Mercenary Read online

  “Shade, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Vincent said grimly.

  Fresh tears of relief welled in my eyes as I swayed, trying not to fall over. The wizard was notoriously hesitant to wade into the field, much preferring to fight crime by way of lab reports and a combination of magic and science. But the jangle of keys made me think he was already walking out the door, ready to come to my rescue.

  I would owe him for this.

  I ended the call and tried to ignore Asher playing with his wounds, staring at me with those red eyes from only inches away. Peasblossom landed on my shoulder, her sword pointed at the goblin in warning until he leaned back. A little.

  “I knew when Flint first pointed you out to me that you would be fun,” Asher said, his voice huskier now. “I think you get into trouble a lot.”

  “Not a lot,” I protested.

  Peasblossom snorted, but didn’t lower her sword.

  Asher grinned and trailed a finger down the bandage over my left shoulder. Pain pulsed from the wound, sending a hot rush through my body the way only a truly bad burn can. I clamped my jaw tight to keep from whimpering. I didn’t want to tempt the goblin, or excite him anymore than he already was.

  Hurry up, Vincent, I thought desperately.

  We sat in the parking lot for what I would have sworn was an eternity, but was probably less than half an hour. I listened for the sound of the stone giant returning, but there was nothing but the breath of the wind in the sparse trees, and the echo of far away traffic. No cars drove past the lot, and I didn’t see movement in the houses around us.

  Finally a car pulled onto the street. I caught a glimpse of Vincent and almost cried in relief.

  “That’ll be your friend, then.” Asher brushed a hand over my shoulder one more time, then tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’ll see you again soon,” he promised.

  Chapter 11

  It was a testament to how rattled I was that I didn’t recognize the truck before the owner of the vehicle circled around the front to approach me. Over six feet tall with light brown hair and alert blue eyes, Liam Osbourne exuded power. The Detective Sergeant of the Cleveland Metroparks Police wasn’t just a cop. He was the alpha of the Rocky River Clan. A werewolf.

  Vincent half-fell out of the truck, catching himself with his staff and swinging down in what would have been an impressive move if he’d done it on purpose. The wizard wore a pale green short-sleeved dress shirt and brown tweed pants. I caught a glimpse of his jacket in the seat of Liam’s truck, matching brown tweed complete with beige elbow patches. His wavy brown hair touched his shoulders, and some of it stuck up as if he’d been running his hands through it.

  “You sounded like you were in danger,” he said, gesturing at Liam. “I brought help.”

  “They’re gone,” I said, my voice so hoarse I wasn’t sure Vincent would hear me. “I’m all right.”

  “You look a little worse for wear,” Liam observed.

  The werewolf’s energy reached me before he did, giving my battered body a jolt of heat. I gritted my teeth and sucked in a breath, easing into the shifter’s aura like someone sinking into a bath that’s a few degrees too hot.

  “What happened?” He knelt beside me as he scanned the empty lot, peering into the darkness between the buildings as if expecting my attacker to return and finish the job.

  I tried to smile, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. My skin radiated heat, but my core was turning to ice and my teeth chattered. Worse than the burns, the memory of Asher’s face lingered. The echo of his voice. The excitement in his eyes as he stared at my wounds, insisted I let him poke and prod at them.

  “Describe the pain.”

  I would hear that voice in my nightmares tonight.

  Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because Liam frowned. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head, trying to scatter the macabre thoughts. “I’m fine. Just a little roasted and very tired.” I didn’t try to sit up yet. I felt as if I’d melted into the ground, and I needed to rest another moment before I attempted to sit up without falling over.

  Liam gave my bandaged shoulder and arm a critical look. The sleeves of his blue and white plaid shirt were rolled up, as usual, and I watched the muscles of his forearms flex as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “Tell me about your case.”

  Words failed me. In some corner of my mind, I was aware I was staring. Watching each button slide free, each inch of skin exposed. There had to be a reason he was taking his shirt off. I frowned. Unless I was dreaming. Hallucinating from the pain.

  “Peasblossom, did you give me a pain killer?”

