Touch If You Dare (9 page)

“Don’t even think about it,” Jarvis said. “Leave.” His fingers twitched on the sword. “Or stay and fight. I’d be down with that.” Well, not really. He had a feeling that if he let go a little bit, he was going to lose it all. But that didn’t stop the hate monster inside him from wanting to engage.

The man glanced at Natalie, then eyed the sword with its black, glowing blade. He inclined his head in capitulation. “I defer.” Then he turned and stepped into a limousine that was waiting by the curb.

The sleek silver car roared and then slipped out of sight around the corner.

Jarvis sheathed his sword. “Okay, Reina. Let’s go.”

“Hey, sweetie,” Reina said softly.

He stiffened at the tenderness of Reina’s voice. Women who spoke like that were never to be trusted. Sword up, he turned sharply, only to see she was stroking Natalie’s cheek, cradling her the way a mother would hug a small child.

His sword dropped at the tenderness of the moment. There was no guile in that embrace. Simple, pure tenderness. For a moment he was too shocked to do anything but stare. The corners of Reina’s mouth were tight, tears were glistening in her eyes, and her shoulders were shaking. With relief? Agony? Terror?

He took a step toward her. Wanting to help her. To ease her pain. He had a sword. He could kick the ass of anything that was scaring her. He was good at that. Really good.

“Hey, Natalie,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here for you.”

The pain on her face was soul-deep anguish. It was so different than the pain when a warrior got his foot spliced by a half-demon succubus. It was real, worse, so deep he could almost feel it in his own gut. He reached out to touch her, not even sure what he was trying to do—

Then something hit him in the back of the head and he was out.

Reina looked up as Jarvis teetered forward and toppled over, landing beside her with a thump. For a second, she was too surprised to move. Seriously, it wasn’t every day that a towering hunk of manliness went belly-up on Newbury Street for no apparent reason.

Had the sight of female bonding been too much for his scarred and tortured soul to handle? A late afternoon sugar crash? Or was it some Pavlovian response to something Angelica had drilled into him? Not that it mattered. Even the tall, dark warriors harboring undefined black souls were supposed to always be on their feet and ready to defend, preserve, and protect. “Um, Jarvis?”

She patted his unresponsive cheek, then she noticed the five pointed pink star protruding from the back of his head. “Jarvis!” She threw herself over his inert from instinctively, trying to protect him.

She knew who carried pink stars. She knew who killed with pink stars. She knew who
assassinated
with pink stars.
Please let me be wrong.
Cautiously, so ridiculously terrified of what she might find, she sniffed.

Rotten bananas.

“Hello, my dear,” a well-cultured male voice drifted over the afternoon air.

She scrambled to her feet, and there he was, less than ten yards away. Augustus.
Not Good.

The world’s most well-decorated and highly sought after assassin was every bit as scary as she’d thought he would be. At least two inches over the five foot mark, his skin was crusty, and a half-smoked cigar was dangling from the left side of his mouth. A tattered cowboy hat was askew on his balding head, a few gray hairs were protruding from his chin, and his purple velvet slippers seemed to be a sign of impending insanity, which was never a good thing when it came to professional killers.

He smiled, a thin, nasty smile that would have made
the nearest cockroach run for cover. “Reina Fleming, I presume.”

He’d come for her? “Oh, I’m so sorry. Reina died ten minutes ago. You just missed her.”

But in a horrifically unfair state of affairs, the ultimate bad boy had enough brain cells to realize she was lying. “I heard you wanted to kill me.”

“You did?” She’d gotten her assignment less than two hours ago. If she was still alive to text after Augustus left, she would let her boss know that his impenetrable safeguards had been violated… hmm… had Death himself leaked the news? Was he setting her up to fail?

