“Why me?” Jaxon had asked as he’d plopped into the seat in front of his boss’s desk, immediately wanting to snatch back the words. He knew why, and no one liked to hear they were being given a job simply because they were the last option, the only person available.
Mia Snow, Jack’s right-hand agent, was busy training New Chicago’s newest recruits, young girls fresh from boot camp. And Mia’s partner, Dallas, had been unstable ever since his recovery from a near-death experience.
Jack popped a handful of antacids, chewed, swallowed audibly. “Not why you’re thinking, obviously. One, you’re the calmest man I know. And two, you can get answers out of a dead man.” More antacids. “Oh, yeah. And the fewer people who know those answers, the less chance of panic. This is all very hush-hush.”
Later that night, when Jaxon opened the folder and began reading, he hadn’t felt calm. He’d felt panicked.
Seemed a new alien race had snuck their way onto the planet.
Government was calling them Schön. Beautiful in German. There’d been a few sightings here and there, and their numbers seemed to be small. No more than eleven, so no big deal. After all, a new alien race seemed to arrive every fucking day. Not that he was bitter or anything. What brought the Schön under A.I.R. scrutiny, however, was the fact that they excreted some kind of toxic liquid.
The liquid not only killed, it did something far worse.
These otherworlder men were, apparently, so lovely to gaze upon, human women were throwing themselves at them. And every woman who did so ended up in the hospital with grade-nine hallucinations, losing touch with reality more and more every day until finally developing a hunger for human flesh they couldn’t suppress.
Jaxon had interviewed them in both the beginning and ending stages of the sickness. His stomach rolled with the memory. He hadn’t told anyone what he’d learned and wasn’t going to until he’d processed the information himself. Panic? Jack had no idea.
After the interviews, well, the women had needed to be put down like animals and Jaxon had been the one to do it. He’d hated himself for it, still hated himself, but there’d been no other recourse. Those females would have eaten their own young—literally—if they’d been allowed to live.
He should be on the streets right now, hunting the Schön. Until they were destroyed, more and more victims would surface. Didn’t take a psychic to figure that out, just a person with half a brain. Jaxon qualified. Right now, he felt like only half of his remained. If he didn’t get out there soon…
You know Jack. He’s got someone on the streets already, doing what you were supposed to be doing. Jaxon tried to take comfort in that.
“What thoughts tumble through your mind, hmm?”
Jaxon blinked, the woman inside his cell coming into gradual focus. He must have drifted, because he hadn’t heard her move, yet she was now crouched in front of him. Her long legs straddled his and she was gently cupping his cheeks in her soft hands. One of her palms was warm, the other cool and silky, as if it were covered by some kind of material and ice was packed underneath.
Though his vision was murky and distilled, he was quite certain he’d never been closer to perfection. Her eyes were mesmerizing onyx and framed by midnight. Her skin was pale and smooth, lickable cream. Her nose perfectly sloped. Her cheekbones a work of art. Her lips a fantasy come to life. Plump, red, luscious, the kind of lips a man usually had to pay for to enjoy.
Her scent was stronger now, all the better, and he thought he caught a hint of jasmine. Wild, exotic. Like the woman herself?
Like it mattered. Much as he wanted to, he didn’t delude himself. She was a professional torturer and killer, had probably studied the human body so that she knew every sensitive place and the best ways to enforce maximum pain.
“You won’t even give me a tiny little hint?” she beseeched, her long lashes fluttering, beckoning him deeper into the black sea of her gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Hint?” He played stupid. Sadly, it was not a difficult task. “Hint about what?”
What was she wearing?
Finally, a silver lining to his ravaged face. He couldn’t see clearly enough to discern her clothing, which meant, in his mind, she was wearing lingerie. Black, like her eyes. With sheer lace. She had small breasts, but they were soft and pink-tipped.
Despite his condition, his dick lengthened, thickened, hardened.
Marie gave a sweet little gasp, as if she felt that hardness, but didn’t move away. “I didn’t expect such a response from you. You’re surprising me at every turn, Jaxon Tremain.”
