Shadow's Pleasure: The Shadow Warder Series, Book Two (A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (21 page)

Shifting his stance again, Kiernan’s gaze swept the open parking lot of the strip mall once more. Then the narrow lot in back. Sorcha was still pacing, eyes bouncing around like a pinball. Wall, dumpster, sky, asphalt, wall again. Everything looked normal. Rush hour was winding down. The two restaurants in the strip mall were doing a brisk business. He was about ready for dinner himself. Lunch hadn’t been that long ago, but they’d slept through breakfast.

Only the sound of sliding gravel warned him of attack. One second he was scanning the passing cars, the next he heard a scrape. A heartbeat later, Kiernan was on his back on the asphalt, a hard forearm at his throat. He didn’t even have to look at his attacker’s face to know.
Sicarius
.

There was no prickle of Voratus, and the arm at his throat was far too strong to be a human. No regular Warder could take Kiernan to the ground so quickly. Only a Sicarius could overcome him so easily. Aiden Mackensie. Fuck. Aiden Mackensie was no joke. None of the Sicari were, but Aiden was just a hair deadlier than the rest. Which was why Michael had assigned him to the case. Kiernan considered not fighting back. Aiden wasn’t after him. He was after Conner. He just needed to talk to Kiernan. But Aiden wasn’t going to kill him. It might have been smarter to go with passive acceptance. That wasn’t Kiernan’s style.

With a grunt and a heave of his lower body, Kiernan threw them both to the side, rolling until he could get his knees under him. Aiden grappled for purchase, grabbing hold of Kiernan’s upper arms, trying to throw him on his back. Kiernan ripped his right arm free and threw a punch. Aiden dodged, but not fast enough to evade Kiernan’s fist.

The punch caught his jawbone, rocking Aiden back and giving Kiernan a little space. He looked behind him for Sorcha. The Sicari usually worked alone, but just in case Aiden was trying something new, Kiernan wanted to make sure she was safe. At first, he thought she’d disappeared. Then he spotted her, tucked behind the edge of a dumpster, watching the fight from a semi-secure location. Good enough.

The moment of distraction cost him. His cheekbone exploded with pain as Aiden’s fist connected. Not one to wait around, Aiden turned his follow-through into an elbow strike back into the other side of Kiernan’s face.
Fucker
. Kiernan was going to make him pay for that. Aiden could have just called out and said he wanted to talk. But that wasn’t how this Sicari worked. Aiden wasn’t known for his conversational skills.

Tired of fucking around, Kiernan kicked out, connecting with Aiden’s kneecap. The Sicarius gave a grunt but didn’t release his hold on Kiernan’s arm. Kiernan twisted his torso, half rolling to the side, and yanked hard on his left arm, just as he swung again with his right. He missed Aiden’s eye socket but managed to pull his arm free.

Both he and Aiden were on their feet seconds later, facing one another a few feet apart. Out of the corner of his eye, Kiernan caught a glimpse of Sorcha circling them, trying to get behind Aiden. Kiernan shifted to block Aiden’s view of her. Stupid. Protecting Sorcha was instinctive, but if Aiden was this close, he’d undoubtedly seen Sorcha already.

Aiden reached for his back pocket. Kiernan caught a gleam of shining metal before Aiden launched himself at Kiernan, almost taking him to the ground again. At the last second, Kiernan sidestepped, and instead of hitting him in the gut, Aiden caught his shoulder, spinning Kiernan to the side. The second of triumph was cut off by the cold circle of metal that closed on his right wrist. A brutal yank spun Kiernan off balance. Aiden had his other wrist secured a few seconds later.

Rage washed through Kiernan. He couldn’t remember the last time he was bested in a fight. It had been years. And then it had been his friend Gabe. Also a Sicarius. These fuckers were trained to fight on a different level than the rest of the Warders. Kiernan’s skills had been honed fighting demons. The Sicari learned to kill their own. Big difference.

Knowing it was a waste of effort, Kiernan pivoted on his left foot, kicking out with his right, aiming straight for Aiden’s balls. He was probably setting himself up to be thrown to the cracked pavement. High kicks like that were asking for trouble. A smart fighter went for the knees and below when his opponent had time to block the kick. But he couldn’t resist trying to get in one last strike. Even if it was a dirty one.