Of course he was. That would be just like him, wouldn’t it? Hadn’t he told her that he was far too complex for a linear, simplistic assignment? Anyone with the ability to comprehend the blatantly obvious would know that she had no chance against Augustus, so if Death had sent the ultimate black sheep after her, then it meant he was trying to get her fired in the most permanent way.

Men could be so despicable sometimes. Weren’t women supposed to be the ones who were plotting,
circuitous, and resourceful, and men were simply supposed to put their heads down and charge? Hello? Had someone failed to copy her on the gender reversal memo?

“Of course I know you need to kill me,” Augustus said. “Do you think I would dominate my esteemed profession if I didn’t have an extensive underground network of people willing to betray others to keep me alive in return for a payoff so paltry it insults their intelligence?” He ripped open his black satin shirt to reveal an unexpectedly well-muscled chest and a black tattoo in the shape of a chicken over his heart. “I’m busy, so I thought I’d make this easy for me. We’ll do it Old West style.”

Oh, this did not feel good. “Do what?” she asked warily. She poked Jarvis with her toe, but the menacing hottie didn’t budge. Was he dying? Fear edged at her, and she risked a quick glance. His chest was moving. Still alive. Relief rippled through her, and she nudged him again. “Jarvis,” she whispered. “I need you.”

No response.

She did a quick look around to see if anyone else could help her, but the street was eerily empty, as if every living creature had sensed the need to stay away from the purple slipper killer. All the wannabe studs who’d been queued up outside Scrumptious? Gone. Where were the male heroes, huh? What happened to rescuing a damsel in distress? No wonder these studs needed virility balls. Any man who took off at the sight of the perennial all-star assassin was not a real man.

Not that she needed a man to rescue her, of course. It was simply an observation. But hey, if there was a man who
wanted
do to the hero thing and help her, well, why not contribute to his ego and self-esteem? As a woman, wasn’t it her girly duty to help build up the testosterone level in every male who had the potential to, you know, save her life? A man like Jarvis.

She quickly knelt beside the warrior in question, pulled her sleeve over her hand to protect it, then yanked the star out of his head. She lightly tapped his shoulder. “Jarvis? Can you hear me?”

Augustus pulled out another pink star and lodged it under her chin. “To your feet, my dear.”

She stood, her heart racing. Yeah, some people might say, hey, how convenient that she didn’t have to search for Augustus. But her sickle was back at the store, and her death dust was so useless she hadn’t been able to coax even a yawn out of the Godfather, so she wasn’t feeling the love for the fortuitous turns of life. The odds in a mano a mano with Augustus weren’t exactly skewed in her direction under the best of circumstances, but right now? She was bottoming out, in a big way.

Augustus grinned. “We’re going to have a gun fight, modern day style.”

Let’s see… no sickle, no time to prepare, and trying to kill Augusts when he was ready and waiting? Not such a good plan. “Listen, I appreciate the offer, but this isn’t a good time. My sister—”

“Hey,” Augustus interrupted. “The focus should be on
me
right now. Not your sister.” He tossed his shirt onto the street and flexed his muscles. “My therapist said I’m not enjoying my work as much as I used to, so he’s instructed me to find more joy in my day. I’m starting with you.”

Crap. She needed to stall him. As soon as Trinity finished multiple orgasming, she’d be out here and could bring the sickle and advice. Trinity had killed a lot of people. She’d know what to do. “Really? You’re not enjoying being an assassin? But you’re so good at it.”

“I know I am, but I’m letting the grind get to me.” He loosened his gun belt so it sat lower on his hips. “How does one lose the passion for something so near and dear to one’s heart? Is it the pressure of staying at the top? Of surpassing my annual income each year? Of setting another record for the most consecutive number of years receiving the Assassin of the Year award?”

“You hate killing?” Well, wasn’t that dandy news. If Augustus couldn’t stomach knocking out souls before their time, how was she supposed to be okay with it?

