Bruiser’s eyes sharpened and his entire body came alert, all without moving a muscle. “Disappeared?”
“Brandon and Brian aren’t with Grégoire and won’t answer calls,” Eli said.
“That is very strange. And unexpected,” Bruiser said.
“We got pics of this Louis and Bâtard?” I asked.
Bruiser passed me his cell phone. On it was a photograph of a small painted portrait. I studied the likeness of the two men pictured there. One was pretty, with curling brown hair, the other wore a van-dyke beard that accentuated a cruel mouth and hard eyes. “Louis,” Bruiser said, gesturing to the pretty one.
I grunted and passed his cell back. Heard the muted click and Shemmy said, “Excuse me, sirs, ma’am. But we have a report of a revenant rising in St. Louis Cemetery Number One. There’s already video of skeletal fingers pushing through a mausoleum wall. I’m assuming you want to go there?” Shemmy sounded eager, as if he found all this entertaining as heck. Let him get chewed on by a dog-fanged vamp and see how entertaining it was. I stretched my shoulder, peeved. I liked that word. Peeved. It was more refined than saying pissed.
“With all speed,” Bruiser said, swiping his cell. “It’s nearly dusk and we’ll have undead Mithrans responding to Le Bâtard’s call as well as revenants. This will get messy.”
“We need better gear,” Eli said.
“Correction, Shemmy,” Bruiser said. “To St. Louis One by way of Jane’s home, please.”
The limo made a quick right turn, throwing me against Bruiser. I stayed there for a moment longer than necessary before sitting up straight. I didn’t know about other limos, but Leo’s limos didn’t have seat belts. When I sat up, I started braiding my hair into a tight-fighting queue.
“That will get us gear,” Eli said. “What about you?”
“I relayed a message from the Enforcer”—he glanced down at me—“to have a cyclist meet us at Yellowrock Securities with my gear.”
I was responsible for the MOC having motorcycles, all white, all exactly alike. Crotch rockets, fast, responsive, and popular among the blood-servants, especially the younger males, some of whom had been reprimanded for racing in the streets at two a.m. last week. Now they had permission to drive too fast.
“Sure. Whatever. And why are you going at all?” I asked.
Bruiser slouched in his seat, one elbow braced on a seat arm, fingers latched across his middle, legs out and crossed at the ankle. He looked good. More than good. And the way his eyes fastened to me, heated and intense, I’d say he knew it. I had seldom used the word sexy in my thoughts about anyone, but oh my God—the man was hot. Freaking. Hot. Sexy didn’t even begin to cover it. Or uncover it. A dozen visions of Bruiser naked on my bed or his or in the shower raced through my mind.
“Again—” Eli started.
“We know,” I interrupted. “Get a room. You wouldn’t be so difficult if you weren’t fighting with Sylvia.”
“Again. I am not going on a cruise.”
I grabbed the strap at the door to keep from being slung across the limo as Shemmy made a fast turn and braked in front of my house. The driver said, “I’ll stay right here unless traffic makes me move, in which case I’ll circle the block and come back.”
“Back up and block the street, emergency blinkers on. I’ll text when we’re nearly ready,” Bruiser said, opening the door. “If there’s traffic, they can wait.”
“I love my job,” Shemmy said.
We got out and ran for the front door, just as a crotch rocket motorcycle roared the wrong way up the street.
Inside, I shut my door and pulled out one of the newest sets of fighting gear sent by Leo. This wasn’t as pretty or as expensive as the three sets of fancy leathers he’d sent last time. The pretty ones were for formal occasions, and the one damaged at the witch conclave had been sent off for repair. The new leathers were not showy, but utilitarian; they had a dull finish that didn’t catch the light, and they didn’t squeak when I wore them. The fancy ones did. Eli was working on fixing that so I didn’t embarrass myself at the next official shindig, but for now, I was in matte black.
I drew on Beast-speed, stripped fast, and yanked on the long silk underwear that gave a layer of protection between my skin and the anti-spell silk lining of the leathers. I slid into the pants and zipped the jacket. My leathers, and the straps and buckles that held my fighting gear snug, had been adjusted to me, the fit tight but breathable. They were spelled with anti-spell workings by the witch coven in Seattle, the coven that spelled the government’s military armor. My gear had plastic armor inserts at groin, elbows, and knees—the favorite vamp dinner sites—and fine sterling silver mesh between the layers to keep vamps from biting down. I put on my own gorget and leather wristbands.
I weaponed up, threading on the harness designed to carry maximum firepower and blades. If the revenants had started coming out before dusk, I had no idea what might happen after the sun set.
Fun, Beast thought at me.
“Not,” I said to her. I added mags loaded with silver ammo in the utility pockets. I zipped them closed and folded over the Velcro pocket tabs to keep them in place.
As I seated the Benelli in its new Kydex holster, my door opened and Bruiser entered, shutting the door behind him. Without looking at me, he dropped a satchel on my bed, dumped out his old Enforcer gear, and stripped. It wasn’t pole-dancer erotic, just economical and efficient. Jacket, shirt, shoes, socks, pants, undershirt, folded and placed carefully on the bed. He left his boxer briefs on. The lights and shadows touched his body like living marble, like David under the hands of Michelangelo. Good lord.
Chest hair tapered to his waistband. Pecs to die for. A six-pack that needed no makeup or special lighting. Or even posing. Just there.
He bent over the bed and spread out the leathers and weapons. A small birthmark peeked out, high on his inner thigh, shaped like a jagged scar or a bolt of lightning—which was coincidence for sure—so pale it didn’t show in most light, and I hadn’t noticed until recently. I could see it perfectly just now. I’d bitten that mark the other day. Playfully. Very playfully. Heat zinged through me at the memory.
If I still had my cell I’d have taken a dozen shots as he moved. I might have moaned a little. His lips widened. He knew I was watching. His scent warmed, changing from the citrusy scent of his cologne to the heat of Onorio in a heartbeat, more like caramel and heated brown sugar, with a hint of something spicy. He looked up at me, his eyes nearly closed, as if he too was thinking about that last time we were able to take off a day and play.
Mate, Beast purred.
“Oh yeah. Definitely,” I said aloud.
Bruiser slid into the leather pants, his looser on his frame than mine on me, his pockets bulging with gear. He didn’t zip up, his leathers open hanging on his hips, his black boxer briefs perfectly exposed and uh, bulging with gear of a completely different sort. He stood, his jacket held by one finger, his chest bare, and slanted a look at me. “You’re not making this any easier.”
“Huh? Oh.”
“We could just stay here and let the security team handle the twice-risen undead.”
“We could. Probably should,” I agreed, still staring. His muscles had been sculpted by fighting and a judicious lifting of weights. His body was beautiful, not something I had realized the first time I met him. I’d just thought he was a blood-meal and sex partner to Leo who also was Leo’s knee-capping muscle.
Thanks to vamp blood he was scar-free, except for two very pale bullet scars on his chest. I was pretty sure he should have died from them, but drinking vamp blood has its perks.
“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll never get my leathers on.”
I flashed him a cheeky grin, walked to the door, and opened it a crack. Blocked the view both ways with my body. Over my shoulder I said, “Pretty sure you need a cold shower to get the pants zipped now.” I slipped out, hearing his chuckle. “Showoff,” I said through the door.
“Ready?” Eli asked.
He was decked out in leathers too, despite the fact that when we first met he had declared he’d never wear them. Once he’d seen how well mine protected me from injury, he had changed his mind. I had picked up my stakes on the way out and stuck silver ones in my fighting queue.