Dark Crime, Page 3

  "I don't remember asking you to come here until after," she reminded. She turned, allowing her gaze to sweep the bar. She caught sight of the other one. Tariq Asenguard. Her heart accelerated even more, if that was at all possible. He looked as remote as his partner. She thought a nightclub owner would be all about fun and passion. These two men were ice-cold. "In fact, I've totally changed my mind and would like both of you to leave."

  "I am Tariq Asenguard," the one to her left introduced himself. He waved a hand toward the other one--the one with the mesmerizing voice. "This is Maksim Volkov. We were very sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man."

  She winced. She couldn't talk about her father. She couldn't think about him. If she did, she would totally go to pieces, and the men who had murdered him would get away with it, just like they got away with murdering others.

  "Mr.--er--Asenguard--I appreciate you both getting here so fast, but the Hallahans turned tail and ran. Now I'm going to have to take the fight to them . . ."

  Maksim shifted his position, and her gaze jumped to his face. His expression hadn't changed, but emotion flared in his eyes. Something dangerous moved there and was gone. He was back to ice-cold. No, glacier-cold. But his shift, as minute as it was, had moved him closer to her.

  She could feel his heat again. Not in a good way. He was absolutely expressionless, but she felt fury radiating off of him. It sucked the air from the room and replaced it with something heavy and oppressive. She took a step back and bumped the bar. He took a step toward her and his step was a lot longer than hers. He was in her space. Both arms extended so that he gripped the bar on either side of her, effectively caging her in.

  "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is that your ultimate goal here?"

  He bit the words out between very white teeth. Very white. She found herself staring at his mouth. At those teeth. Strong. Straight. But not perfect, not when two of them came almost to a point and looked--sharp. Her heart jumped at the sight of his mouth. Sensual. Hot. Defined lips. Straight nose. Aristocratic. Still, those eyes, so cold. So black. A dense glacier that had never been touched.

  "Of course not." She managed not to stammer, but he was too close. His body heat seeped into her pores. His scent swirled in her lungs. She held her breath, desperately trying to keep from inhaling him. He was invading. Taking her over.

  "You. Are." He bit the words out around his beautiful, clenched teeth.

  She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. Light dawning. Was she? She felt guilt that she hadn't been home. She felt guilt that her father had signed the properties over to her. Her name had been on the deeds ever since she was born, but he'd quitclaimed them on her twenty-first birthday.

  "I was out that night. It was my shift, but there was a class I wanted to take on bar tricks. Jimmy Mason was teaching the class and he's the acknowledged master. I thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity . . ." She trailed off, realizing she was blurting out private information to total strangers. Worse, something inside her was shifting. Breaking apart. She couldn't let that happen.

  She couldn't think about the terrible night of waiting. Of knowing. Of trying to hope. Of utter despair. She'd been so desperate, she'd driven to the strip club, but the Hallahans weren't there. Or if they were, no one was saying.

  "Inimamea," Maksim said softly. His hand came up to slide along her cheek. "I am sorry about your father. He was a good man. We were out of town. The moment you called, we were on the move." The pads of his fingers, whisper soft, traced over her high cheekbone and then swept down to the curve of her jaw as if he was memorizing her. "These men will be taken down. But not by you. Let us handle this."

  His voice slipped inside her mind. So gently. So softly. Almost not there, but still she felt it--the compulsion to obey him. To give him what he wanted. Still, she shook her head resolutely.

  "It's too late for that. They murdered him and then they threw him out of a moving car like so much garbage right at my feet. I have to do this. You don't have to understand. I don't expect you to understand." Nice girls didn't plot revenge. They didn't rig a bar full of explosives and hide weapons from one end of the bar to the next. Nice girls did what they were told. She hadn't been born nice. She hadn't been raised nice. She didn't feel nice.

