Blindside (10 page)

He would have rolled her under him onto the wet kiss of the ground. He would take her there, her mouth bold and hungry under his.

The night exploded into sights and sounds. Shrill sirens screamed out nearby and flares of red and blue sliced through arousal to bring him to the sharp cold present.

“You set this up.” Sparkling amber went flat with betrayal. “Splinter my focus, get the shields to thin. Good strategy, Narc. Williams would be so proud.”

“Police! Get your hands up!”

“Lana. Just wait.” He breathed in precious air and forced his body to get up, muscles aching from the rush of power. Newfound pain speared his gut and though the heat was welcome he couldn’t stand that look in those devastated eyes. “I said, hold on.”

Mistake to grab her hand, to look down at that soft mouth. “I guess I got just what I asked for.”

A slap would have rang his bell had power not flared up to send her sprawling back. The crimson lights washed over the shattered expression on her face.

“God damnit, listen—” His turn to be pushed down to the ground, power flaring between them in a vicious exchange of light.

Confusion in her eyes, lips in a tight line before she shoved the helmet on her head in a rough motion.

“I didn’t set this up.” A thousand needles piercing his skin, power coiling and abiding. Mac stayed where he was, keeping his voice low under the onslaught of sirens.

More black and whites piled up across the road.

She threw a look at him over her shoulder, her voice hollowed, not Lana but the Night Rook. “Doesn’t matter now.” With crimson light slashing across helmet, she walked toward the cops.

“Police! Get your hands up!”

The glow of red cut in her eyes, the searing flashes bleached out agony. The tinted face shield and her own weakened power didn’t hold up against the lights, and yet the pain didn’t compare to the one cutting her from the inside. Mac had no choice. He set this up. And the Night Rook couldn’t help but know she deserved it.

“Stop moving! Get on your knees, hands on your head!” The voice, amplified by a loudspeaker, buzzed over a roaring headache. Pain was a living, breathing monster digging its fangs into her brain. “Stop moving! You’ll be shot!”

She didn’t care. Scraped empty of feelings, The Night Rook walked toward the inferno of lights.

“Stop! Stop moving, now!”

Laser glittered on leather from a guided firearm ready to drop her.

A gulp of breath, sharp, cold, the edges jagged.

“I need to see Doc Williams.” First a whisper, then the words grew loud. She couldn’t seem to stop, amidst the light, amidst the pain. Amidst the guns trained on her body. “I need to see Doc Williams.”

“Lean on the car! Hands up!”

“I need Commander Williams!”

She all but felt the laser piercing her skin, waited to know the sweet bite of a bullet. The helmet heavy on her head, she leaned against a wet hood of a patrol unit and put her hands out in front of her, allowing herself to close her eyes. It was like putting out a fire with a water gun.

“Stay still.” Hard voice, forced calm behind her. Hands on her upper back, another on each wrist. She forced her pulse to slow as handcuffs scraped over wet leather.

Another car squealed to a stop. “Report!”

Williams
. The last remnants of power choked her from the inside, blurring pain, blurring the heat searing her vision. A jolt pushed off the hands on her, past the voices yelling at her to stop. Another blast killed off the nearest red and blues, a voice behind her screamed about gunfire.

Silence stretched out in chaos.

“Williams.”

A beam of rage lifted her off the ground, knocking down the Glock aimed at her heart. A bullet punched into her ribs, the last dredges of power pushing the bit of metal to the ground. Gunpowder and Kevlar burned her skin.

She wanted him to know the thing holding him by the throat wasn’t the Night Rook.

“Fire!”

A bullet bounced off her shields and shattered a windshield two feet away.

“Tasers!” She felt his throat work as he screamed.

Through the white burn, Lana glimpsed twin heads of a Taser cartridge split apart. She braced for shock, the way your muscles seized and your heart stopped beating. Her fingers convulsed on Williams’ throat.

Power flowed through the charges to overclock the lava in her veins. The burn sent her into overdrive, lifting both her and Williams clear off the ground, his body a struggling mass of limbs, pale skin wet with the mist and crimson highlights.

No breath, no thought. Just pain of short, convulsing muscles.

