Finally, last night, Dallas had seen this very scene unfold: Mia pacing his bedroom, prompting him to hurry. And now, here she was. Pacing.
“Hurry,” she demanded.
He stilled, cringed, gazed down at the guns and knives lying on his bed. Another chuckle. He should have locked Jaxon up. Should have killed Le’Ace as instinct urged. Regrets sucked.
“She’s going to get him killed,” he said softly.
“Or do the deed herself.” Mia raked a hand through her hair. “But he won’t listen to reason. You’ve seen the way he is with her.”
“Why didn’t I take her down when I had the chance?”
“Because you love Jaxon and that would have hurt him.” Sighing, she plopped on the edge of the mattress.
“Yeah.” Goddamn it, yeah. “Did you see her face when he arrived? She was cold as ice for three days, then he shouts her name and I would have sworn I saw love and tenderness in her eyes.”
“Merely a trick,” Mia scoffed as she lifted his gun and checked the detonation chamber for him. A beam of light hit the center crystal, shining bright rainbow beams in every direction before she rotated the stone to lock it in place. “That woman isn’t capable of love, I promise you.”
“Why didn’t you kill her, then?”
“I’m a softy, that’s why.”
He chuckled, and this time there was true amusement in the sound. “Yeah, I’ve always thought that about you.”
She drew in a breath, slowly released it. “Look, I knew he’d hate me if I did it without first proving how despicable she really is. I tried to do that. I told him stuff I’ve never told anyone else. I told him about the list.”
“Let’s show it to him.”
“Like that will help. He doesn’t listen anymore, doesn’t care. The only brain he’s using is the one inside Little Jaxon, and it’s not too bright.”
Dallas sheathed the serrated blade at his waist and faced his best friend. “Could I be seeing the vision wrong?” Only recently had Mia admitted to him that she herself suffered from visions. So if anyone could help him, it was Mia.
A few months ago, she had predicted the death of one of her friends.
Unfortunately, Dallas had been the one to die. He’d been resuscitated, of course, and then given Kyrin’s blood. All of which had changed his life. And now, here I am, in the same predicament Mia once found herself in.
He knew one of his friends was going to die, but didn’t know how to stop it. At least he knew which friend.
“No,” she finally said. “They always come true. That’s never stopped me from trying to stop them, though. Kyrin, too. A few weeks ago, he dreamed I would fall into a freshly dug grave and break my ankle, so he actually paid men to visit every funeral held and stand guard. But he didn’t count on kids going into the cemetery and having a little fun. I chased them, fell. Kyrin was pissed.”
“I didn’t know you broke your ankle.”
She shrugged. “I heal just as quickly as you now.”
Did that mean she’d ingested Kyrin’s blood or that she was becoming more alien every day? He shoved away the question. Didn’t matter, really, because he’d love her no matter what. Right now, Jaxon mattered. Keeping him alive mattered.
“Why do we have the visions if we can’t use them to our advantage?” he asked, sliding the last knife into the side of his boot.
She looked up at him, grim. “I wish I knew.”
“We have to have them for a reason. I can’t believe otherwise.”
“So what are you going to do?” Frowning, Mia handed him the pyre-gun and pushed to her feet.
“Le’Ace can’t shoot him if she’s dead. So I’m going to do what I should have done in the beginning.” Determination rushed through him, as hot and dark as his earlier foreboding. “I’m going to kill her first. And I won’t let the thought of Jaxon’s hatred stop me this time.”
While Jaxon’s SUV wound along New Chicago’s streets, Mishka hooked his cell unit to her favorite toy, an isotonic receptor. The first locked on Nolan’s voice, providing his location, and the second locked on his muscular contractions and the heat each movement generated, the isotonic dye pulsing like a heartbeat. Now, whether he was silent, invisible, and/or still, she’d have his location pinpointed.
“Five minutes,” she said, “and we’ll be right on top of him. He’s stopped moving.”
Jaxon leaned back in his seat and stared up at the car’s roof, pondering. “Wonder what he’s doing, if he’s meeting anyone.” He’d jerked on a T-shirt before they’d left, covering his gorgeous chest.
“Our staying away was probably a good thing. He’s nervous by nature, and being cut off from physical contact with us probably forced his hand. Now he’ll reveal his true intentions. Betray us or drop his brothers in our laps.”
Jaxon flicked her a grim glance. “Either way, he has to die.”
“I know.” Surprisingly enough, Mishka thought she’d miss the otherworlder. He reminded her a lot of herself, searching for something, craving something he shouldn’t have, for having it meant destroying it. Nolan with disease, Mishka with what? Not Estap, not anymore. Destroy Jaxon by dying during surgery?
You’re going to kill Jaxon, Dallas had told her.
She couldn’t shake the prediction from her mind. Even before she’d known what Jaxon had done for her, she had been unwilling to hurt him. He was her reason for breathing, her reason for living.
She’d once thought about allowing herself to be killed once this case was finished. Had prepared for it, even, to save Jaxon. Now she didn’t have to. Senator Kevin Estap no longer controlled her. She was her own woman, made her own decisions. Only problem was, little worries were now popping up.
Could Jaxon be happy with her, long-term? What if she couldn’t give him everything that he wanted, needed?
“Do you want children?” The words blurted from her before she could stop them.
His brow furrowed in confusion. “You just threw me. Do I want children to what?”
“Never mind.” She pretended to busy herself with the IR. “That was a dumb question.”
A moment passed in heavy silence.
God, I’m stupid. Of course he wanted children. All men did. They wanted their family line to continue. And while Mishka could give him devotion, love, protection, and adoration, she could not give him kids.