  Blaze didn't like the fact that she was showing this beautiful man just who she was inside. She knew he saw--saw the need for vengeance and her resolve that she would bring the fight to the Hallahans. She closed down all reaction to this man. She wouldn't think about him or dream about him or fantasize. She didn't care if he thought her the worst person on the face of the earth. And she didn't care if he didn't understand. It only mattered that she did.

  "Then we do it together. You cannot take them down alone, and I think you know that." The pad of his thumb moved to her lower lip. "We do it smart and we do it right. Blowing up your bar is not the right way to go about it, Blaze."

  If she wasn't going to survive, it was. But living . . . that meant she kept the bar and her home. That meant she faced the fact that her father was dead and she was guilty because she'd insisted on going to take Jimmy Mason's "cool" class on doing tricks while fixing drinks. Her father was old-fashioned, but he'd gone along with her learning because she'd had fun flipping the bottles in the air and juggling them back and forth with him. He'd done that--for her. He'd taken her shift--for her.

  "Blaze."

  There it was again. Only her name. But the way he said it, as if he knew what she was thinking and he was comforting her.

  "You have to know they would have found a way to take your father regardless of where or when they did it. The attack was not in any way random."

  She couldn't think about that yet. His broken, bloody body. She turned her head away from his cold, black eyes. Eyes so black she felt she could see all the way into the very depths, and she didn't dare look. She didn't understand why she was so drawn to him. The man or the voice. Especially now.

  "I know. They want the property, but I don't understand why. They shut down the businesses the moment they acquire the buildings. What's the point? They aren't making any money from the businesses," Blaze said.

  Tariq moved closer and when he did, Maksim dropped his hands to his sides, but he didn't get out of Blaze's space. If anything, he took a step closer so that his body brushed hers, turning as he did so to face his partner. Blaze thought it might be the opportune time to try to slide away from him and the bar, but he wrapped an arm around her belly and tucked her front against his side.

  Possessively. Protectively. There was no mistaking the gesture. Not even for her when she knew nothing about men. He was claiming her. No man had ever done that before. No man had dared to. She didn't put up with it. She didn't respond to it. At least not until she'd heard his voice on the phone. Not until he was so close to her that with every breath she drew, she pulled him deep into her lungs.

  Not only was she aware of Maksim Volkov as all male, but she was suddenly aware of herself as a female. Her body, instead of being the body she'd trained for combat from her second birthday, was soft and pliant. Needy. Hungry. Aching. Her breasts hurt. There was a throbbing between her legs, and she felt every single pulse beat in her most sensitive core. Right there.

  "I am going to do another sweep of the bar," Tariq said, ignoring Maksim's body language. "Get her upstairs and settled. We still have to track the Hallahans tonight."

  She sent the man a scowl. "I'm going after them, not you. No one else is taking out the men who killed my father. Not unless I'm dead. That was the point of the phone call, to tell you about the deeds, so hopefully if I fail you would take over."

  "Your plans are going to have to change, Blaze."

  It was Maksim who answered, not Tariq, and his voice was that soft command she recognized from her phone call. There was no doubt it had been Maksim who answered the phone. She found herself shivering, icy fingers traveling down her spine. He was not a man to cross. She got that. She got that n
either of them wanted her to kill the Hallahans. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her gaze to Maksim's. Forced herself to stare into the twin glaciers.

  "Is there a reason you don't want me to kill them? Are you allies or something in this takeover of the neighborhood?" She didn't care if she sounded melodramatic or like she was quoting a line from a bad mobster movie. She needed to know.

  Tariq ignored her. He turned his back to her and began a slow perusal of the bar. She had the feeling he'd lost interest in her and the conversation. He was wholly focused on what he was doing--and she couldn't see that he was doing much.

  Maksim's fingers settled around her biceps. Gentle. Barely there. Still, she felt shackled, and the wild part of her wanted to fight.

  "Do not," he said softly. "If you fight me, you will not win and then you will be afraid of me." He tugged gently and took a step toward the stairs.

