A Shadow's Embrace Page 4

Surrounded by a bunch of scrawny street punks who’d made it quite clear he was just as distrusted as Conver. Fuck. This shit sucked. But he had to grudgingly admit the hideout was perfect.

  He’d gotten a couple blocks with her before a group of punk-ass kids, wielding busted pipes and boards from broken crates, surrounded him and led them down two stories of rickety stairs in an abandoned warehouse. They’d wound through yet another underground maze without uttering a word.

  The buzz of his cellphone startled him. Apparently they weren’t as far underground as he’d thought. Then again, Kaeden insisted they have the best of the best, so Dagan could probably get a signal in hell if necessary. Speak of the devil. Dagan sighed his frustration and took the call—the fifth one in the past hour.

  “Nothing’s changed, Kaeden. You keep calling every ten minutes, I’m gonna stop answering.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that.” Yeah, just as Dagan suspected. Kaeden was in a shit mood. “How is she?”

  Fucking amazing. Devyn had crashed from her adrenaline high a while ago, after making sure he and everyone around her was okay. She’d been running for her life for God only knew how long, and she’d been worried about everyone else.

  “Well, seeing as how she spent most of the day being shot at by Conver’s men, only to then see everything she’d built blown to shit, she’s doing pretty damn good.” Dagan looked over at the makeshift pallet he’d made in the corner. “Anything about her team yet?”

  It had killed him to drag her from that inferno. He’d reconciled himself to Dare and Mia being gone, but he prayed to fuck he wouldn’t have to break that news. Ever.

  “Corbin and Cash are rooting through the rubble as we speak. It’ll only take a couple of objects for them to pick up on what happened, but there’s a lot of debris to sift through to find something Dare or Mia might’ve touched close enough to the event. Half of Chicago showed up to help. I didn’t realize how far her reach on the street went.”

  No shit. Half the street was huddled around her as Dagan spoke with Kaeden. The other half had been and gone, opting to take the first shift to “keep the location secure.” If devotion measured ability, Conver was fucked. These kids meant business when it came to keeping Devyn safe. Their determination alone made Dagan want to keep them all safe, even after Conver’s shit storm blew out of town. Worry weighted their gazes when they regarded Devyn. No, Indy. To them, she would always be Indy.

  When the shock of the day fell away, she’d hate that they’d seen her like this, but Dagan couldn’t think about that right now. He studied the menagerie of urchins who’d drifted from the shadowed corridors over the past couple of hours. The never-ending parade of worried people—none older than twenty as far as he could tell—remained silent, giving him measured, leery regard before each crouched beside Devyn and whispered softly, as though their words would rip her from the comatose state she’d slipped into shortly after the explosion.

  “I’ll work on it from this side. I’m thinking some of Indy’s followers may know something.”

  “Work your way in there. Figure out what we can do to fill in the gap until Indigo Order is back up and running. These kids rely on them a hell of a lot more than I’d realized.”

  “Yeah.” Dagan ended the call and shoved his cell into his pocket.

  Fuck. It’d been a shit day. He didn’t want to deal with this. All he wanted was to carry her off to his pad, lay her out like a feast, and pass out for a year with her beneath him. He’d kept his distance, wanting to focus on the task of keeping the perimeter secure, but his current vantage point offered him a great view of her long, blonde hair tumbling around her. Curled into a ball like a sexy-as-fuck kitten, she slept like the dead. She was so fucking small he’d think she’d disappeared if not for that gorgeous-as-fuck hair—the kind he could sink his fist into and use to hold her in place as he pounded into her from behind.

  He studied the newest vagabond group that had drifted in. They did what the others before them had done—paused several yards away to look over at the tall guy with spiked black and blue hair. Clad in ancient-looking combat boots, baggy jeans and no shirt, he handled the growing crowd with ease, acknowledging each entrant with equal fervor. Kaeden would be impressed. Tattoos sleeved the guy’s arms, spreading upward to run along his upper chest and down to his lower back.

  Dagan waited for a few moments and then headed toward him. The kid was twenty at the most. He offered a chin lift as he stood to his full height and puffed out his chest. The obvious posturing made Dagan want to grab the punk and tuck him into bed where he belonged. Jesus, this shit was not his comfort zone.

