Black and Blue (Otherworld Assassin #2)(39)
Author: Gena Showalter

Finding Tiffany Star had been easier than expected, considering the lengths her father had taken to shield himself. But then, Tiffany was an up-and-coming designer, with a website to display her current clothing line. A little hack job, and boom. Evie had access to Tiffany’s in-box, and discovered the girl had a meeting with the owner of one of these shops.

Only five minutes ago, Evie watched Tiffany struggle to find a parking space in the lot. A wave of excitement hit her. Excitement she quickly tamped down. Then, when the girl walked past her at the coffee shop, never glancing in her direction, Evie turned and followed.

Now they snaked a corner. Evie had only to wait for—

That. Blue.

At the end of the newest walkway, a crowd of people surrounded him, each vying for his attention. Tiffany picked up speed, drawing closer to him. . . .

Evie burst into motion, shoving people out of the way. When she reached Tiffany’s side, she grabbed the girl’s briefcase and, as the girl shouted, “Wait! Stop! That’s mine!” she sprinted into one of the shops.

As she ran, she shed the top layer of her disguise—the ball cap, the red wig—and flipped the flannel shirt with half sleeves around, revealing a black business jacket. By the time she stepped through the back door, she looked like a new person entirely.

She walked at a leisurely pace and entered the empty shop at the corner, having already busted the lock. The windows were smoked, not allowing anyone to see inside as she emptied the contents of the briefcase on the floor, searching for anything that might point to John.

Sketches, sketches, and more sketches, but nothing important. Figured. As Evie put the case back together, Blue came through the door. As usual, goose bumps broke out over her skin and her lower belly quivered.

Was she ever going to get used to his power . . . or his appeal?

“Anything?” he asked.

“No.” She tossed the case at him with more force than necessary. Though her aim was off, he leaned to the side and caught it without a hitch. “Now go be a hero and tell her how badly you roughed me up, just to save the day. She’ll be all over you.”

He paused, tensed. “I’m not going to let things go that far.” He stood there for several more beats, just staring over at her as if there were something else he wanted to say. Then he was gone, and she had the strangest desire to call him back.

Or, worse, to say thank you.

* * *

Blue gave Tiffany his most charming smile, and she blushed. He almost sighed. He’d never met such a timid little bird, so he wasn’t sure how to deal with her.

At five ten, she was taller than the average woman. She had straight blond hair she liked to hide behind, and pretty green eyes she kept mostly downcast. He wasn’t sure why she lacked confidence. Unless she was embarrassed by her past? He knew she’d been a pretty wild teen, and more than a recreational drug user.

But it looked like she’d gotten her life together. Today she wore a yellow summer dress that screamed pedigree, style, and sophistication. There were no track marks in her arms, and a deep tan made her skin glow.

After he returned the briefcase, she was ecstatic and grateful and offered to buy him coffee once she finished with her business meeting. He played the attracted suitor and happily agreed to wait.

Now, an hour later, they were at a little outdoor café, sipping joe and chatting—well, he was chatting, she was listening. In the past fifteen minutes, he’d counted thirteen camera phones aimed in their direction, and he’d never been more thrilled by the public’s obsessive need to know about his love life.

Star would hear about the encounter. Maybe decide to meet with the man who’d saved his little girl’s briefcase.

“So,” he said.

“So.”

Awkward. Wow. This might be his first strikeout. And Evie was at home, listening.

Unreadable Evie. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman, and he knew how she felt about this part of the job. It must be throwing his game.

For John. This is for John.

“I’ve met your father a few times,” he said. “He’s a fan of the Invaders and used to come to all our victory parties.” You attended a few yourself.

“Oh.” Down went her gaze. She fiddled with the lid on her coffee.

“Nice guy.”

“Y-yes.”

Interesting. Was that fear he detected? “What’s he up to nowadays? I haven’t seen him around.”

“Working. As always.”

Uncomfortable silence.

Screw this. “Tiffany,” Blue said, layering his voice with the barest hint of compulsion. Testing the waters. . . . “Pinch my arm.”

Her eyes glazed over, and she reached out, pinching him as he’d ordered. He almost whooped with relief. She wasn’t immune.

Using more compulsion, he said, “I’m going to ask you a series of questions, Tiffany, and you are going to answer honestly. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Good. “Have you seen your father with a Rakan?”

“No.”

“Have you heard about your father and a Rakan?”

“Yes.”

“Have you—” Yes? Excitement built. He leaned forward, saying in a rush, “Tell me everything you’ve heard.”

Utterly monotone, she said, “I will be punished for speaking of it.”

He increased the amount of compulsion. “Tell me everything you’ve heard about the Rakan, Tiffany. Now.”

“In three weeks, I am to create a line of clothing from his pelt.”

Create, not debut. A line of clothing. From John’s . . . pelt.

Realization struck, and struck hard. John wasn’t being used as a sex slave, as Blue first feared. The male’s golden skin was to be peeled from his body and given to Tiffany. Then, after his skin had regrown, it would be peeled again . . . and again.

He would be a never-ending gold mine. Literally.

If Star had once sold organs on the black market, as rumors claimed, he would have the right contacts . . . and he was just monster enough to do it.

Fury rode the tides in Blue’s veins before spilling out, filling him up, consuming him. Behind him, chairs and tables toppled over. Glass shattered. People yelped and raced for cover. John did not heal as quickly as Blue and was probably still injured from the explosion, his skin unusable—hence the three-week wait. There was still time to save him.

“Anything else?” he demanded.

“A small patch of the hide has already been removed for testing. Ribbons were made. Those ribbons are being sold at auction tonight.”