Dark Descendant

SIX

He was not one of Anderson’s people. He was a complete stranger to me, and the warm smile that curved his lips as he looked me up and down did nothing to ease my instant, instinctive dislike.

Many women would find him handsome. I supposed that objectively he was—tall, nicely muscled, manly square jaw softened by dimples when he smiled, and lovely gray-blue eyes. But the way he carried himself reminded me of every arrogant, entitled, self-centered country club asshole Steph had ever introduced me to, all rolled up into one pretty package.

I considered trying to walk past him, but the look in his eye told me he had no intention of letting me ignore him. There was nothing overtly threatening about him, but my gut was screaming “danger, danger” even so. I’d ignored my gut instincts last night, and look where it had gotten me.

“What do you want?” I growled at the stranger.

He blinked in what I suspected was surprise. I bet that smile of his had charmed every woman he’d ever used it on, but I was made of sterner stuff.

The smile flickered for a moment, then came back at full force as he took a step toward me. “My name is Alexis Colonomos,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

Instead of shaking his hand, I stepped backward, trying to keep a safe distance between us. I had no idea what a safe distance might be, however. Despite my recent skepticism, I had no doubt Alexis Colonomos would turn out to have supernatural powers of some sort.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, making no attempt to sound like I meant it. “Now what do you want?”

The smile flickered again, and his eyes narrowed in what might have been anger as he let his hand fall back to his side. When he put the smiley face back on, it had lost some of its wattage, and there was a hard glint in his eye that suggested he was a man used to getting what he wanted.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” he said, and there was an edge in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “And have a little talk.” He gestured toward the open door of the Mercedes.

“If you think I’m going to get into a car with a total stranger, you’re nuts.” I took another step back, prepared to turn and bolt if he made a hostile move.

He didn’t, but his smile lost even more wattage, until it started to look more like a snarl. “You’re Liberi,” he said from between gritted teeth. What were the chances he and Maggie would use the same unusual term to describe what I apparently was if it were all some freaky cult delusion? Yet another nail in the coffin of denial. “I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to.” And everything about his body language said he wanted to very much.

Personally, I didn’t think I’d been rude enough to warrant the level of hostility that radiated from this guy, but based on the behavior I’d witnessed last night, either it didn’t take much to set a Liberi off, or I just had a natural knack for it.

“You can’t kill me,” I clarified, though I felt ridiculous making the claim. It was one thing to almost kind of believe it, and quite another to truly accept it. “That doesn’t mean you can’t hurt me.” I’d seen evidence enough of that last night.

The smile turned into a sneer. “Cowardice isn’t becoming to a Descendant of Artemis.”

I guess I was supposed to be so insulted by the suggestion I was a coward that I would meekly climb into the car. “There’s a difference between cowardice and caution,” I told him. “If you want to talk to me, then do it. If you don’t want to do it standing here in the street, then offer to buy me a cup of coffee. I might take you up on it.”

Maybe the smartest thing for me to have done was to turn around and run away. The vibe I was getting off this guy was anything but friendly. But I didn’t know what he wanted from me, and I wasn’t sure that ignorance was bliss. Plus, I had no idea how he’d found me. Even if he was some friend of Anderson’s—a friend I’d never seen hanging around the mansion—he shouldn’t have been able to locate me when I was nowhere near any of my usual stomping grounds.

Obviously, he could find me, and if I ran off now, he’d probably be even less friendly the next time he did. Which was why I was prepared to at least listen to what he had to say.

“Then may I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked, and it looked like it physically hurt him to concede.

“I’d love one. How ’bout we head over to that diner?” I pointed at a greasy spoon on the opposite side of the street. It was doing a brisk business, so I figured it had good bad food and served bottomless cups of coffee.

Alexis looked at the place and curled his lip in disdain. I pegged him for the kind of guy who thought he was slumming it if he ate in a restaurant that charged less than five bucks for a cup of coffee. “Fine,” he said, then slammed the door of the Mercedes with more force than necessary.

I hate sore losers.

I kept just enough space between us to be out of arm’s reach as we crossed the street and headed to the diner. He probably wasn’t going to try anything in broad daylight, in front of tons of witnesses, but you can never be too careful.

When he reached the diner, he pushed the door open and held it for me. It meant I had to brush by him to get inside, and I didn’t like it. I reminded myself once again that he wouldn’t dare try anything on a crowded street. His expression darkened as he noticed my hesitation, but I went inside before he could make an issue of it.