  “Thanks for your help today, man,” he said instead.

  “It wasn’t for you, Shadow. Indy’s the shit. She’s the street. We back her and her crew. No matter what.”

  “Name’s Dagan.”

  “You’re all the same to me. A Shadow is a Shadow.”

  “Fair enough. You got a name?”

  “Depends on why you’re asking.”

  “I don’t trust people without a name, first, and I need your help securing De…Indy. Conver’s turning up every rock and inspecting every cracked sidewalk. I need her out of the area stat.” Damn, but he hated relying on others to do what he’d rather handle. “I need a ride, something that’ll blend in.”

  “Indy’s man Rider keeps rides at a garage a ways down the road. Word hit the street about her being jacked up with Conver’s crew. I got some peeps situated down that way. Just in case any of her crew called out for help. Call never got made, but they’re still there. Ready.” He yanked a phone from his overly baggy jeans. “I’ll let ’em know.”

  “It clean?”

  “Far as I know. Rider don’t take risks. It’ll have whatever’s needed ’cause he’s on top of shit.” The punk grimaced and looked over at the still sleeping Devyn. “Indy don’t care for us cussing, especially me. Says I gotta set an example for my crew.”

  “She’s probably right.”

  “Yeah.” The guy’s fingers flew over the phone’s tiny keyboard. “Name’s Diaz. I tried out Flash, but Indy said it made me sound like a perv.”

  The young man’s features softened, his tight hold on his thoughts loosened enough for Dagan to glimpse his fear, his love for Indy. She was like a big sister to him. “Thanks for the help, Diaz. I owe you.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. Like I said, the street’s got Indy’s back. We take care of our own.” He shoved the phone into his pocket and emitted a shrill whistle. Everyone hustled toward him. “Our man Dagan here’s gonna get Indy off radar. Send word to your crews. We need eyes on the street, from here to the edge of town. Secure a path. Keep it breathing until our girl’s gone.”

  Everyone moved out. A buzz of low-level conversation echoed through the catacombs as they headed to the surface. The tightening fist of concern he’d had lodged in his chest loosened.

  He hadn’t realized how tense he’d become over the need to preserve Devyn’s safety. It had been four years since that horrid night when his team’s world imploded. Four years since Nevada and Sage had been killed. Their loss had destroyed Kaeden and Trent. Hell, it had destroyed everyone.

  The twins had been the glue that held their shit together. Without them, the team had fallen apart. Because of Conver slaughtering them, Dagan and the others had finally done what needed to be done—escape the militant stranglehold they’d lived in since birth.

  That’d been the last time he’d felt this determined to keep someone safe. Female Shadow operatives were rare. Something about Devyn’s gritty determination, her resolve, and leadership abilities reminded him of the twins. Fuck, he missed them every day.

  Now wasn’t time to dredge the still waters of past fuckups. He’d need weapons, survival gear, and enough provisions to last a few days. Terrain on the outskirts of Chicago was more suburban than he’d like. What they needed was rural—raw, untouched wilderness. Remoteness was the key to outlasting Conver.

  Conver’s men were spo
iled, too acclimated to relying on technology to offer an edge. It’s why they were still with Conver. Well, that and greed. The fools actually bought into the general’s twisted vision of the future, one where he alone reigned supreme.

  Dumbasses.

  “ETA five minutes,” Diaz stated as he handed over a cell. “Blasted this burn phone’s number to the feet on the street. They’ll guide you out whichever way works fastest. You’ll be on your own from there. Numbers for all Indy’s crew that I’ve got are on it, and mine. You make it southwest enough, to Normal, get in touch with Tricks. Her crew’s tight with ours, and she’ll back Indy without question. Should have enough peeps to keep eyes out for y’all if needed.”

  “Appreciate it.” Dagan offered his hand to Diaz. “I’ve gotta say I’m impressed. You’re organized and think ahead. You ever want it, I’m sure we’ve got a place for you at SEO.”

