There was nothing I could do about that. Free will and all. I spun on the toe of my boot and stalked into the rain. It wasn’t pouring as hard, more a steady patter instead of the previous downpour and alternating sleet. The lightning had resolved into a faint and distant rumble. The strange wet mist was back, though, thicker than ever, and I strode through it, my off-the-shelf combat boots splashing. I wasn’t in Enforcer gear—no spectacular leathers, no specially designed boots, and there was no way I was putting on the gorget until it had been steamed clean of my own blood and the damaged links repaired. But I was dressed in black, a long, lean form, my gold nugget necklace my only jewelry, weapons, and a scowl the devil himself would have admired. From the way people backed away, I knew my eyes were glowing gold, Beast close to the surface. It was her snarl on my face.
I stalked to the flashing lights, blue and red emergency vehicles resolving out of the fog, cops and techs and detectives stepping back. I caught his scent on the wind, slight but undeniably his. Wereleopard. Black wereleopard. Ricky-Bo LaFleur. The SAC, senior special agent in charge of the Knoxville, Asheville, and Chattanooga PsyLED office, and several other states if assigned by his superiors. My ex. We had things to say to each other.
Well, maybe it was clearer to say I had things to say to him. Not all that long ago, Rick had promised to kill my honeybunch and take me back, as if Bruiser were his personal threat and I was a toy to be fought over. Not. And Not.
I caught Bruiser’s scent, but not the smell of his blood. He was still okay. Something tight and twisted unclenched inside of me. But he was standing with Rick, his form tall and controlled, looking like a male model, a passive metrosexual. Utterly deceptive. I had seen my sweetcheeks fight. He was deadly. He’d fight if attacked, but would he be fast enough? Were-creatures were faster than human eyes could follow. The fear returned.
I strode from the fog, long steps, straight between them. Stopped, nose to nose with Rick. Unlike the cops behind me, he didn’t pull away. “Talk. Now,” I said. “Bruiser, we’ll be a minute.”
“Of course, love.”
I heard him turn and move away, about ten feet. Onorios have very acute hearing. He was giving me the pretense of privacy but still covering my back. Eli, disobeying orders, took up a position at Rick’s back. The corner of Rick’s eye twitched. He was a predator. He knew when he was being stalked and cornered. He looked different, older, worn. His black eyes still flashed and his hair still fell over his forehead in a small black curl. In the weather, it had formed into small ringlets at his collar. He was swoonworthy. He had also broken my heart, embarrassed me in front of the entire vamp city, and taken off with another woman, a curvy, sex-on-a-stick, gorgeous wereleopard. A creature like him. I had grieved. But I was done with that months ago.
I smiled at the memory, showing too many teeth, and snorted a breath at him. Big cat to big cat. The first steps of a challenge. “Ricky-Bo,” I whispered. “The last time we talked personal crap, you said we can’t be together, but that eventually you’d find a way out of this ‘were problem.’ Then you said, and I quote, ‘If you’re sleeping with him,’ meaning Bruiser, ‘I’ll kill him and take you.’” I dropped my voice, so low even a wereleopard had to tilt his head to hear. “Understand this, you foul piece of scum. You and I are done. I’m with George Dumas,” I said, using his real name to make sure there could be no confusion. “You touch my Bruiser and I’ll take your head so fast you’ll still be blinking as you fall in two. Anything happens to my Bruiser by an outside force or person, and I’ll take your head. My Bruiser disappears, and I’ll take your head. He stubs his toe and I’ll make you pay. Are we clear?”
“Threatening a federal law enforcement officer?”
“Damn skippy.”
Rick’s face relaxed. Rain dripped from his hair and trickled over his forehead. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Jane. I’m sorry I shamed you. I’m sorry I was such a lousy human being that every single person who matters to me in New Orleans wants to punish or kill me. Including my mom.” A smile touched his lips. “She likes you. Still asks after you.”
I didn’t respond to that one. Rick’s parents were amazing. So were his sisters. I had liked them. A lot.
“I was magicked,” he said. “Not an excuse. There is no excuse. But you should know. I was spelled a long time ago, a blood spell, through my tattoos, but the working was left unfinished. When the incomplete spell was mixed with two types of were-taint, that messed me up. Bad.
“It took time but I’m free of it now. You and George are safe from me.” His smile widened. “But the day you two break up and go your separate ways, I’ll be back. Promise. And this time I’ll be the one doing the courting.”
Rick had told me only part of the real tattoo problem, but I elected not to comment on that now. “Sometimes things die, Ricky-Bo. And they stay dead.”
His smile fell away. “Sometimes,” he agreed. “Talk business now? And tell your second to put away his blades.”
“You know Eli’s my second?”
“I know a lot of things.”
And I had to wonder how and why. “No. I’m done with you. Eli. Bruiser. Limo.” I turned and walked away from Rick, through the rain to the limo and Shemmy and something more to eat. I was starving, and there was a fine tremor running though me. Nerves and not something to do with the new magics pulsing in the shape of a star around me and through me.
In the limo, Bruiser found towels and passed them to us. He handed me a box of energy bars and candy bars and I tore open a Snickers and munched down. Heaven. He had an odd look on his face as I ate. Sorta . . . bemused might be the right word. “What?” I asked.
“My Bruiser?” he asked.
I flushed scarlet and wanted to fall through the floor into the weapons container below our feet. “Ummm. He threatened to kill you.”
“So you laid claim to me?” His tone was full of peculiar emotions, feelings I couldn’t name. Didn’t understand. Except that he wasn’t teasing me. His eyes were warm, like melted milk chocolate with flecks of hot caramel, but gleamed like brown obsidian, a high sheen.
“Seemed the most”—I hunted for a word—“most expedient way to keep you alive.” I resisted squirming in my seat like a four-year-old.
Bruiser’s lips softened and parted, his bold, sculpted nose casting a shadow across his face. “Thank you. No woman has ever wanted to protect me.”
I frowned and almost said, No man ever wanted to protect me either, except that was a lie. Eli protected me. Leo protected me when it suited his course of action and future goals. Alex and the Robere twins. The Mercy Blade a time or two. I met Bruiser’s eyes and the smell of Onorio in heat flooded the room.
Beast peeked out, making my eyes glow. Mate, she thought.
“Get a room,” Eli grunted.
“I intend to. As soon as possible,” Bruiser said, his eyes still on me. And my blush, which had cooled, burned even hotter.
Beast might as well have been rolling in catnip, she was so happy.
Eli wasn’t the eye-rolling type, but if he had been, now would have been the time. He dragged our attention to business. “Without prior authorization of the governor, Rick is the official who has to authorize Jane’s use of force—unless there is a direct threat to the populace, in which case she can act unilaterally.”
“Rick?” I said, sitting up in my seat. “Not Soul?”
“Soul isn’t here.”
“She will be,” I said, remembering Opal in stasis in the lightning. That seemed important, but nothing came to mind. “Soon.”
“PsyLED has law enforcement control here, even over the feds,” Eli said. “This is Rick’s show. So keep that in mind.”
Bruiser laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. But Beast liked it even better than the Onorio heat.
“Moving on,” Eli said. “Alex uncovered some evidence—other than Grégoire’s panicked assertion and the rising of the revenants of their line—that Le Bâtard and Louis Seven are both in town. It’s possible that they’re in the Roosevelt Hotel in the French Quarter. The tip came from Grégoire’s boys just before they disappeared.”