The chords snapped away, cutting the connection and dropping them midflight. She hit the pavement, the impact of her helmet against ground blessing her with agony.

Lights flashed, burning and loud under the rain.

“Take off that helmet. Now.”

She gritted her teeth, tried to rein in the fire. And couldn’t control a snap of power from lashing William’s flashlight into a rain of glass.

“He’s armed!”

Bullets shot amidst sparks, her shield tightening, thinning, the lava burn fading at last. A final bullet slammed her to the ground, a hot fist beating at her chest.
Guess this is it
.

Arms snatched her up in the darkness, above the lights, above the screams and guns and the cops. Mac held her safe, surrounding her with bands of power.

“Hold on.”

She knew his voice. She had no strength or will to fight him. With shaking fingers, Lana stripped off the helmet and lifted her face to meet the rain.

Too late to question intuition.

Pushing against the roofs to stay up in the air, Mac clutched her to his heart and prayed she hadn’t been shot. That he’d gotten there in time.

“You should’ve left me.” Raindrops muffled her words. Her face, pale in the night, didn’t seem to be drawn tight in pain.

“How bad are you hurt?”

Those dazed, blown out pupils met his gaze. “My shield held.” She paused, the silent
until you got me out
vibrating in the frigid air. “You taking me down to the station?”

Hell if he knew. “Not yet.”

City lights from below splashed warmth on her white cheeks, the rain washing away the streaks of mud and what might have been tears. Cautious relief added to the tangle of emotion fighting for space inside his gut.

“I didn’t call Williams,” he said. She had to trust that.

“Okay.”

“You believe me?”

She licked at a droplet of water on her upper lip and set his veins ablaze. “Can’t argue this high up.”

This wasn’t right, this adrenaline infused desire. She was in shock, nerves pumping with pent-up emotion. All he could do was shift her closer and try to ignore a slide of leather-clad thigh against his leg. “A few more minutes. Close your eyes.”

She did, without another word or question. Just like that, trusting him to keep her safe, keep her alive. Then lights edging the central spire of the Space Tower burst through the fog and guided him toward the one place where he knew they would be safe.

Each breath teased him with rain and berry-scented hair.

“I wondered if I’d get to fly. And then I did and it was nothing but raw fury. How do you handle it? How do you stop before you cross the line?”

Soft words while the night whistled in loud silence. “I’m the wrong person to ask.”

A jolt of power against ornate, curved balconies pushed him higher into the sky. The tower’s blazing lights cut across Lana’s cheekbones, her face regaining color, her lips a soft, delicious pink. The gargoyles on the minor towers grinned from below as he flew past to land on the central spire.

Lana crumpled when he set her to her feet.

“You are hurt.” Arms under her knees and shoulders, his heart frantic.

She sank her teeth into her lower lip. “Twisted my ankle when I landed. Remind me next time I get tasered to land on my ass.” She looked down at the light, the city a glittering jewel at her feet. “Where are we?”

“My father called this place his office.” He hadn’t been back since he’d left San Mike. Shifting her weight against him, Mac ignored the insistent fire in his veins, a heat that had nothing to do with power. The code punched into a hidden panel still worked, judging by the warm air rushing through the sliding panes. Automatic lights sprayed Lana in the face.

“Just hold on.”

She hid her face between his neck and shoulder, lips soft on his blazing skin. He killed the outside lights with his newfound power and mentally promised his benefactor he would take care of the bill.

“The penthouse at the Space Tower? Some office.” He didn’t have to see her face to hear strain.

Since the bedroom was out of the question, Mac settled her on the leather couch facing the lights.

“No, don’t,” she said when he started to close the drapes. “It isn’t bad up here. I want…I want to see you.”

He winced right along with her when she tried to put weight on her foot.

“My father saved the man who owns the tower. The family maintained this place for him ever since. And now for me.” Everything the way he liked it. No dust on the computer monitors or scanners for public works. The wicker basket at the center of the marble counter overflowed with fresh purple grapes, their glossy shine reflecting off moisture-streaked windows. The city spread below with all its color, traffic, and rain.

“I’ll get ice for your foot.” Except he didn’t trust himself to touch her, to keep relief and need in check.