  “You’re not dreaming.” Peasblossom’s tone was dry, and she landed on my head to knock on my skull. “He’s being a gentleman.”

  “Gentleman?”

  Liam slipped out of his shirt and held it out to me, offering a hand to help me sit up at the same time. I blinked, still confused.

  Then reality hit me like a frying pan upside my skull. The fire wielder. My shoulder.

  My shirt.

  I’d torn it off when it caught fire. And now that I’d thought of it, all I could think of was the feel of the warm night air on my bare skin, and the fire-damaged strap on the left side of my bra straining desperately to keep from snapping. Half of the cup on the right side was burned away, leaving a hole just big enough to let some flesh bulge forward, but not enough to be completely indecent.

  “Oh. Right, that. Um, thank you.” With as much dignity as I could, I accepted the offered hand and let him help me into a sitting position before reaching for the shirt. As soon as I was upright, the world swam around me, my body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. I tilted backward.

  Liam’s arm went around my back, holding me up as I swayed. Without a word, he helped me get into the shirt, moving slowly and gently. His aura buzzed against me, a combination of comfort and pain. I didn’t fight it when I sagged forward, laying my head on his chest, teetering on the edge of consciousness. I felt him turn to look over his shoulder at the wizard.

  “Can you heal her?”

  Vincent didn’t answer right away, and I forced one eye open halfway as I tried to find my voice to tell Liam I didn’t need more healing. Vincent stood where the fire wielder had fallen when Asher tackled him, holding his hand over the ground. His lips were moving, his eyes locked on an invisible point in space. As he waved his arm, two ghostly shapes rose from the ground.

  “A goblin and a fire elemental.” He turned to me. “You’re lucky he only burned your—” He stopped when he saw the look on Liam’s face. He glanced from the werewolf, back to me. “Did I miss something?”

  Liam pointed at my injured shoulder. “She’s hurt.”

  “Not hurt bad,” I mumbled. “Healed.”

  “What did she say?” Liam asked.

  “She was badly hurt, but she healed.” Vincent pointed at him. “She doesn’t need more healing, she’s just exhausted from how much she healed already. She needs sleep.”

  “You said the blood over there is from a goblin and a fire elemental?” Liam looked at me. “Do you know who attacked you?”

  I closed my eyes. His aura didn’t hurt anymore, and the more I leaned on him the more that buzzing heat reached into my core, where the cold that followed a bad burn had started to set in. “No… I…”

  It was too much effort to finish the sentence. Peasblossom landed on my head and answered for me. “We’re investigating a case that involves two different private military companies, and they both hire a wide range of employees. It could be either one of them.” She sat down and patted my head. “Fire elementals burn all over, from head to toe. The guy that attacked you only burned at the eyes and hands, like an ifrit.”

  “He must have been wearing a fire retardant suit to hide the rest of the flames,” Vincent said thoughtfully.

  “Why would he do that?” Liam gathered me into his arms, careful not to jostle me more than necessary.

  “To…frame an if
rit,” I mumbled. My head lolled against Liam’s shoulder as he stood, holding me as if I weighed less than a child.

  “An ifrit?” Liam asked. “Isn’t that a demon?”

  “It is,” Peasblossom confirmed. “And one of the companies involved in our case is Scoria Security, owned by Aaban Nassir. He and his brother Charbel are ifrits.”

  “I see.” Liam walked to his truck, pausing to look at my car and the ruined trunk. “That wasn’t a fire elemental.”

  “No, that was a stone giant.” Peasblossom clung to my head, hands threaded through my hair to hold on.

  “A stone giant,” Vincent repeated. He blinked at the car. “Don’t see many of those in Cleveland.”

  “Probably works for Underhill,” Peasblossom said.

  “What about the goblin?” Liam asked.

  An image of Asher’s face roared back into my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as if that would rid my mind of the glowing red eyes. I didn’t know how to answer that question. Liam didn’t know about my contract with Flint, and if I could avoid telling him, I would. The trust between us was tentative enough as it was, I didn’t need him thinking I was compromised by the sidhe’s ownership. And I couldn’t very well say I’d been sparring with goblins for fun.

