Again he wanted to grin. With those words, he realized Evie Black didn’t just desire him with the same fervency he desired her—she also liked him as much as he liked her. Something he’d noticed: she only threatened people she cared about.
I’m in trouble with this one, aren’t I?
* * *
As the sun set on the horizon, shadows began to thicken. Blue was able to place ten small cameras on the perimeter of Star’s country home, a huge compound surrounded by an iron gate, armed guards, and a forest of fake green trees.
“Done with the outside,” he whispered. He was roughly thirty yards from the mansion, hidden by a massive trunk. Not to mention the fact that his clothing had tiny microchips woven throughout, causing the fabric to blend with his surroundings every time he moved.
“I’ve disabled the laser sensors,” Evie said through the piece in his ear. “Avoid the middle of the gate and you should be fine.”
“ ‘Should’?”
“Let’s find out together.”
Funny. “I’m about to go in.”
“Your six is clear.”
“All right. I’m moving in.” For protection, he had a pyre-gun, an image cloak, and a few daggers. For surveillance, he had a single sheet of microbugs—twenty-five peel-and-stick tabs to place throughout the home. “Unless you see something, I need you to be quiet from now on.” Her sexy voice was a distraction he couldn’t afford.
“Roger that.”
Deep breath in . . . hold . . . hold . . . As he released it, he surged forward, out from the shade and into the waning sunlight, moving at such a swift pace the guards would only register the slightest blur. He climbed the gate. As he placed a bug on the north, east, south, and west walls, he searched for the best entrance into the home. No one shot at him. No one cried out a warning.
“See something. Three giggling women in lingerie just snaked a corner behind you,” Evie said, her voice a caress in his ears. “Please tell me you didn’t accidentally stumble into a harem . . . oops. Shutting up now.”
Can’t laugh. A guard exited a side door. There. He slipped inside, unnoticed, as the metal began to close, and found himself in . . . a break room. Eight men. All armed. Some playing cards, some watching monitors that displayed the house grounds. He couldn’t slow; he would give himself away. He had to keep going, even though he didn’t know the layout.
When he reached a hallway with only one guard, he seized the opportunity. Finally slowing . . . stopping, Blue placed a hand over the male’s nose and mouth, and pinched his carotid, cutting off both of his airways. It wasn’t long before the guy sagged in his arms, a deadweight. He dragged the guy into a nearby storage closet.
“While we’ve got a moment, let’s revisit the lingerie,” he whispered to Evie. “You ever wear any?” Working as swiftly as possible, he switched off the chips in his clothing and held the image cloak—a small black band with a camera in the center—at the top of the guard’s head and scanned all the way to his feet.
“Actually, I prefer to go commando,” she admitted.
He moaned. How was he supposed to keep his hands off her now?
Michael, that’s how.
But Michael would understand if he caved. Surely.
As soon as the guard’s identity registered, Blue snapped the band around his own neck, and the guard’s hologram was cast, front and back, shielding his identity. “Here goes. Radio silence again.”
Blue stepped into the hall and walked as if he were simply out on patrol. He reached around every door and, without pausing, placed a bug in . . . a sitting room . . . a bedroom . . . another bedroom . . . He marched downstairs, took a corner. People buzzed around in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal. He anchored another bug.
In a perfect world, he would find John locked in a room. Or down here, in a cell. And Solo would burst through the entrance to help him. Together, they would free John.
In a less-than-perfect world, Blue would find something to point him to their locations.
In a crappy shithole of a world, he would find nothing.
He was in a crappy shithole.
He’d been so hopeful. Frustration poked at his power, and that power expanded inside him until his skin felt taut, ready to rip apart at the seams.
Keep it together. One last room to bug. The most important.
Blue searched until he found Star’s office. The doors were closed and locked, and he would bet Star was inside, working. He could sneak inside and try to use voice compulsion, forcing Star to lead him out to safety and then to tell him everything he wanted to know. But there were two flaws in that plan. One, guards would come gunning for him and he couldn’t hold them all off at once without emptying himself. And if he emptied himself, he couldn’t carry Star away—or save John and Solo, if they were nearby. Two, half the population was immune to the compulsion. Star could be one of the immune.
“You’ve got two males coming in hot,” Evie announced.
Great.
“Marco,” a deep voice said.
Blue placed the last bug on the office door. No way could he get in without blowing his cover. He turned. As promised, two males were barreling toward him, both frowning.
“Marco. What are you doing down here?”
“I think you’re Marco,” Evie prompted.
Yeah. Probably. But Blue couldn’t say a single word to the guys—he wouldn’t have Marco’s voice. That meant he had to go with plan B.
He released a small ring of power. Not enough to render Blue completely useless afterward, but enough to weaken him as he disabled the guards. The two grunted and jerked before slumping to the floor.
He considered the consequences worth the reward.
“Nice,” Evie said, “but you better get out of there before they’re found and an alarm is tripped.”
Blue kicked into high gear—which wasn’t as high as it had been before—propelling outside. He raced across the lawn . . . no alarm . . . he climbed the iron gate . . . no alarm . . .
He jumped into his waiting car and sped down the street, constantly glancing at the rearview mirror to see if he was being followed.
“How long before you’re back at the boathouse?” Evie asked.
He thought he heard the words she didn’t say: How long before you’re safe?
“Missing me already, princess? How sweet.”
“Blue! I’m being serious.”
How adorable was the pout in her voice?
Dude. You’ve got it bad.