the newest topic lagged into silence. The girls turned their attention to the game. Unfortunately, the reprieve didn't last long.

  "So, Evangeline. It's nice to see you here."

  She turned to meet the gaze of the only redhead, and offered a tight smile. Though the girl's tone was friendly, there was a speculative gleam in her brown eyes. This was a gossip hunt, no question.

  "Thanks." What was Red's name? The girlfriends came and went so frequently, Evie never bothered to learn.

  The speculative gleam deepened. "I feel so bad that so many of the players want out of their contracts now that Michael is gone. I'm sure it has nothing to do with you personally, though. I wouldn't worry."

  What a sweet little backhanded compliment. Passive-aggressive behavior at its finest. Better to combat this head-on. "Anyone wanting out of his contract has only to ask. He'll be cut and replaced within a single day. And, actually, that's why I'm here. Now that I've taken over Black Industries, I want to give the boys a look-see." Then, just to be contrary, she added, "Might be fun to restructure and use new starters, don't you know."

  Red flushed and said nothing else.

  Break time. "Now, if you'll excuse me . . ." Evie stood and walked through the spacious room, past the long L-shaped bar surrounded by multiple padded stools. In the far corner, hidden in the dark wood-paneled walls, was the entrance to a private bathroom. She stepped inside, locked the door, and--even though she told herself not to do it--cranked the volume on the concealed mics in the box, multiple conversations filtering inside as she washed her face. She concentrated on one.

  "--should take bets on Blue's next conquest," Red was saying.

  A catty laugh sounded. "Whoever she is, she'll be blond and stacked."

  Great. Like Evie really needed the reminder about Blue's preference--everything she wasn't!

  "So, what do you think of Evangeline? I've never been a fan. She's such a bit--"

  Okay. Enough of that. She cut the feed.

  Bracing her hands against the sink, she leaned her forehead against the mirror. I'm in way over my head, aren't I?

  Blue could be on the Bedroom Olympic Team.

  Evie had experience. A lot of experience. More than she liked to admit. So much she was ashamed, often trying to hide behind a mask of propriety. I can be honest with everyone but myself. But all of that experience had come before the age of eighteen, when she'd desperately craved male attention. Whatever attention she could get. She'd learned from boys, not men. How was she supposed to seduce someone like Blue?

  Uh, you haven't had trouble so far.

  True. Three encounters with him, three earth-shattering orgasms. But what was it going to take to get Blue to go all the way with her?

  Sighing, she left the confines of the bathroom and settled back in her seat. None of the women spoke to her. Wise.

  Both teams rushed onto the field for the next play. Every member of the Invaders and every member of the Strikers was an otherworlder of some sort. From white-haired Arcadians like Blue, to big and meaty Ell Rollies, to thin and colorful Mecs, to catlike Terrans and Bree Lians, to Viking-like Targons.

  Each race came with different abilities, which made the game a thousand times more dangerous . . . and exciting. There was only one rule. No using super-speed. Otherwise, spectators and refs
wouldn't be able to track what was going on.

  Evie watched the players explode into action, the ball whizzing through the air, some men diving for it, some throwing others halfway across the field. After a particularly nasty tackle, the Arcadian known as "the Mack" shoved Blue, his hands exploding with a ball of light. Blue went soaring backward. A giant Ell Rollie pounded through the men forming a circle of protection around Blue, tackling him. Once again Blue soared backward . . . and yet still he managed to maintain a solid grip on the ball.

  He rolled to his feet and launched into motion, slamming into the Ell Rollie and nearly splitting the man in two.

  The crowd went wild, loving his use of brute force.

  As the male writhed in pain, Blue grinned a cocky grin while lifting the ball and ending the play.

  The third quarter concluded with no touchdowns.

  In the middle of the fourth quarter, the other team finally managed to score, and she could tell Blue was ticked off royally. Then the . . . whatever his title was threw the ball to Blue and Blue threw the ball to . . . no, Blue faked a pass and now ran . . . and ran . . . and ran . . . until the Mack caught up with him. Rather than dodge, Blue grabbed him by the neck, twisted, and flung the limp body to the side. The Mack wasn't dead, but he'd be in pain for days to come.

  Half of the stadium jumped to their feet and clapped as he sprinted . . . across . . . yes! He'd just crossed the finish line.

  The Invaders scored their second touchdown!

  Blue's teammates dog piled on him. Behind Evie, the women whooped and danced.

  The game continued with two more plays, but the opposing team couldn't break through the Invaders' defensive line. When the final buzzer rang out, the Invaders were still ahead.

  Victory belonged to Blue.

  Utter chaos reigned on the field. As the other team jogged away to sulk, the Invaders, their coaches, and the fans closest to the action hurried together, cheering and hugging.

  Blue stood in the middle of the storm, somehow set apart from it. He combed a hand through the pale hair plastered to his scalp. The black streaks painted under his eyes were smeared. Blood streaked his chin.

  White-hot awareness held her in a tight clasp. He'd never looked more rugged.

  He's mine.

  For right now, at least.