She spoke as if she were weaving a spell, soft and melodic, her voice lulling him, drawing him in and holding him under. What would she sound like during orgasm?
Damn, where were these thoughts coming from?
He heard Thomas groan impatiently, but he didn’t care. “You should unchain me,” he told Marie, using his most seductive voice. “We should go on a date.”
A pause, a frown. Her head tilted to the side as she studied him more intently. Frown deepening, she reached for his left wrist, caught herself, and stilled. She gulped and licked her lips. “And what would we do on this date?”
Jaxon imagined he heard a wistful note in her tone. “We’d have lots and lots of fun.”
“Oh, really.” Her frown softened at the edges, adding all kinds of sexy to her expression. “My type of fun or yours?”
He knew what she was asking: pain or pleasure. “Mine, but I’m sure we could incorporate some of yours if you asked me nicely.”
“Marie, this is—” Thomas interrupted.
Her entire body stiffened, and her chin whipped to the side as she pierced the alien with a fierce glare. “Shut it, Thomas. You’ve already pissed me off once. Want to make it twice?”
Silence.
Jaxon latched onto the chance to examine her more closely. In profile, her chin had a stubborn jut to it and her ear was studded with multiple diamonds. She had shoulder-length hair, straight as a ruler, and he wished he had the strength to reach up and sift the pale velvet strands through his fingers. Wished he had the good fortune to have the strands spread over his thighs while she sucked him dry. Like you can handle that right now, idiot.
“I’m losing you again.” Facing him once more, Marie stroked her fingers over his cheeks, careful, so careful of his bruises. “Blood loss affecting your concentration, sweet?”
“Sorry. What?”
She uttered a warm chuckle. “An apology, after everything that’s been done to you. How surprising.” Another chuckle. “You were about to give me a hint. About the Schön, their virus, and the women they’ve infected.”
When he pressed his lips together, her warmth vanished.
Tick. Christ! Not the clock. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
“You look like you’re in a lot of pain, Jaxon.” Her voice was all business now. “Tell me what I desire, and the pain ends. The agony stops. You have my word.”
As they had every other time he’d been asked, fifteen years of fieldwork and a year of training kicked into gear. Always deny. A single detail can blow an entire case. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tock.
There was a heavy pause. “Would you know if I cut off one of your testicles and you had to watch Thomas eat it?” Violent as the question was, she asked it with the sweetness of an angel. One of her brows arched as she waited for his answer.
“Ouch.” How many times had she performed that little operation? “Nope. I’m afraid that wouldn’t jog my memory. How could it? I don’t know anything.” Tick.
“Is it bad that I was hoping you’d say that?” She didn’t wait for his response. “Thomas, be a dear and hand me Damocles.”
“Mmm, excellent choice,” the alien said happily. A few seconds later, metal whistled against syn-leather, and then Thomas was grinning and clomping to Marie’s side.
Now Jaxon arched a brow. Or rather, hoped he did. Most of his facial muscles were currently unworkable. He hoped he looked interested rather than terrified. “Damocles? You name your weapons?”
“You mean you don’t?” she asked in surprise. She gripped the hilt of a sword, and he could see sharp, curved steel glistening from the only bulb hanging from the ceiling.
At least it was clean, no rusty, metallic aroma wafting from it.
“No,” he said. “Never have.”
“A shame, since they can be a person’s best friend.”
“Or worst enemy.”
She tapped the end of his nose with her free hand, the one uncovered. Warm. “Had you been armed at your home, you might not have been taken. Best friend.”
At the patient censure in her tone, he barked out a laugh. “Lesson learned, believe me.”
“Sadly, it’s too late.”
Ticktock, ticktock. For some reason, all of his emotions drained from him. He should have been more afraid than ever. Should have been trembling, pissing his pants. Something. Instead, the only emotion that returned and stayed was a curious sense of relief.