A waitress was clearing a table for two just as we walked in the door. The hostess directed us to that table with a wave of her hand, and we slid into the booth in silence while the waitress gathered up the remains of the previous patrons’ meal.

“Be right back,” she said with a distracted smile, then carried her loaded tray to the kitchen. As far as I could see, there was only one other waitress in the whole place, which explained why they were both moving so fast and looked so wild-eyed.

There were crumbs all over the place, and a smear of ketchup looking rather like a bloodstain threatened to drip over the edge and onto my lap. I grabbed a napkin from the dispenser to wipe it away, watching Alexis surreptitiously as I did. His lip remained curled in that singularly disdainful sneer, and his arms were crossed over his chest as if he were trying to minimize contact between himself and the diner. To say he looked out of place was an understatement. No one else was even wearing a dress shirt, much less a suit and tie.

The waitress came back and wiped off our table with a damp rag, but she had a harried look and wasn’t very careful about it. A couple of crumbs tumbled off the table and onto Alexis’s lap. His face reddened and his eyes sparked and I thought sure he was about to make a big scene. He restrained himself, however, and settled for staring daggers at her. It was all I could do not to smile.

Have I mentioned that this guy rubbed me the wrong way?

“What can I get you?” the waitress asked, pulling out her pen and order pad without making eye contact.

“Two cups of coffee, please,” I said, because I was afraid that if Alexis opened his mouth he was going to be a total asshole.

“Anything else?”

“That’ll do it,” I said, and Alexis didn’t contradict me. I suspected he’d rather starve to death than eat anything served at this place.

She was walking away before the last word left my mouth. If I couldn’t see with my own two eyes how overworked she was, I’d have thought she was being rude.

I leaned back in my seat and eyed the dangerous-looking Liberi who sat across from me. I got the distinct impression that he’d been planning to charm me when he’d stepped out of that car, but I figured my attitude had killed that plan by now. Maybe I shouldn’t have come on so strong right from the start, but I had a right to be grumpy after everything that had happened.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” I asked as the waitress put two ceramic cups on the table and filled them with dark-as-pitch coffee. She reached into her apron and pulled out a handful of creamers, leaving them in a pile in the center of the table. She opened her mouth—I think she was going to ask if we needed anything else—but shut it again when she saw the forbidding expression on Alexis’s face. He waited until she’d walked away to answer me.

“You’re new in town,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

I raised my eyebrows as I took a sip of coffee. “I am?”

He frowned at me, dark eyebrows forming a severe V. “You have to be. You’re not one of ours, and you’re not one of Anderson’s.” He said Anderson’s name with another one of those little sneers of his.

I sipped my coffee, wishing I’d been able to believe Maggie last night so I could have asked her a lot more questions. There was a hell of a lot I didn’t know about being a Liberi. For instance, I had no idea what Alexis was talking about when he referred to “one of ours.” Nor did I have any idea what—if anything—I should tell him about myself.

“Let’s say for the sake of argument that I am new in town. What’s it to you?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and pushing his untouched coffee out of the way. “You’d best have a care how you talk to me,” he said in a menacing whisper that carried just fine even in the noisy diner. “Descendants of Artemis are rare, and therefore valuable to us, but that will protect you only so far.”

Ah, we’d reached the threat-making stage of the conversation. I’d had a feeling this was coming. Maybe if I hadn’t just had the scariest night of my life, I’d have been more intimidated. Maybe it would have been smart to be more intimidated.

I let my hand slide under the table and smiled broadly—not the reaction Alexis was hoping for, if his scowl was anything to go by. “You know what I was doing before you ambushed me?” I asked, keeping my body language completely relaxed as I unzipped the front compartment of my backpack. I rested my hand lightly on the .38 Special. “I was at a gun range, polishing my skills. Turns out I’m a very good shot. Feel like giving me some more target practice?”

I had no intention of actually shooting the guy, or even taking the gun out. I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to shoot a person in the heat of battle, much less in cold blood, and I sure as hell wasn’t waving a gun around in a crowded D.C. diner. Felony charges and a prison stay would not improve my situation. But part of being a good P.I. is being a good actress.

I was a good P.I.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled at me.

I blinked at him innocently. “I wouldn’t? How the hell would you know that? You don’t even know my name, do you?” I’d seen no reason to introduce myself, and if he’d already known my name, I suspected he’d have flaunted the knowledge by now. “I could be sweet as sunshine or a total psycho bitch for all you know.”