It would have played out exactly how he’d envisioned it: Kiernan going for the kick, Aiden catching his foot in both hands, twisting while Kiernan was off balance and sending him straight to the ground with one easy throw. Except for the brilliant blue ball of flame speeding directly at Aiden’s chest. It struck just as Aiden reached for Kiernan’s foot, driving him back. Kiernan missed his balls, but the added velocity of landing the kick on Aiden’s leg drove him all the way to the rear wall of the strip mall. A second fireball shot through the air, pinning Aiden to the brick before dissipating, dropping him to a graceless sprawl on the asphalt.

Kiernan turned to see Sorcha striding over, her eyes burning green orbs in her flushed face. She stopped behind him and tugged on the cuffs Aiden had secured around his wrists. One quick touch and she let go of them.

“Spell craft,” she hissed. “They must be Mysterium-made. I can’t break these.”

“I’m guessing neither can I,” Kiernan said. He eyed Aiden, slumped against the wall. The Sicarius looked defeated. An act. Sorcha’s fireballs were potent, but if the Sicarius was conscious, he was dangerous. Sorcha moved toward Aiden. “Scorch, stop. Don’t get any closer to him,” Kiernan said, eyeing their opponent, ready to defend Sorcha against any sudden moves.

“I’m not,” she said, stopping a few feet away from Aiden. “Give me the keys,” she said.

Aiden’s eyes narrowed at her. The Sicarius’s shirt had burned away from his chest in a perfect circle, the edges of the hole charred and smoldering. Here and there small flares of red fell to the ground, as if the burning fabric was shedding tiny hot coals. The skin exposed by the ruined shirt was an ugly mess. Burned raw, the damaged flesh was already weeping blood, blisters forming before his eyes. It had to hurt like a mother. Aiden needed to be healed. Before he could suggest it, Sorcha spoke. He’d never heard this tone in her voice before. Angry. Hard. Merciless.

“Give me the fucking keys,” she said again. Aiden sat up a little, eyeing her as if she was a rabid dog. He remained silent. Sorcha looked to her side, studying Kiernan. “You okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Kiernan said. “Don’t take your eyes off him. He may be on the ground, but he’s still dangerous.”

In response, a glowing ball of rosy pink fire spun to life in Sorcha’s hand. Like cotton candy at a carnival, it began as little more than a wisp, gathering in heat and density as it spun until it was the size of a softball. He didn’t know the difference between the blue fireball and the pink fireball, but Kiernan would bet they both hurt like a bitch.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, watching Aiden again.

“I’m fine,” Kiernan repeated. He locked eyes with Aiden. “It was just a friendly fight. Right? Or were you trying to kill me? I was under the impression that I was a known associate, not a target.”

“My information suggested that you would be hostile,” Aiden said. He shifted until he was upright, still leaning against the wall. Only his tight jaw revealed his pain.

“Yeah, I’m usually hostile as fuck when someone jumps me with no warning. Are you going to take these off?” Kiernan gave a shake of the cuffs behind his back.

“Not feeling real inclined to let you go.”

“Get inclined,” Sorcha said. “I can heal those burns, or I can give you more. Choose.”

“Scorch,” Kiernan said. “Stand down.”

“Fuck that. He attacked us.”

“He’s doing his job,” Kiernan said. He suspected the Shadows had nothing like the Sicari. Aiden may have jumped Kiernan, and Kiernan was pissed about it, but he’d been doing what he was born to do. The trick, in this case, was understanding what they were dealing with.

The Sicari were often called assassins. The term was inaccurate. They were highly trained soldiers who policed both the Warders and the Vorati. They believed in the Warder mission to safeguard humanity and they would protect that mission against all threats, including their own. If Kiernan and Sorcha could convince Aiden that his orders were corrupt, they might be able to turn him.

“Your target is Conner Munro?” Kiernan asked Aiden. Aiden nodded once. “Michael initiated the assignment?” Another nod. Kiernan ignored his cuffed wrists and leaned forward, taking a dangerous risk. “We’re tracking three missing Shadows who Michael kidnapped ten months ago. He’s working with a Voratus to try to create a Shadow-Warder.”

