Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) (9 page)

The woman paused, then inclined her chin ever so slightly in affirmation.

Oh,
God.
Julia really was okay. Anya's legs almost collapsed under her with relief. "Where are you going? To hide?"

"I'm going to disappear." The woman pulled a baseball cap on her head. "I lost everything by being seen talking to you. I'm not risking any more."

"If you lost everything, then what else is there to lose? Why won't you help?"

The woman walked over to the window, balled her first, and then slammed her hand through the glass. Anya jumped back as glass exploded from the force of the blow, raining down over the tile floor "Walk away, Anya."

I'm coming in.
Slade's voice brushed over her mind.

No! Give me one more minute!
She grabbed the woman's arm as she was about to climb out. "My mother was murdered, and Julia is all I have left. I can't leave her alone out there. I won't stop until I find her. If you were Julia, wouldn't you want someone to care? Wouldn't you want someone to find you?"

The woman looked at her, then back at the window. "They will
kill
you, Anya. Don't you understand? You need to disappear."

"I can't. Not as long as Julia is alive." She jutted her jaw out. "Everyone I love has been murdered or kidnapped. I don't have a lot left to lose. I'm going to find her."

The woman paused, searching Anya's face intently, as if she were trying to see the truth behind the words. Finally, she nodded. "Okay, then. My name is Beckett Harper," she said finally. "If they get to me, you and the Black Swan have to find me, the way you're looking for Julia. That's the deal. You find me if they find me first."

Anya realized suddenly that she'd touched a chord. Beckett was as alone as she was. She wanted someone to care if she went missing. Anya knew what that was like. No wonder Beckett was afraid. It was hard to go it alone. "I promise," she said. "Where is she?"

Beckett leaned forward and lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. "There's a warehouse on the corner of Hartford Boulevard and Parker Street in West Bucknell, Connecticut. Go there after midnight tonight. Don't be early. That's all I can tell you." She grabbed the window frame, apparently oblivious to the shards of broken glass, and hoisted herself up.

"Wait! If you're going to disappear, how will I know if they're the ones that got you?"

Beckett paused, her blue eyes wide. "If they take me, they'll want others to know. They'll want me to be an example, just like you were supposed to be. You'll hear about it." Her eyes glittered. "You break your promise, and I will make sure they hunt you down. Do you understand?"

"I swear. I'll be there if you need me."

Beckett nodded, then hesitated. "Just so you know, I didn't know who I was working for. I didn't know what I was doing, and who I was hurting." Her voice broke, and her eyes were suddenly shiny with tears. "I'm sorry. Please know that."

Anya frowned. "Sorry for what? What did you do?"

But Beckett didn't answer. She just slipped out the window. There was the sound of her feet hitting the ground outside, and then she was gone.

* * *

S
lade walked
into the woman's bathroom just as Beckett dropped out of sight through the broken window. He listened to her footsteps scurry down the alley, and he tracked her as she fled down the street, moving quickly, with an innate grace that was beyond human.

He suspected he knew what she was.

Anya was gathering up Beckett's abandoned clothing. "Don't burn these," she instructed with a glare.

He almost grinned at the fierceness of her scowl. No one ever dared to order him around, and he kind of liked the fact that she treated him like there was a chance he was a decent human being instead of a relentless killing machine. She made him feel almost normal, and he wasn't sure he'd ever felt like that before.

"I won't burn them, but it's because I don't need to," he clarified. He appreciated her, but at the same time, she needed to understand that self-preservation came first, every time. If he had needed to infuse them with his psychic energy to track Beckett, he would have destroyed them. It was how it was. "I can always find her now." He kept part of his attention on Beckett as she got into a car that was soon moving quickly out of the area. Her energy was calm, and for the moment, she was safe. He let her go, turning instead to study Anya. "Why did you make a deal? I could have read her mind, or forced her to talk to us."

Anya paused, and frowned at him. "First of all, you can't read
my
mind. Maybe you can't read hers. Clearly, there are some people in this world who have the capability of blocking you."

"Not if I don't care if I hurt them. I could get in your head if I didn't care about the damage I would cause."

Her eyes widened. "You have this high and mighty moral code when it comes to killing, but not when it comes to frying people's brains?"

He narrowed his eyes, watching her. "I wasn't planning to fry your brain, but yes, death is different. Sometimes I need information. If the stakes are high enough, I'll do whatever is necessary to get it."

"Well, I don't believe in hurting others. There's enough pain in this world." She rolled the clothes up into a ball. "We need to go to Connecticut after midnight tonight. Can you get us there that fast?"

"Yes, of course." Her attitude grated at him, treating him like he was some kind of deviant for being willing to push boundaries to get the job done. "You'd never hurt anyone to help yourself?"

"No—"

"What if it would have saved your mother?"

She snapped a sharp glare at him. "Don't be an ass. That's not fair."

"No? Maybe that's my standard. Did that occur to you? That maybe I inflict pain on others only when it really matters. And where do you draw the line on what matters, Anya? Are your hands so clean?" He didn't know why he cared. He never cared what anyone thought. Ever. Damn. Why was he even getting into it with her? "Never mind. Let's go."

She didn't move, though, studying him. "I don't understand you," she said softly.

"Good. An assassin can't be predictable. You coming, or what?" He was feeling pissed off right now, and he didn't know why.

No, he knew why. Listening to the exchange between the women had made him think. It had made him remember. It had made him want to have that conversation with the one person in his life who mattered to him, who didn't even know he existed. He never thought about having an actual relationship with his brother, about what he had given up for his life, but listening to Beckett and Anya had made it impossible for him to ignore it, and he didn't like thinking about it.