She crossed her arms over her breasts and gold glistened on the wet leather of her costume. “What happens now, Mac?”

He pressed his palm against the glass. “Fuck if I know.”

“I resisted arrest. Attacked an officer.” Delicate face, stubborn chin, light curls that had escaped her topknot. “Take me back to the cops. I blew out what shields I had left.”

“It always comes back.” Strange having somebody to talk to about what he always buried. He hadn’t done that since his father died.

“Get your serum. I won’t fight you.” She turned from the wet jewel of the city and made her way toward him on unsteady feet. A leather sleeve was shoved up to reveal pale skin marked with Kanji. “Just get it over it.”

“I’m not strong enough.” He said the words in a raw whisper, a sharp, drawn-out breath.

“I used power to hurt someone. Wasn’t that your point?” Her features twisted with unnamed emotion. “Williams got my brother killed. I would have crushed his throat given another moment.” She stared him dead in the eyes. “You let me go, I’ll finish this.”

“And I’m supposed to be your conscience? I didn’t sign up for that.” Arousal and relief were tempered by iced fear. “Power doesn’t come with instructions.”

“I don’t want it. I don’t know how or why I got it. I don’t want it back.” She reached for him, a quick feverish motion. The vials he’d carried against his chest gleamed in her hand.

“So do it.” A quick pop when she snapped the cap to expose a short needle.

Heat flowed under his hands. “You want to shoot up, I’m not going to stop you.”

Her fist trembled around the syringe, rain falling on the glass like tears. “That’s why you’re back, isn’t it? You’re the hero. I’m the villain of this piece.”

He shook his head, and in the screaming silence, knocked away the vial.

Crazy and pure and powerful, and for the moment, the only thing that felt right. She couldn’t pull away, couldn’t do anything but hunger for his mouth. Need, that greedy, clawing beast, electrified her skin.

“You’re hurt,” he muttered between breaths then left her mouth and dusted her jaw with quick erotic kisses.

“I don’t care.” She didn’t understand this wildfire of need. His mouth alternated between brutal and tender, his taste as potent as it was destructive, a decadent fiery drug.

“We can’t.” A world of need in those two words.

She had to have him, his taste, his skin. The barrier of clothing made her whimper. “Tell me to stop.” She pushed his coat down and reveled in those broad, tensed shoulders. “Tell me we aren’t doing this.”

She needed everything—shudder of his heart, his body rippling beneath her.

“Lana.” A curse and prayer. She didn’t care which. “God, I can’t think.”

“Say you don’t want this.” She dragged his mouth down to hers, taking the words away, taking away the doubt. This was darkness and passion, without thought, without regret. “Tell me to go.”

“I can’t lose you again.” Harsh words, his hands cupping Lana’s neck to hold her steady. He crushed her against the glass to fit his body against hers.

Wild, she feasted on his lips, hunger driving her up, closer, unable to get close enough. The floor dropped out from beneath her because Mac wrapped her thighs around his hips and took them up. The window cool against her back, she clung to him between the floor and the vaulted ceiling.

He tore away to bury his lips in the curve her neck, his stubble an erotic scrape over sensitized nerve endings. “I’ve wanted you since I’ve met you. God knows, I tried to stay away.”

“I need you. Now.” That last word ended with a groan because he found the hollow of her throat, scalding her with open-mouthed kisses, moving up to her face, teasing her ear. Shaking, she fumbled for her zipper, baring her shoulders and the Kevlar to his fevered gaze.

He pressed his lips against the edge of hard green plastic. “Thank fucking God.” And with trembling hands he pulled apart the Velcro.

Another beat of silence.

Not sure what she could say, or if she had any words left. No choice but to allow Mac to look his fill, his gaze caught between worship and desire. She pushed his T-shirt up over his torso, flattening her palms over his chest.

Skin on skin, his beautiful chest mapped with old scars and fresh bruises. Later, when this heat spent, she would explore each line, hear every story.

Pressing her to the glass, he used that wicked mouth on her breast. “God. Lana.”

“Don’t make me wait.” She wanted to feast on him, feel his skin against hers, his heartbeat pounding under her fingers.