  “Nah, man. It’s all on Indy. She, Dare, and Rider crawl up and down my ass with protocols and shit more than I’d admit, saying I have to know that stuff to keep my crew clean, fed, and free. Their shit’s finally sinking in, you know?” He gave Dagan a fist bump. “Keep our girl safe.”

  A few moments later Dagan found himself alone with Devyn. He knelt and gently wrapped her petite frame in the blanket he’d found beside her. She almost came across as angelic when asleep. Alabaster skin creamier than he’d imagined. Sexy-as-fuck waves of golden hair came to rest just above the fullest, most gorgeous tits he’d seen in a long time.

  The T-shirt someone had changed her into molded against her like a second skin. He doubted Devyn would like the clothes on her. But Dagan sure as fuck appreciated them. Blood surged southward, making his dick harden to a painful throb. Long, wrap-around-your-hips legs were accentuated in short, tight shorts.

  Someone had put tennis shoes on her. Hopefully they’d fit well enough to be comfortable if they got into a full-on sprint later. He’d have to add different clothes to the provisions list. No way in hell she’d go unnoticed in this getup.

  Her body tucked into his arms, as if she was meant to be there. And there it was. The bitter, downright cruel reminder of why female Shadows were a bad thing. Psychic genetic coding made Dagan and the other male operatives possessive to the point of lethal. Females like Devyn were their drug of choice.

  Jealousy mottled his thoughts for a moment. He hadn’t noted the possessive stance in Dare earlier that Trent and Kaeden had once had around their women. She was not Dare’s. And the other guy…what’d she call him? Rider. Fuck, she’d gotten really worked up about him.

  The claws of possessiveness dug deeper, gouging a part of Dagan’s soul, his marrow, he hadn’t thought still existed. He drew her closer until soft waves of vanilla and sweetness permeated his nostrils. She sighed against his neck, and those barnacles of desire squeezing his dick tightened.

  A good man would admit he had no business protecting her since all he could think about was thrusting balls deep into her slick heat. But he was far from a good man.

  Shoving the massive metal door open with his shoulder, Dagan winced into the setting sun’s rays. He ran his thumb along her ivory skin. Hopefully she wouldn’t burn in the vehicle. Maybe sunscreen would be a good thing to have on hand. And insect repellant.

  Reality made having a woman like Devyn impossible. A Shadow elite operative had time for one thing—the SEO. Nothing else mattered as long as Conver and his minions were still breathing. Resentment tasted sour on his tongue as he fought the pangs of desire flickering to life within him. For now, she was his to protect. For tonight, she was all that mattered.

  * * * * *

  Devyn blinked awake despite the rhythmic heartbeat echoing in her ears. Damn. She’d flat-lined energy reserves. She hadn’t realized how close she was to being fully depleted. Dare and Rider would kick her ass when they got hold of her—assuming they found out about it.

  Dare.

  Shit. She hauled herself upward and off the bed. Pain coalesced in her brain before plunging down her neck to lodge along her spine. Each breath arrowed pain through her gut.

  At least you’re breathing—something your team may not be doing.

  “Sit.”

  Dagan. Damn.

  “I thought you would’ve ditched me by now.”

  “After this is over, you and I have to chat about your perceptions of me.” He rose from the chair he’d folded his hulking frame into somehow. Her mouth dried when he closed the distance between them until his breath feathered against her forehead. “Then again, maybe we should work on that right now.”

  Wait. What? She shook her head and tried to make sense of what he’d said. Was he hitting on her? No way. Her traitorous pulse quickened, and she scanned his torso before she moved her gaze upward to note his wet hair. She looked around the room.

  A motel.

  A small bathroom in the corner cast soft rays of artificial lighting into the otherwise darkened interior. “Where are we?”

  “Some fleabag motel outside of Normal. Between the provisions Rider had in the go-vehicle and the stuff Tricks and her crew brought, we’ll be good to hole up for a few days if needed.”

  She forced her mind to work despite the raging migraine that threatened to overpower her. Her stomach roiled and pitched its protest. Several hours of deep sleep in a blackened room would sate the worst of the backlash, but rest wasn’t on the agenda.

  “My team.”