I leaned forward till I was almost nose-to-nose with him, meeting his glare with a good bit of steel. “Back the hell off, or you’re going to find out the hard way,” I said as I cocked the gun, making as much noise about it as possible. The diner was kind of noisy, but not so much that Alexis couldn’t hear and recognize the sound.

I got the feeling Alexis desperately wanted to come across the table at me, but he just sat there glaring instead. Then his gaze flicked to something over my shoulder, and his eyes widened.

It was a classic distraction technique, but I couldn’t help taking a peek over my shoulder anyway.

Alexis hadn’t been trying to trick me. Standing in the doorway, giving me a decidedly neutral look, was Blake.

The hostess—who had to be pushing fifty—was giving him goo-goo eyes, and practically every adult female in the place, not to mention a few men, were surreptitiously looking him over. There’s nothing like a well-built pretty-boy to get the hormones working overtime.

Blake ignored all of them—even the hostess, who was trying to direct him to an open seat at the counter—and started toward our table. I uncocked the gun, then scooted over in my seat so I could have the wall at my back while keeping an eye on both men.

Blake had been only slightly less hostile than Jamaal last night, but he was barely paying attention to me today. He and Alexis engaged in a hot and heavy alpha-male staring contest. I could practically smell the testosterone in the air, even over the bacon grease and coffee. I’d have liked to get out from between them, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.

When Blake reached the table, he casually leaned against my side of the booth, never taking his eyes off Alexis.

“She’s one of ours,” Blake said, his voice as challenging as his stare. “Tell Konstantin to mind his own business.”

Konstantin? Who the hell was Konstantin? And what was this “one of ours” crap?

Alexis raised his eyebrows. “If she’s one of yours, then why are you letting her wander around the city unaccompanied before notifying Konstantin about her?”

“Get out. And leave her alone.”

I’d have snapped at Blake for trying to protect the “little woman,” only I wasn’t sure that was what he was trying to do. It felt more like he was claiming his territory.

“I don’t answer to you,” Alexis countered. “And if she really belonged to Anderson, I’m sure she would have mentioned the fact by now.”

“For the record,” I said, though I wondered if drawing attention to myself was a bad idea, “I don’t belong to anybody, especially you assholes.”

Both men ignored me.

Blake shrugged. “Anderson has already decided she belongs to him. He sent me to fetch her, so that’s what I’m doing. You have a problem with that, take it up with him.”

Still barely sparing me a glance, Blake reached out and grabbed my arm in a bruising grip. I, of course, tried to pull away. But he was damn strong.

Alexis leaned forward, putting both his hands on the tabletop, his eyes practically glowing with menace. “Let go of her and get the fuck out of here, or you’ll be sorry,” he growled. “Konstantin wants to talk to her, and only a fool would get in his way.”

Blake let go of my arm and smiled. He, too, leaned forward and put his hands on the table. He was crowding my personal space, but he was doing the same to Alexis. If this went much further, people around us were going to notice and try to break it up or call the cops.

I was considering how I might bring the tension down a notch when I felt a change in the air. The diner suddenly felt about ten degrees hotter, and the crowd and traffic noise became muted and dull.

Blake ran his tongue over those full, sensual lips of his, and even though I’d never been particularly attracted to him, I felt a tug of desire in my nether regions. My pulse kicked up and my breath hitched. The air filled with the musky scent of sex, and I pressed my thighs together in hopes of erasing the ache that had built without warning.

Across from me, Alexis’s eyes darkened, and his mouth fell open. His breaths came in excited little puffs, and sweat dewed his face. The look he was giving Blake screamed of something very different from anger, and I’d bet anything he was sporting quite a tent pole under the table.

“Don’t ever forget who I am,” Blake said in a chilling croon as he leaned in even closer to Alexis. “Zeus’s line may be powerful, but even Zeus was helpless against Eros. Unless you’d like me to take you into the men’s room and fuck you till you scream for mercy, you’d better go tell Konstantin that this one is ours. Understand?”

Whatever Blake had been doing, he stopped abruptly. The temperature dropped, the musky scent evaporated, and the crowd noise returned to normal.

Across the table from me, Alexis recoiled, his back slamming against the backrest as he tried to put distance between himself and Blake. There was a wild look in his eyes, the lust that had been there only moments ago completely gone.

“Konstantin would have your balls for a trophy if you tried it,” Alexis whispered, but though that was supposed to sound like a threat, it wasn’t very effective when his face was so white, and his eyes so wide.