  “He’s taken an unpleasant shine to me,” I said finally.

  “Not a great situation to be in,” Liam noted.

  He didn’t ask if I needed help with the situation. I didn’t know if I should be flattered that he thought I could handle it, or snubbed because he didn’t care. I was too tired to think about it.

  Vincent asked me a question, but I couldn’t concentrate long enough to answer. I hovered in a fog, not quite sleeping, but not awake either. Liam, Vincent, and Peasblossom continued to talk around me, and I felt myself being lowered into the seat of Liam’s truck. Someone draped a blanket over me, and I stopped fighting the darkness.

  The next thing I knew, the truck was pulling to a stop. I didn’t remember when it had started moving. Disoriented, I forced myself to open one eye.

  The sight of my new apartment building gave me the jolt of adrenaline I needed to sit up.

  “Peasblossom gave us the address.” Liam was turned around in his seat, watching me. He nodded toward my shirt pocket. “She’s sleeping.”

  I blinked again, then stared down at the pocket of Liam’s shirt. A soft snoring sound came from inside, and I pulled it open a little to see Peasblossom nestled in a ball of pink skin, flower petal skirt, and wings.

  “She told us all about your case and your clients, the Templetons,” Liam added. “Vincent took the hoof, and he should have the DNA analysis results by tomorrow morning.” He paused. “If the hoof does belong to the centaur Peasblossom mentioned, Stasya, then it sounds like you know who did it.”

  I pulled the shirt tighter around me, careful not to squish the pixie in the pocket. It was seventy-five degrees out, but thanks to what amounted to a really bad sunburn, I was freezing. “If the hoof is Stasya’s, then my money is on Ian Walsh. Of the suspects I’m looking at, he’s the only one who’d have a reason to hurt her.”

  Liam nodded and took the keys out of the ignition before getting out of the truck. He opened the door to the backseat and held out a hand. “Come on, I’ll walk you up.”

  My heart pounded so hard I couldn’t hear myself think. Liam couldn’t walk me to my apartment, not with Flint’s scent hanging all over the place. How would I explain that? “That’s all right, I’ll be fine.” I gestured to the pocket of his shirt. “I have Peasblossom.”

  Liam stared a me for a long moment, but before he could answer, a car pulled in beside us. Vincent sat in the front seat of my rental car, the bag with Stasya’s hoof lying on the seat beside him. He caught my eye and waved before taking the keys out of the ignition and opening the door.

  “It’s drivable, but I wouldn’t count on getting your security deposit back,” Vincent said, circling around Liam’s truck to stand beside the werewolf. He held the bag with Stasya’s hoof in one hand and his staff in the other. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired.” I slid out of the truck, fixing the werewolf and the wizard with the most confidence-inspiring smile I could manage while I prayed I wouldn’t fall over. “Thank you both for all your help. Vincent, I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

  He nodded and started to say something as he handed me my keys, but Liam spoke up first. “I have some work to finish up in the morning tomorrow, but I’ll get ahold of you after that.”

  I tried to keep the dismay from my face. I’d known as soon as I saw him get out of his truck that accepting Liam’s help would mean letting him in on the case. I didn’t know if it was being a cop or being an alpha, or if Liam would have been a control freak regardless of either, but it was what it was.

  Flint will be thrilled.

  “I’ll call you,” I said tiredly. “Goodnight. And thank you again.”

  I could feel both men staring at me as I walked into the building, and I gritted my teeth as I forced myself to concentrate on every step, all my effort going into staying upright. The last thing I needed was to give Liam an excuse to insist on escorting me to my door. Forget Flint’s scent, what if the sidhe was there?

  Blessedly, I made it to the apartment without incident. It took me two tries to get the key in the door, and when I stepped into the darkness inside, it took everything I had not to just lie down on the floor and go to sleep. Goddess, I was tired. I closed the door behind me and turned.

