Sins of the Flesh

She turned to face him and cocked a brow. Caution made him keep his eyes on her, but his gaze dipped to her breasts as he hit speed dial. He could see the outline of her taut nipples. He stared for a second then forced himself to look away.

Damn, there was something about her that had him thinking with the wrong head. But that wasn’t the worst of it. There was something about her that made him curious. He wanted to take her apart like a clock, figure out her inner workings. Funny…his curiosity about what made things tick didn’t usually extend to women.

“I need cleanup,” he said when Kai Warin, Sutekh’s new second-in-command, answered. Kai had been fast-tracked up the ranks when Gahiji, Sutekh’s former second-in-command, had suffered an unfortunate incident that left his head separated from his body. The unfortunate part being that Mal hadn’t been the one to do the separating.

Mal and his brothers had been surprised when they heard the news of Kai’s promotion. He wasn’t a choice they might have expected Sutekh to make; he wasn’t at all like Gahiji. But then, given Gahiji’s betrayal, maybe that was the point.

Now, he gave Kai the address of Kuznetsov’s building and a brief rundown of events.

“I sent Alastor to get a package,” he said with a glance at Calliope, unwilling to offer more than that for her to overhear. “But I need you to deal with the concierge and any witnesses, direct or indirect—”

Calliope interrupted him. “Will he hurt them?”

“What? Hold on, Kai… Hurt them? No. It’s a benign process that simply makes them forget the significance of having seen us. They’ll remember it as a dream, or something they imagined. It’s like—” he spread his hands “—a superstrong form of hypnosis.”

She gave a short nod, then said, “There was a witness in the elevator. An older woman. Tiny. White haired. She came from Kuznetsov’s floor.”

Mal relayed the information then continued. “Wipe the security tapes. At this point, you might even need to deal with the cops. It would be best if my companion and I were forgotten.”

He left out any detailed description of his companion, or any mention of the fact that she’d skewered him like a kabob. That information was for his private rumination. And his personal payback. Only, the sort of skewering he meant to do in return had a whole different definition.

Ending the call, he looked up to find Calliope watching him, her expression far too serene for his comfort. He didn’t trust her composure. She ought to be pissed that he’d crashed her party, because he was absolutely positive she’d wanted Kuznetsov to herself. Just as he did. Yet she was going along with him. For now. He had no doubt it was a temporary acquiescence.

“Which way?” she asked. And when he didn’t answer, she clarified, “To your car. I don’t know where you’re parked.”

Tight-lipped, she smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.

He smiled back, certain he looked every bit as predatory as she did.

She was planning something, and if he wasn’t on his toes, whatever plot she hatched just might succeed. He’d already underestimated her more than once this evening. He wouldn’t do it again.

“All the way to the end of this alley, then take a right at the corner, then a right at the lights. I’m parked in the public lot on the north side of the street.”

She waited as he put away his phone and shifted the rug on his shoulder.

“Ready, now?” she asked.

Again, he had the sensation that she was far too amiable. Which sent his alarm bells clanging.

He tipped his head to the side. “You’re in a pleasant mood.”

“I am always in a pleasant mood.”

“See—” he wagged his index finger “—that’s the thing. I think your mood’s pleasant on the surface, but scratch a little deeper…? I think I might find a bit of venom.”

“You would not need to scratch very deep. And you would find far more than a bit.” Her face was serene, her posture relaxed. She tapped her palm against the rug. “Let’s go. He won’t stay asleep indefinitely. And, for the moment, I’d rather deal with him unconscious than awake.”

Without waiting for a reply, she set off. The rug was maybe eight feet long, which put Mal in a perfect position to follow. And admire. Damn. The view from back here was perfection.

They took a right at the corner, then another. His chest still ached where she’d skewered him. His forearm still stung. He focused on both, letting the pain ground him. It reminded him that however luscious she looked, Calliope Kane was his enemy.

A dangerous, adept enemy who would try to slice him to shreds if he gave her half a chance.

He had no liking for pain, but the adrenaline high he got from sparring with her was almost worth it.

She stopped dead when they hit the parking lot. There was a rusty blue van parked in the far corner and a white convertible Boxster Spyder under the lamppost. The lot was otherwise empty.

“Tell me the van is yours.”