Blake smiled easily. “Wouldn’t do you any good, now would it? Besides, you’d have to tell him what happened, and I don’t see you admitting it. Now get out. If you’re still here when I’ve counted to five, we’ll be partying in the men’s room, and that’s a promise.”

Alexis made a hasty exit before Blake got to two.

I’d have liked nothing better than to follow Alexis’s example, but I was under no illusion that Blake would let me go that easily. He slid into the booth across from me. He beckoned to the harried waitress, and she stopped everything to bring him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Would you really have done it?” I found myself asking, not sure why I cared one way or another.

“Hell yes,” he answered with a sharklike grin as he poured an indecent amount of sugar into his cup. “I’ve always hated that holier-than-thou bastard. He’d have loved every minute of it, too, until his head cleared.”

I sure as hell didn’t like Alexis, but I couldn’t help thinking that what Blake had planned to do to him was downright evil. I guess that thought must have shown on my face.

“Oh, please. Don’t feel sorry for him,” Blake said. “The Olympians have embraced rape and torture as a goddamn art form, and he’s totally on board with that. As long as he’s not the victim, of course.”

“The Olympians?”

“A bunch of descendants of Greek gods. They envision themselves as some kind of master race. They also consider themselves to be the ruling body for all the Liberi.” He flashed me a sarcastic smile. “Not all of us see it that way.”

“And who’s Konstantin?”

“Their leader. He styles himself as their king, but I refused to call him that even when I was an Olympian. I’m sure as hell not going to call him that now.”

My mind boiled with an endless stream of questions. I settled for the one I decided was of most immediate importance. “How did you find me? And how did he find me?”

Blake leaned back in his seat. “I’m guessing he found you because their Oracle had a vision. And before you ask, the Oracle is a descendant of Apollo, and she sometimes sees the future. Most of her visions are so vague and confusing you can’t understand what they mean until whatever it is has already happened. But every once in a while, she sees something clearly.”

I nodded, swallowing my skepticism for the millionth time. “That doesn’t explain how you found me.”

He smiled and didn’t answer. He was definitely being less hostile now than he had been last night, but there was a hint of malice in his eyes; he wanted the mystery of how he had found me to creep me out. Unfortunately, I was giving him exactly what he wanted.

“All right,” I said, trying not to show my discomfort, “why did you find me?”

“Anderson promised you a follow-up conversation, remember?”

I had a feeling my effort to hide the chill that ran through me was in vain.

“Jack merely delayed the inevitable when he pulled his juvenile little trick and snuck you out,” Blake continued. “I’ll give you a ride back to the house. You’ll be safer there anyway. It’s off-limits to the Olympians.”

Another conversation with Anderson was not on my to-do list, and no matter how much I’d disliked Alexis, I couldn’t imagine feeling “safer” at Anderson’s mansion. “What if I decide to decline your generous offer?”

“I know you caught the edge of my aura when I used it against Alexis,” he said, his nostrils flaring as if he scented my weakness. “The effect would be a hell of a lot more intense if I directed it at you. You’d follow me anywhere, begging me to fuck you. I wouldn’t do it, but I’d magnanimously offer to let you suck my cock during the ride to the house. You’d have a grand ol’ time.” He smiled pleasantly.

I was sick and tired of being scared. The threat made my stomach do flip-flops, but I did my best not to let my face show it. “Is threatening people with rape your answer to every problem?”

“I do find it’s remarkably effective,” he responded with a dry edge in his voice. “And it’s far less ostentatious than grabbing you and dragging you kicking and screaming out the door.”

I hated being bullied, but I didn’t have much choice but to give in—for the moment. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s go see Anderson.”

Blake fixed me with a long, penetrating stare. I had a feeling he knew I wasn’t the type to give up so easily. I gave him my best innocent look. I had no intention of setting foot within ten miles of Anderson and his Hand of Doom, but I didn’t want to give Blake an excuse to practice his unique method of coercion on me. I’d never realized sex could be so effectively weaponized.

I don’t know if my feigned innocence convinced Blake, or if he merely decided he was in too strong a position for me to give him trouble. Whatever the reason, he slipped out of the booth, and I was mildly surprised to see him throw a ten-dollar bill on the table. He hadn’t struck me as the generous type, but not only was he paying for my coffee—and Alexis’s—he was leaving the waitress a sizeable tip. He reached for my arm as I stood up, but I quickly danced out of reach.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” I warned. “I’m coming with you peacefully, but you touch me and all bets are off.”