He shoved the weapon into his left holster then set his hands on his hips. “I wake up every morning, look at my list of people I need to kill, and I just want to roll over and go back to sleep.” He pulled out another pink star and tossed it carelessly into his right holster, clearly not taking the time to savor the moment. “My therapist suggested going back to my beginnings and trying to rediscover the joy of killing, so I’m giving it a try.” He snapped the holsters shut. “Ready.”

Ready?
Uh, oh. “I don’t think—”

“Hey!” Trinity shouted, and Reina turned to see her friend running down the sidewalk toward her.

“One hundred paces. Then we draw.” Augustus began marching down the street.

“Trin!” Relief rushed through Reina as her friend neared. “Tell me you brought the sickle.”

“No, I didn’t realize he was out here.” Trinity bent over to catch her breath as she eyed Augustus’s speedy progress down the street. “I’ll never make it back in time. Knock him out, and then we’ll get the sickle while he’s passed out.”

“I don’t know if I can. I couldn’t even knock out the Godfather.”

“Oh, come on! Now is not the time to suffer a crisis of confidence! You heard Death say that the powder only works if you’re simpatico. You need to get in alignment!”

“Fifty!” Augustus yelled, his bare shoulders gleaming in the afternoon sunshine.

“I’m not ready to die.” Reina’s hands started to tremble. “Maybe I should just run away. Give myself time to prepare—”

“Hey, Sis, you can totally do this. I believe in you. Death is your thing.”

“Nat?” Reina whirled around and saw Natalie was sitting up. Her relief at seeing her sister conscious faded when she saw how her sister’s eyes were sparkling. She looked way too happy. “Shouldn’t you be a little worried right now?”

“Seventy-five!” Augustus shouted.

“I’m giving up living in fear.” Nat hopped to her feet cheerfully. “After a lifetime of being terrified of dying, it’s a relief not to have my stomach churning with fear, angst, and general misery. I want to feel good.”

“Dear Saints alive,” Augustus yelled. “The girl gets it! It’s all about enjoying the ride!”

Nat waved at him. “I do get it, and it feels great,” she shouted back.

Oh, God. Like she needed to have her sister bonding with the man who was about to murder her. That was just the ultimate insult to an already bad day. “Nat—”

“Does being miserable and terrified keep bad things from happening?” There was the weight of extreme heaviness behind the cheerfulness on Natalie’s face. “No, but it destroys the quality of time you do have left. I feel good for the first time in my life, and I like it. I don’t want to be terrified anymore. I still want to live, but I’m not going to resist the joy and delight in the meantime.”

Damn. That almost made sense.

“Eighty-five,” Augustus shouted. “My name is Augustus,” he called to Natalie. “May I take you to dinner sometime? I’d love to find out how you developed such a fantastic attitude.”

“I got bitten by a deedub. Dinner’s a maybe,” Natalie said easily. “I might be dead.”

Fat chance of that. Nat’s death sentence ended now, no matter what Reina had to do to make it happen. The bad guy was distracted, the good girl was talking about her upcoming demise, and the superhero sister was going to step up.

“Dead?” Augustus sounded aghast. “But I need you! You can’t die now!”

Augustus was too far away to risk powdering. She had to mist close to him and strike before he noticed she was there. She’d already used up one of her two allotted mists (saving her sister from orgasm central had been well worth it), so this was her last one. But it was the right moment. Augustus was upset, engrossed in her sister, and this was the best chance she was going to get.

“You must change your plans!” he shouted at Natalie. “I forbid you to die until I have gleaned all pertinent information from you about how to enjoy life!”

Reina let her eyes go gold and black. The street shifted into black and white vision, and she flexed her hand. Black death dust filtered through her skin and filled her palm.

“Ninety! I mean ninety-one.” Augustus was barely paying attention to the Showdown at High Noon. “How can I get bitten by a deedub?”

Reina flexed her palm.
You are one with the powder.

“The effects of a deedub bite are mixed,” Natalie explained. “You’ll be happy, but then you die.”