He didn't like anything that Anya had brought into his life, in fact. He was royally screwed for blowing the contract he'd accepted for her death, even though he'd wired the money back into his client's account while Anya had been sleeping. He didn't like
at all
how much he wanted her physically. And it could serve no useful purpose that she was making him think and feel shit that an assassin couldn't afford.

Plus, he had to be a
guardian.
What the hell?

Then she smiled at him, a radiant, genuine smile that made his heart thunder to a stop. "Did you hear her?" she asked, her eyes glistening with excitement. "Julia is still alive, and she told us where to go. It's my first real lead. We have a chance!"

Shit. Shit.
Shit.
She was absolutely beautiful when she was happy. He wanted to yank her into his arms, pin her against the wall again, and lose himself until there was nothing left of who he was, and all that remained was her.

But he wouldn't. He'd learned that from his father. The more he wanted her, the less he could take.

Her smile faded. "What's wrong with you?"

"I want to fuck you." He knew it was crass, but he wanted to piss her off. He wanted her to hate him, so she would stop smiling at him like that.

Her smile faded, and she studied him speculatively. Unfortunately, she didn't look pissed. She looked thoughtful.

After a moment, she walked over to him. He stiffened as she neared, and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from grabbing her. He glowered at her. "You're playing with fire," he warned her.

"Will you please do me a favor?" she asked, so politely that he felt like he should be wearing white gloves and a top hat.

"Probably not."

"Go down on your knees."

He stood taller. "What the hell kind of request is that?"

"I want to be able to look in your eyes, and you're too tall for me to do that."

A part of him was curious. Another part of him was like, no way. He didn't get down on his knees for
anyone.
So, he compromised, and simply said. "Sorry. Not in my repertoire."

She sighed, and then looked around the restroom. He was actually somewhat fascinated watching her. She clearly had something in mind, and he was damned curious as to what it was. He wasn't used to dealing with people, or seeing them as living beings who had personalities and souls. They were either his targets, or he used them as a means to an end, whatever end that might be at that time, though every single thing he did was for two purposes: to protect his brother and to avenge his parents' murders.

Well…that had been his modus operandi until he'd met Anya, at which point he'd been forced to add protecting her to his list of life purposes. He wasn't going to lie, however. Anya was absolutely fascinating to him, and he kind of liked the fact that he had no choice but to hang out with her. Spending time with her didn't violate his two life goals, because he couldn't accomplish a damned thing if he were dead. So, he didn't have to cut her out. He had to stay with her for now. She was his mission, so he could indulge his curiosity about her without breaking his rules.

Her face lit up when she saw a small, plastic trashcan. She grabbed it, upended it in front of him, then stepped up on it, bringing her damn near exactly at eye level to him. He studied her, noticing the gold flecks in her eyes, and the extraordinary length of her lashes. They were dark, unnaturally so, and he suspected that she had put makeup on them to darken them. He wanted to see them without makeup, as they really were.

"You're trying to piss me off," she said.

He barely heard her, so fascinated by the way her lips moved when she spoke. Her lips were a soft red, no lipstick, just purely natural, and he liked it. He knew how they tasted, and he wanted to taste them again.

"Slade!"

"What?" Her hair was tumbling down around her face, a little tangled and disheveled, and sexy as hell. He took a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed it. The strands were smooth, like silk "Would you consider this soft?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Soft. If someone described something as soft, would this qualify?" He frowned. "I've never really considered that word before, but your hair makes me think of it."

A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. "There are different kinds of soft," she said. "There's soft, as in the sensation of the surface as your fingers brush over it, and there's also soft, as in really cushioned, like it would squish if you pushed on it."

"Like your breasts?"

Her cheeks turned red, and he swore. Shit. He hadn't meant to say that. He dropped his hand and glared at her. "What do you want?"

She smiled again, a half-smile that made his heart turn over. "I want to show you that soft is a good thing. Not just hair, but in every way. Close your eyes."

He shoved his fists deeper into his pockets. "No."

"Close them, Slade. Seriously. It's not like you need to see anything in order to know what's going on, right? Your mental tentacles are everywhere."

He scowled. "You're trying to mess with me."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Slade. You're impossible." She shoved the bundle of clothes into his chest and he instinctively grabbed them. Then, she placed her hands on either side of his face. "If you want to be a better assassin, you have to truly understand people. Close your damn eyes."

He stared at her for a long minute. He knew she was trying to manipulate him, but a part of him was absolutely riveted by her. She was so far from what he was accustomed to. He knew that he was in no danger from anything or anyone if he closed his eyes, so finally, he shrugged. "You get five seconds."

She grinned, that same grin that made him want to lose himself in her, and he shut his eyes, cutting himself off from her. For a split second, he felt a sense of deep relief to be freed from her influence, and then he felt the warmth of her breath against his mouth.

He went utterly still, frozen in place, as she pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was like a butterfly had brushed against his face, it was so delicate. Then, she did the same to the other corner of his mouth, her lips a whisper against his skin.
Hell
. He'd never felt anything like that before in his life.

He waited, taut with anticipation, for the next one.

No kiss came, but her fingers stroked along his jaw, her touch so light it was like a feather along his skin...except it wasn't a feather. It was Anya, her skin warm and sensual against his. He felt his whiskers rough beneath her touch, and the contrast of his whiskers against her skin was entrancing.