  "Do you read minds?" She was joking, of course. Clearly she didn't have a poker face, and he could read everything she was thinking. She went with him because it was the least line of resistance. If he thought she was cooperating with him, then he'd go away and she could do whatever she wanted to do.

  "Yes."

  She glanced at him as they moved up the staircase toward the apartment. His expression hadn't changed, not even when he joked. She didn't think he was human enough to joke and that surprised her. He still looked as remote and as cold as he had when she'd first laid eyes on him.

  "I bet you can play poker," she muttered, annoyed.

  "I enjoy the game once in a while."

  "Do you win?" Distracting him.

  She bent to retrieve a gun she'd slipped between the ornate dowels of the railing. The moment her fingers closed over the stock, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. His body covered hers, pressed her down so she couldn't straighten.

  She hadn't realized he was a big man. He was so well proportioned, she hadn't been able to tell he was so tall, or that he was so enormously strong. Wrapped around her like he was, she felt the muscles in his body. The sensation was like being enveloped in steel. There was no budging him.

  "Relax," she said, forcing the tension from her body. "I was just getting the gun so it wasn't lying out in the open."

  His arm locked around her belly like a vise. He dragged her upright as he removed the gun from her hand. "Not only do I read minds, I hear lies. You do not know me yet, so there is no trust between us, but know I do not like lies. Especially coming from you."

  He was telling her something important, but she wasn't certain what it was. His statement wasn't just about lying. She let her breath out and tried not to feel his body. Willed herself not to react. She didn't understand why her body had chosen him. Why her muscles went soft and her blood went hot when she was so close to him.

  "I can hear your heartbeat," he said softly. "I can see it, right here." He touched her pulse on the side of her neck.

  It was all Blaze could do not to jerk away from his touch. The pad of his thumb felt like a brand against her skin. She was aware that her heart pounded, raced even. Her breath felt ragged and labored, caught in her lungs in spite of her determination to remain impassive to him.

  She went very still. "Please don't touch me."

  "I am not hurting you."

  She steadfastly refused to look at him. She didn't want to be alone with him in her apartment. "I know."

  "I will not hurt you. I give you my word that I will protect you with my life."

  She closed her eyes briefly; her heart jerked hard in her chest. Her stomach performed a slow roll, and deep inside where she shouldn't even acknowledge him, she felt him and there was a reaction, a hot seep of liquid, a clenching that reminded her she was a woman and he was a very, very attractive man.

  He meant that promise. She tried to tell herself this stranger was playing her for some agenda of his own, but she knew better. She didn't understand what was happening, or why she was so drawn to him, but she had the terrible urge to turn her body fully into his and wrap her arms around him.

  Intellectually, she knew the situation was intense. She had expected to die. She'd planned to die. She'd just buried her father. Only a few days before, his broken, dead body had been tossed at her feet. She could understand why she would be feeling raw and vulnerable--even needy, when she wasn't a needy person.

  Maksim's hand transferred to the small of her back and he urged her to continue climbing the stairs to the apartment. "I realize that it's difficult to wait, inimamea. The Hallahans have a master. One who sends them on his errands and decides who will live and who will die. And how. They are his puppets. We have to find the man behind them."

  She stumbled at the doorway, and his hands steadied her. "I have to go after them." She sounded as desperate as she felt. She knew she did. But if she stopped, if she had time to sit down and process, she'd have to face her father's death. She couldn't do that. She just couldn't.

  Maksim reached around her and opened the door for her, waving her into the apartment. "We will get them. We will. But you need to be on your game, not grieving and ready to die. Willing to die." He pulled the door shut behind them, closing them together inside her home. It felt--intimate.

  The moment the door closed, Maksim shifted position. He glided. Or the floor moved. However it was done, she didn't actually see him move. Suddenly he was standing in front of her. Close. The fingers of his hand curled around the nape of her neck and he leaned even closer.