Finally, the beatings would stop. The rape wouldn’t happen. And maybe the afterlife would pair him with an angel who looked just like Marie. Minus the penchant for killing, of course.
When did you become such a pussy? Fight this! Fight her.
“Last chance to tell me what I want to know,” she said, pressing the cold steel to his neck.
One second passed. Another. When he continued to remain silent, she nicked the skin until a bead of blood trickled. Thankfully the ticking did not resume. Odd, though, since these were most likely his last moments on Earth.
She pressed harder.
He gave no reaction to the sting. Hell, a little prick was nothing compared to what he’d already endured. Slowly she lowered her hand, gliding the blade over his bare chest, cutting skin along the way. She reached his navel, twirled paper-thin slices all around, then stopped right between his denim-clad legs.
Thomas, who’d remained at her side, chortled with glee. Probably had a hard-on.
God, I hate making him happy. Jaxon swallowed a sudden rise of anger. Not so relieved anymore.
His fight reflex sparked to life, blending with the anger and warring with his need for closure. Sweat poured down his chest.
“Well,” Marie prompted. The tip nicked his pants and pressed between his balls. “Anything to say?”
Closure won. Without him, these people would never be able to find the Schön. And if they couldn’t find the Schön, they couldn’t use them as a weapon against humans, or whatever else they were planning.
Jaxon closed his eyes and said good-bye to one of his favorite body parts. I love you little guys. We had some good times together.
“Last chance, Jaxon.”
His gaze met Marie’s, locking, clashing. Unflinching. “I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her lush lips rose in an exquisite smile, lighting her entire face. Just then she was the perfect blend of good and evil, innocence and absolute wickedness. His traitorous heart skipped a beat in total, masculine appreciation. Her teeth were straight and white, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out the center as if she were nibbling on it. “That answer just saved your life,” she said, and then her arm lashed to the side and she stabbed Thomas in the stomach.
Blood sprayed Jaxon’s face as Marie moved her blade in and out. The alien jerked and gasped in pained shock. Jaxon could only watch, morbidly awed, utterly confused. That death blow had been meant for him. Hadn’t it?
Smile becoming dark, lethal, Marie rose on her knees, twisting her wrist to drive the blade even deeper while hacking at every organ she could reach. “Enjoy hell, you sick fuck. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
Thomas collapsed in a motionless heap, convulsing to his death, and all Jaxon could do was stare over at him, wondering what the hell was going on.
CHAPTER 2
Mishka Le’Ace—aka Marie—stuffed her hands into the dead alien’s pants pocket, searching for the key to Jaxon’s chains. Thomas had a deathly fear of ID scans, which would have been needed to open and close a good pair of lasercuffs. A.I.R. could, theoretically, capture the signal and hunt him down. Not that she’d ever seen it done.
But fears were universal, unreasonable, and sometimes uncontrollable. Usually she whined about the lack of technology, practically begging Thomas to try it. Today she was thankful for his continued refusal, for it saved her a hell of a lot of time. Rather than disable wires, burning both her and Jaxon, all she had to do was insert a piece of metal and twist her wrist.
When her fingers curled around the key, she tugged it out and rushed to the agent she’d been sent to rescue. Or kill. Everything had hinged on his ability to keep a secret.
Amazingly enough, he’d kept his mouth shut. She’d expected him to break the moment she placed the blade to his dick. But he hadn’t, shocking her to the core, and now she would save him.
She wondered what he knew, what surreptitious things danced inside his head. Had to be valuable, perhaps life-altering, otherwise she wouldn’t have been pulled from another job for a simple extraction.
“Think you can walk?” she asked him.
“Who are you?”
His words were slurred, barely understandable. Anger, confusion, and uncertainty pulsed from him. “I’m your new best friend, honey.” Within seconds, she had his ankles and wrists free and was jerking him to his feet. “Your boss sent me.” Kind of.
A hiss of agony escaped him, and he quickly bent one leg at the knee, keeping his foot elevated. “Broken,” he grunted.
