“Because I’m smarter than you. Anyway, they gotta complete a mission on their own before I can officially offer them a place on my team.”
“What do we got on the chopping block? And by the way, I’m smarter than you. My IQ is off the charts, man.”
If the chart only reached fifty, then yeah. No need to tax his poor brain with numbers, though. Silent, she let her head fall against the back of her chair and stared up at the ceiling. They were inside her new office, and she’d had the panels painted blue and white, a replica of the sky, to help with her claustrophobia. This way, she could pretend she was lying on the ground in her spacious backyard with Kyrin resting beside her.
“McKell,” she finally said, thinking of the latest case to hit her desk.
“Ouch,” Dallas said. “Dousing the girls in gasoline and throwing them straight into the fire.”
“I know.”
“Poor McKell, though.”
Poor girls. McKell was a vampire warrior able to stop time in short bursts, do his damage with no one the wiser, then restart the clock, leaving the raging flames of hell in his wake. His own people had kicked him out of their underground world for being “unstable.” The term amused her—the man had slaughtered hundreds of vampires for daring to lock him up for a few days. Unstable? Try psychotic.
AIR wanted to talk to him about his actions. Preferably alive. But no one had been able to bring him in. In fact, Mia had sent three top-of-the-line agents to apprehend him—bastard wasn’t even trying to hide—and he’d sent all three back with severe blood loss, missing fingers, and brain damage. Fine. The agents had been brain damaged before encountering McKell, but then, weren’t all men?
Exhibit A: Dallas.
Maybe Ava and Noelle would have better luck. Besides, it was a scientific fact that females always outperformed males. And who was she to mess with science?
Sure, Jaxon and thereby Mishka would kick up a fit when they heard Little Miss Cousin would be going after a vampire, but Mia didn’t exactly care. Bring on the spoons, bitch. But maybe she’d send the couple on a prolonged vacay, just in case. Plus, it wouldn’t do for Jaxon to give the girls a helping hand. And he would. He wouldn’t be able to help himself, and that would do a lot of damage to their street cred. The girls were moving up the ladder fast, so they had a lot to prove—on their own—or none of the other agents would ever take them seriously.
And if the girls did this, if they brought in the big bad, no one would be able to question Mia’s decision to advance them rather than incarcerate them. Even better, Ava and Noelle might just think hunting and capturing a rabid vampire was a good time.
“Prep them without telling them why they were chosen or what’s at stake, and send them out.” That way, they’d work this case the same way they worked the rest of their cases, without putting on a dog-and-pony show trying to impress her, and Mia could discover just how much determination those “rough” girls possessed.
Dallas snickered.
Mia blinked over at him, confused. “What?”
“You said ‘stake,’ and they’re going after a vampire. Get it? Stake … a vampire? Like in old books and movies.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a child.”
“And you’re a jealous old woman because you didn’t think of it yourself. Said with affection, of course.”
“I’m a year younger than you, jackass. Said with annoyance.”
“Yeah, but you’re only younger physically.”
Brain. Damaged. She liked the morose Dallas better, she decided. “Have you forgotten that you’re wanted by a diseased alien queen, your best friend is busy with his wife, and you’re Kyrin’s blood slave?”
Dallas flipped her off, but his grin never faded.
Maybe she wasn’t on top of her game, because she automatically returned that grin with one of her own.
“You love me, you know you do,” he said confidentially.
True.
“Seriously. You’re like my mom, and I’m like your favorite son. No matter what I do or say, you’ll always think I’m adorable.”
Mia stood and leaned over the desk. She crooked her finger at him as if she had a secret to share. He, too, leaned forward, eager to learn that secret—poor, brain-damaged kid—and she punched him in the nose. “There. Now I’m like the mom who keeps her stupid shithead in line with a firm hand.”
He laughed as blood trickled down his lips and chin. “See. Rough.”
And he thought Ava and Noelle were worse than her? Good. Then by the time those two were done, McKell might just wish he’d decorated himself with bows and walked into AIR headquarters on his own.
Two
He never stopped sharpening his blade.
Ava Sans watched her target from a few feet away and tried not to drool. Key word: tried. He sat on a large rock in the middle of a government-owned forest. A forest he didn’t have permission to be in. Clearly, following rules wasn’t his thing. Bless his heart, as her mother used to say about anyone in need of spiritual guidance. “Anyone,” of course, had meant everyone. Which had been ironic, since her mother hadn’t been sober a day in her life.
Concentrate. Golden moonlight framed the target’s back, and a crackling fire illuminated his front. He had pale skin and a face that proved God had an A game. And why the good Lord would have chosen to deviate from that formula and create other faces, she would never know. If everyone looked like this man—like fevered whispers in the dark, forbidden chocolate, and sin in its most tempting incarnation—crime would have ceased long ago. Or maybe never even started. Everyone would have been too busy staring at themselves in the mirror to fight. Or maybe they’d be too busy bedding themselves to even stare in the mirror.
Seriously. That face was flawless. Everyone always talked about how perfect Dallas Gutierrez was, but this man … His forehead wasn’t too long or short, his nose was wonderfully straight, his cheekbones delightfully sharp, and his chin magnificently square.
His bottom lip was plumper than his top, but both were pink and utterly nibbleable. Was that even a word? Anyway. Vivid violet eyes were framed by long feathering lashes, and his black-as-night hair boasted the slightest wave. His shoulders were wide and his body thick, built for war. Which just happened to be her favorite body type; muscles equaled delicious.
In seconds, she’d memorized every detail about him. For the job. Of course. But the best thing about him, besides that devastating beauty? He wore a necklace made of bones. Human finger bones, from the looks of them. Which meant the case of the missing AIR agent phalanges was solved, at least.