He gave me one of his malicious grins. My threat was an empty one when he could use his creepy power to force me to come along, but I didn’t want him touching me if I could help it. Getting away from him was going to be hard enough without having to break free of his grasp.

My threat might have had no teeth, but Blake didn’t try to grab me again. He led me out of the diner and onto K Street, keeping a careful eye on me. I hoped he wasn’t parked too close, because I needed some time to come up with an escape plan. The gun was in my backpack, so even if I were willing to wave it around on a crowded street, I couldn’t. He was walking close enough that I doubted I’d have the foot-speed to just bolt and hope to outrun him. Which meant I needed a distraction of some kind. Something to keep him busy long enough to give me a sizeable head start.

I scanned the streets and sidewalks for something that could help. Finally, I caught sight of two tough-looking black guys leaning against a wall as they eyed Blake’s approach. Both were big and imposing, and at just the right age to be eager to prove their manhood. There was a predatory light in their eyes as they looked Blake up and down.

Like I said, Blake was a pretty boy, his hair moussed to look casually tousled, his clothes obviously expensive. The classic metrosexual. To a bigoted young punk looking for trouble, “metrosexual” meant “gay.” Despite the fact that he’d used his aura against Alexis, I was pretty sure Blake didn’t swing that way.

Blake didn’t seem to notice the punks, not even when one of them whistled at him and the other made kissy noises. From their body language, I doubted they were planning to do anything more than harass Blake, unless he was hot-headed enough to engage with them. But I suspected they would be just the kind of distraction I needed.

I looked straight ahead, pretending not to pay any attention to them. There was a dangerous glitter in Blake’s eyes, one that said he was seriously considering stopping to teach the punks some manners. I didn’t know if he had any powers beyond lust, but I suspected he was more than a match for these two, despite appearances. I also suspected he was going to control his aggressive urges, knowing full well that I’d make a run for it if he tried anything. So I decided to take the choice out of his hands.

Timing my move carefully, I waited until we were just a couple feet short of the punks. Then I slung my backpack off my shoulder and swung it as hard as I could at Blake’s back.

Since I hadn’t wanted to leave my expensive laptop sitting around the hotel, there was plenty of oomph behind the blow. Blake grunted in surprise as he flew forward—right into the two punks.

I didn’t wait to see what happened. I whirled around, shoving my arms back into the straps of my backpack, then ran for all I was worth. There was a lot of yelling behind me, but I ignored it, my arms and legs pumping for maximum speed. I probably should have dropped the backpack so it wouldn’t slow me down, but it had my wallet, my gun, and my laptop in it, and I wasn’t willing to part with it.

I whipped around the nearest corner, sneaking a glance behind me as I turned. One of the punks punched Blake right on that luscious mouth of his, but it didn’t seem to bother him much. He shoved the guy away hard enough to send him to the pavement.

I kept running at top speed. There was a parking garage a few yards ahead of me and another street a few yards past that. If Blake managed to get away from the punks—which I suspected he would soon, if he hadn’t already—he was going to catch up with me quickly. I’m a relatively fast runner given my size, but at five-two, my stride is pretty short.

I ducked into the garage, hoping Blake would assume I’d run all the way to the corner before turning.

My breath was coming in frantic gasps, the muscles in my legs burning like hell. There was a fair amount of activity on the ground level of the garage, people cruising for spaces or trying to remember where they’d parked. A few of them glanced at me curiously as I blew past, but no one seemed particularly alarmed.

The muscles in my legs complained even more as I forced them to carry me up the ramp to the next level of the garage. I was still hoping Blake would run right past the place, but with my luck these days, I wasn’t counting on it. If he found me, he could use his special power to force me to go with him, right under the noses of any number of witnesses, and they would never know anything was wrong. I, however, would need my gun to defend myself, and that meant getting away from potential witnesses.

There were fewer cars on the second level, but there was still enough activity that I didn’t dare draw the gun.

My pace wasn’t much faster than a brisk walk as I forced myself onward, climbing the ramp to the third level. There were only a handful of cars up there, and no people.

Finally allowing myself to slow down, I examined my options as I sucked in air. If Blake managed to follow me up here, I’d pretty much run myself into a corner, but that wasn’t entirely by accident. Best to be in a place where I could keep an eye on all the entrances.

There was a bank of elevators to my right, and a stairwell to my left, but other than the ramp, those appeared to be the only two ways up to this level. If Blake was following me, he’d have to use the ramp, otherwise it would be too easy for him to go right past me in the enclosed stairwell or the elevator.