Aiden stared at Kiernan for a beat. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

Sorcha almost forgot the fireball spinning above her hand when the assassin tipped his head back and burst out laughing. During the quick, brutal fight with Kiernan he’d looked like a sleek, deadly predator. They both had. Slumped against the wall, he’d been less dangerous, but still serious. As if his work had honed him into a blade and nothing more. His eyes were careful and calculating, as they’d flicked between her and Kiernan. She had the feeling he was cataloguing everything he saw, saving the information to analyze later. He’d struck her as a brain surrounded by muscle, without heart or soul. With amusement flooding his expression, she saw that he was handsome. Not quite as hot as Kiernan, but worth more than a second look.

Short, dark hair revealed a finely-built face. High cheekbones, dark brows and lashes around unusually light, golden brown eyes. Full, sensual lips. He was an inch or two taller than Kiernan, with a similar build, all broad shoulders and long, lean muscles. A disaster of burns and rising blisters covered his six-pack.

A wave of nausea hit Sorcha. She’d done that. She’d burned him. On purpose. She’d seen him jump Kiernan, had seen the blood explode from the cut on Kiernan’s cheek after the second punch. And then he’d presumed to cuff Kiernan like he was a criminal. He was sent by the evil bastard they were tracking, and he had the gall to treat Kiernan as if he were the one in the wrong. Sorcha admitted to herself that she’d lost it. But to hurt someone this way? She opened her mouth to offer to heal him and then snapped it shut. First, they needed the keys to the cuffs. Would Kiernan’s plan work? Complete honesty was a risk, but it was probably their best chance.

“I’ll give you points for creativity,” the Sicarius said.

“We’re not making it up,” Kiernan said. “Michael’s into some bad shit. I don’t expect you to believe me. Just give us a chance to fill you in, and you can look into it yourself.”

“He suggested you’d attempt to talk me into leaving Conner alone,” the Warder said, his head now tilted to the side in a position that made him look oddly like a young boy. Thoughtful. Curious.

“I’m not talking about Conner. I’m talking about Michael. Are you telling me you didn’t sense anything off about him? Nothing?”

“He was using spell craft,” the Warder admitted.

“On you?” Kiernan asked sounding surprised.

“Not on me. But there was spell craft around him. More than you’d have from a single spell. It was odd.”

“Seen Gabe lately?” Kiernan asked casually.

Sorcha stared at him. As a non sequitur it was perfect. If confusion was what Kiernan was going for. To her, he made no sense. The Warder, on the other hand, sharpened his gaze.

“What does Gabe have to do with this?” he asked.

“With our little stand-off here? Nothing. With the bigger picture? I don’t know. You tell me.”

Silence. The Warder stared at Kiernan, then Sorcha, apparently thinking. Then he said, “It’s possible my information may be incomplete.”

Kiernan nodded in response. And Sorcha ran out of patience. Kiernan was sitting on the asphalt in spelled cuffs, their attacker was a mess of blood and blisters, and she was still holding a bright pink fireball in her hand. Were the two of them going to chat until dark?

“Are you going to give me the keys?” she asked, raising her hand in the air. “Or am I going to use this on you?” She swallowed hard at the idea of throwing the fireball at the already injured Warder. Going with their honesty theme, she said, “I’d really prefer not to use this. I’d rather unlock Kiernan so we can all go back to his place, talk about what’s going on, and I can heal those burns. But if you don’t agree to at least hear us out, I’ll burn you to fucking ash and get the keys that way.”

The injured Warder lifted a hand in a staying gesture. “Is she for real?” he asked Kiernan.

“I wouldn’t push her, if that’s what you’re asking,” Kiernan said.

The Warder reached into his back pocket and pulled out the keys, wincing as he twisted the burns on his torso. Lifting the keys, he jingled them at Sorcha.

She shook her head. “Toss them over here. I’m not getting anywhere near you until Kiernan is free.”

Obediently, he tossed her the keys. Releasing the energy in the fireball, Sorcha caught them in midair.

As she knelt behind Kiernan to unlock the cuffs, she heard the Warder ask, “What is she?”