  Someone flipped a light switch, flooding the apartment with a golden glow that was far too harsh after the soft darkness. I hissed and blinked, trying to make my eyes adjust faster as I raised a hand. I wasn’t ready to use a spell, I didn’t have anywhere near the energy to concentrate properly, but the sudden rush of adrenaline helped. I’d get at least one shot off.

  “What. Have. You. Done?”

  Flint’s voice grated against my ears, and I dropped my hand. “It’s you.” I sighed and leaned against the wall. “You shouldn’t startle me, not after the day I’ve—”

  Before I could finish the sentence, Flint hurled himself out of the chair he’d been sitting in, moving with unnatural speed to stand in front of me, crowding me until I pressed harder against the wall, my pulse skipping a beat. His hazel eyes had melted to a polished tiger’s eye, his temper bringing his power to the forefront. He glared at me without moving a muscle and I stood completely, utterly still.

  “Barbara called. Roger is in a coma? Because of you?”

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm my rapid heartbeat. “I had to put him to sleep to save his life. EMS put him in the coma.”

  Flint’s face darkened even further. He planted a hand on the wall beside my head, leaned in until I could feel his breath on my face when he spoke. “What. Happened?”

  “Someone bound him. When I questioned him, he tried to answer me, and the spell almost killed him.” I tried to straighten up, ignoring the way it brought my face closer to the angry sidhe. “He would have died if I hadn’t put him to sleep.”

  “You should have seen the binding. You should have known about it before you questioned him,” Flint snarled. “You have destroyed my relationship with Barbara. It took me years to earn her trust, and now it’s gone. Gone in an afternoon, gone after one pathetic mistake.” His lip curled in disgust. “I needed you to solve this case, and now what chance do you have? She won’t talk to you again. She won’t talk to me.”

  I took a breath to respond, but suddenly a furrow appeared between Flint’s eyebrows. He looked down at my shirt, seeming to notice my unusual attire for the first time. A golden shine slid over his light brown irises, and when his eyes met mine, the breath froze in my lungs. He took another step forward, his chest brushing Liam’s shirt.

  “What have you been doing, Shade?” he asked softly. He lifted a hand to touch the collar of the shirt, drawing a finger down my collar bone. “Or should I say who?”

  I gritted my teeth. The urge to
slap his hand away made my palm itch, and the fury rising inside me chased back my exhaustion. “I was attacked. A fire elemental burned my shirt off, and a friend was kind enough to give me his.”

  Flint held my gaze for a long minute, weighing my words, feeling out the truth of them. Slowly, he reached for the shirt and began unfastening the buttons. I fisted my hands at my sides, resisting the desire to slap him, or punch him, or hit him with a spell that would wipe that look off his face, that look that was always more intimate than it had any right to be. By the time he parted the material of the shirt, I was breathing heavily, so angry I could barely see straight.

  He studied the bandages on my shoulder and arm, gently probing at them with one hand.

  “You have scissors in that pouch of yours, I assume?” he asked.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  He stared at me and a warning crept into his gaze, a tarnished glint to his tiger’s eye irises. I pressed my lips together and groped for the zipper to my pouch, probing around inside and flinging out random objects as I searched for the requested scissors. Flint’s jaw tightened with every object that hit the floor, but he didn’t look at the plastic toys, or knots of twisty ties. Finally, I slapped the scissors into his waiting palm.

  He cut away the bandage on my shoulder, the gentleness and care of his movements belying the heat in his eyes. The bandage fell away and the bitter scent of sulfadiazine tickled my nose. He stared at the burn, then held his hand over the skin, feeling the heat emanating from the dark red flesh. I winced and wished I’d asked Vincent for healing after all. He removed the second bandage and examined it the same way.

  “How bad was this before you healed it?” he asked.

  “Fire elemental bad,” I answered, not bothering to hide my anger. “And I could be healed completely if you would let me restock my healing potions.”

  “You rely too much on potions and too much on healing. If you want to survive, then you need to be smarter. Smart enough not to get injured in the first place.”

  “Easy to say for a sidhe,” I spat. “If I healed as fast as you, I wouldn’t need the potions.”