I crossed the garage at a halfhearted trot, my legs feeling like they weighed about ten tons each. I can jog for miles if I have to, but the all-out sprint with the extra weight of the backpack had exhausted me.

When I reached the cluster of cars near the stairwell, I ducked down between them and crept forward until I was crouched between one car’s bumper and the wall. I then quietly unzipped my pack and pulled out the gun. If Blake cornered me up here, I’d have to find the guts to shoot him. I didn’t want to shoot him, but I doubted I’d have a lot of options if he found me. I couldn’t risk letting him use his nasty special power on me.

I crouched in the shadow of the car for what felt like forever, my body practically vibrating with tension. The day wasn’t particularly cold, but the air still felt icy against my sweaty skin. I was finally beginning to catch my breath after the long run, but my heart was still tripping on adrenaline.

It was all I could do not to groan when I saw Blake’s silhouette as he stalked through a patch of sunlight. Goddammit! Why couldn’t he have just kept on running? Or better yet, given up the chase? I should theoretically have had enough of a head start that I could be anywhere by now, so why was he here?

I carefully slid over so that I was in the deepest pool of shadow available. I kept my entire body hidden behind one front wheel—the driver hadn’t bothered to straighten out once he’d pulled in, so the wheel gave me a gratifying amount of cover—and peeked from under the bumper to monitor Blake’s progress as he approached.

He was moving slowly, staring at something in his hand. At first, I had no idea what he was doing, but when he got closer, I could see he was looking at the screen of a phone. I didn’t think he was checking his email or surfing the Internet.

I mentally let out a stream of curses as I remembered Jack handing me my pocketbook. The purse itself had been ruined, but when I’d gotten home, I’d transferred its contents into my backpack. Evidence suggested there’d been something in that purse that wasn’t mine. Like, say, some kind of tracking device.

I was sure the jig was up, but even so, I remained stubbornly hidden. Blake was so close now I could see the thin, angry line of his lips, and the dangerous intensity of his eyes. He stood at the top of the ramp and turned a full circle, looking back and forth between the phone screen and his surroundings.

Maybe the smart thing to do would have been to leap to my feet the moment his back was turned and fire. I would have to take Maggie’s word for it that he was immortal and I couldn’t kill him by shooting him. I urged myself to do it, picturing myself as an action movie heroine blasting away, but the mental picture was so absurd it almost made me laugh.

It would have taken at least an hour for me to talk myself into shooting, and I had about two seconds. Blake had finished his circle before I’d gotten through preliminary arguments. I thought sure the tracker was going to lead him straight to me, but he just stood there, scowling and shaking his head in frustration.

Blake hit a button on his phone, then held it to his ear. I took a wild guess that he was calling Anderson, and that guess was confirmed by the conversation I overheard.

“She’s in here somewhere,” he said into the phone. “Or at least her bag is. The tracker can’t tell me which floor she’s on. Jack gave you a cell phone number for her, didn’t he?”

Oh, shit! My heart shot into my throat, and I reached for my backpack. I tried to hurry, but I was hampered by having to hold on to the gun and by having to be quiet. If I just yanked open the zipper, that sound would give me away just as effectively as the stupid cell phone.

I didn’t make it.

Before I’d even gotten the zipper halfway open, my cell phone played the opening riff of George Thorogood’s “Bad to the Bone.” It had been Steph’s idea of a joke, but I kinda liked it. At least under normal circumstances.

There was no point in hiding anymore, so I stood up and pointed the gun at Blake, praying that no one else would come along and become an inconvenient witness. I’d be in deep trouble if I got caught carrying a gun. Blake’s expression was somewhere between a sneer and a grin. I guess the lighting was kind of dim and he didn’t see the gun at first. When he did, the grin disappeared.

Half a second later, heat suffused my body. My nipples hardened to aching peaks, moisture flooded my core, and my eyes started to glaze over.

The effect was almost instantaneous. One moment, I was staring down the barrel of my gun trying to work up the nerve to pull the trigger, the next, I wanted to fling the gun to the ground and tear off my clothes. I had only an instant to realize what was happening before I was under his spell, but that was enough.

Desperation gave me the will I needed, and my finger squeezed the trigger.

The tide of lust stopped as fast as it had started, and my vision cleared as Blake clutched the bleeding wound in his chest, gave me a wide-eyed look, and fell to the floor of the garage.