  "You are not going to die, Blaze. I will see to that. If you intend to be a part of this hunt, make up your mind to that. Because. You. Are. Not. Going. To. Die."

  THREE

  WHEN A HUMAN male waited for years to find the right woman--and he found her--he guarded her as best he could and treated her right. When a Carpathian male had waited for centuries to find the only woman who could save him, he didn't just guard her. He surrounded her with every protection possible. Maksim Volkov stared down at the woman who held the other half of his soul.

  Carpathians rarely saw the outer shell of a person. For him, his lifemate was the only and the most beautiful. Always. He could see, though, even by human standards, that his woman was truly beautiful. She was also a warrior, trained to fight, and she had every intention of bringing that fight to the men who had killed her father.

  Blaze stared back up at him with her amazing green eyes. She thought she was good at hiding her emotions, but he had been around for centuries, and even without the ability to read her mind, he was more than adept at reading expressions. There was defiance in the set of her mouth. That beautiful mouth kept his attention riveted to it. Defiance was in the set of her chin--the chin he wanted to taste. Her rebellion showed in the glitter of her green eyes.

  There was something wild in her. Something untamed that matched the wildness in him. He was predatory. As high up on the food chain as it got. He didn't know anyone who defied him. Or disobeyed him. Or looked at him with feigned innocence, all the while plotting to do exactly what she wanted--but Blaze was doing just that.

  For his species, there was only one woman to complete a male. She didn't have to be born a Carpathian. She could be a human psychic, they'd learned, and she could be born in any century, in any part of the world. It was a big world and there were many centuries to hunt in. Finding his lifemate was truly like looking for a needle in a haystack--but with even worse odds.

  "Did you hear me?" he asked, keeping his voice pitched low. She was susceptible to his voice, although compulsions didn't seem to work very well on her.

  He had spent over a thousand years in a gray world. Without any emotion whatsoever. It was a void that few could stand and remain honorable. After the first few centuries, it was impossible to believe one would find a lifemate. He had lived a life of honor, changing as much as possible to fit into each century, but he lived in a bleak world where only his ability as a warrior was important--as a hunter of the vampire. The vampires were those of his own kind who had chosen to give up their
souls. Every second he remained alive during those endless, bleak centuries, he was at risk to become the very thing he hunted--until he had picked up the phone and heard her voice.

  "I heard you," she replied, just as soft.

  He crowded her body, but she didn't move away from him. Blaze McGuire was no shrinking violet. She was afraid of him, but not because she thought he might harm her. She was too smart for that. She was afraid of him for all the right reasons. He was going to change her world and she knew it. She just didn't know how or to what extent.

  "I can get the information we need on Reginald Coonan," Blaze volunteered and made a subtle movement to escape.

  Maksim stepped into her, forcing her to take a step back. He did it again and she retreated a second time. That was as far as she could go. The door was at her back. "Reginald Coonan does not exist," he informed her, still keeping his voice pitched low.

  For the first time that he could remember since he was a child, he was uncertain how to proceed. She belonged to him. There was no denying that. The moment he heard her voice, he saw in color. Vivid, brilliant, overwhelming color. So bright he'd had to close his eyes against the blinding beauty.

  Taming Blaze was not going to be easy, and one wrong move would set him back. He didn't have time to make mistakes with her.

  "Of course that isn't his real name," Blaze said. "I know that. I know he made up his entire history, but he's still collecting properties in that name." She looked him directly in the eye. "What exactly is going on here?"

  He felt the impact of her gaze hitting him right in the gut. Green gems weren't as beautiful as her eyes. He hadn't realized he'd be so susceptible to a woman--even his own lifemate. He hesitated, unsure what to say. How much to say.

  "Maksim," she said quietly, "I don't like surprises. You're a huge surprise. I'm not going to pretend I don't feel your pull, because I do, in a big way. But something is happening here I don't understand, and if you're feeling anything at all for me, like I am for you, it's best if you're just honest with me. If you're not, this is going nowhere."