  “Diaz texted. Everyone made it out okay. Rider’s still in the wind. Your boy Rider had that ride loaded for a small war.”

  That was Rider. Prepare for the worst, expect even worse. She held out her hand. “Burn phone?”

  Dagan shook his head. “Not until you get some rest. You're tapped out. Rest for a few more hours, then maybe you can talk to your crew.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to rest when one of my team is missing. Give me the phone.”

  Dagan smirked as he took a couple of steps back and reached for a plastic bag. He handed it to her. “Convenience food of the gods. Eat. Rest. Then we’ll talk.”

  She peeked into the bag. Sour cream potato chips. Diet Coke. Packaged tuna sandwich. Fried cherry pie.

  Her gaze narrowed. “Exactly how did you know what I like?”

  “I have my ways.”

  Tossing the bag on the bed behind her, she shoved him back. Or tried to. He chuckled.

  “You read my mind while I was passed out?” That was…that was…Arg. She couldn’t even think about how screwed up that was.

  “Like I said, you and I need to work on your perceptions of me.”

  “Oh, gee, why would I think you’re a disreputable pain in the ass who’s one step above one of Conver’s minions? Could it be because you manipulated my mind? No? Well, maybe it has to do with the fact you dragged me out into the middle of nowhere, away from my team, and then read my mind to find out I prefer cherry pies over apple.”

  He grabbed her wrist before the slap she attempted made contact. “Diaz suggested it, seemed to think it’d put me on your good side.”

  Oh. Well.

  “As for the other stuff, you know why I took control of you earlier today. Were we to switch places, you would’ve done the same thing."

  He returned to the hovering position inches away. His other hand grasped the back of her neck and dragged her forward until their lips almost met. “Ease off the pissed just a little, babe, because I’m hanging on by a thread. I’m having a real hard time remembering you aren’t mine to protect. The more you argue, the hotter I get to prove exactly why I have the right to handle you.”

  Pleasure swirled within her, melding with uncertainty and nervousness. The totality of her sexual experiences could begin and conclude during an average television sitcom. Okay, that was being a bit harsh. Maybe a full hour drama, without the commercials. Not that she or the kids she cared for got to enjoy frivolous shit like television much. A couple of the local business owners had helped fund a small community center a couple of bloc
ks over. Thanks to some anonymous donations to Indigo Order, a few half-functioning televisions were made available. Several battered sofas and tables later, and they had a somewhat normal location for people to hang.

  It was also a covert way to gather the masses for some basic education. That facet of the facility hadn’t gone down well with most of the kids until their street-appointed leader Diaz had sat down, nodded with crossed arms, and said, “Cool. Teach me shit.”

  But none of them mattered right now. All that existed was her and Dagan.

  Silence ticked away. Agonizing seconds blurred one into another until the indecision on Dagan’s handsome face fell away and she tumbled into the fiery passion left in his eyes. She braced when he growled, low and deep.

  She moaned as he crushed her lips to his in a savage kiss. Her psychic senses inhaled the lust, need, anger, and loneliness. No, it wasn’t her weak secondary ability brushing her mind with the tidal wave of emotions—it was him. A gentle sweep of decadent warmth drifted into her mind.

  Dagan.

  She cast the utterance telepathically, not trusting her voice to work even if her tongue wasn’t licking a trail along his lower lip. He tasted of mint, and she wanted more.

  “Fuck.” He severed the kiss and yanked her away. Sawing air into her lungs, she stared at him. How the hell could he even talk right now?

  The ground moved beneath her, and the world narrowed to Dagan. His hands. His mouth. God, she was pathetic. He prowled and paced the small space in front of her like a trapped, feral animal, pausing every couple of treks down the worn carpet to stare at her as though she’d disappear at any moment.

  Truth told, she’d gladly melt into the flooring or poof onto the roof if she could. Her pulse was still knocking around like a drunken loon. Her heart thundered in her chest like a battering ram. Exhaustion made thinking difficult, but things had to get sorted.

  “I need to talk to Dare.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t stop me from talking to him. I need to speak with him.”

  “You don’t need him when the taste of you is still on my mouth.”