Ivory (The Manhattan Ten Series Book 1) Read online

  “I killed a man. I was expecting more than a hassle.” Heroes or not, it bordered criminal that I’d walked away.

  “Good answer.” He gestured for me to sit. “Would you send us in some water, Angel? Our Ivory’s thirsty.”

  I took the chair, but back muscles tensed to iron. Our Ivory? I might’ve been thirsty, but he could’ve given Angel the request silently. This was a demonstration. Or he was testing me.

  “A little, but not for the reasons you think.” He leaned back in his chair. “You passed the test on the plane. I know you’re hesitant, but you’d make a great addition to our team.”

  I didn’t much like him responding to my internal dialogue, but at least he’d know how serious I was. “I like a quiet life. I’m not the fighter I used to be.”

  “Why didn’t you wear your shoes?”

  My toes curled against the carpet. If this was non-invasive, I wanted to see what was. I could practically feel him tearing through the layers of my past. All the endless snows and hunts, and the pressure to live up to Mother’s expectations. The expedition ship I’d spotted, and the near-death beating I’d received after asking where it came from. Since I escaped, I’d been battling to control my powers and play human.

  Tank had to know I’d hate anything that put me in jeopardy of losing that. I couldn’t return to such a cold, narrow world, where curiosity was punished and the universe ended at the edge of the horizon.

  A door-knock saved me from any more dark thoughts.

  “Morning, Boss.” Jag slunk into the room with a ready smile, his skin glowing like he’d hibernated. I wanted to touch and see if it was as smooth as it looked. My fingertips tingled.

  Tank’s brows twitched.

  I had to check myself.

  Jag was a temptation I didn’t need. One that would break everything I’d built. And one I didn’t want Tank reading from my mind.

  Maybe Jag sensed the tension in the air. His grin broadened and he set a glass of water in front of me before throwing a leg over the second chair. “So did he convince you to join forces yet?”

  “No.” Nor would he. The sooner I escaped these supers, the sooner I could regain some normalcy. I left the water where it was. I didn’t dare extend a hand Jag’s way, lest I feel the heat of his body.

  Tank’s brows lifted. “Normalcy isn’t in the cards. The press has you, and new supers always captivate them for a minimum of a few weeks. Since you’re already tied to us, think months.”

  He must’ve heard my internal groan.

  “We take full responsibility. Or Jag does. You’re going to have to stay with us if you want to avoid a frenzy. In the meantime, we’d like you to do a trial run and help patch up the mission.”

  “If I don’t want to?”

  “You’re welcome to stay or go. We won’t keep you against your will.”

  “Did you tell her about the case?” Jag’s amusement fell away.

  “What case?” I’d been puzzled why they’d follow such a man. Surely there were better ways for supers to track a regular human.

  “It’s an unusual situation. Go ahead, Jag.”

  “We’ve got a killer or killers targeting supers.” Jag’s claws flashed out as he gripped his armrests. “There’ve been four murders so far. Two in LA and two in Houston. All four victims were supers, but we can’t figure the connection between them. The guy we were following was part of one of the nastier anti-super groups. He wasn’t behind the deaths, but we suspected he was meeting with whoever was.”

  “And they sent you to be incognito?”

  Jag was anything but inconspicuous.

  “He hadn’t seen me yet.” Jag flashed the white smile that gleamed so brilliant against his skin. I supposed a man-jaguar could hide if anyone could.

  “But how were they killed?” It seemed like a case for local law enforcement. Muggings, perhaps.

  “We thought as much until the third killing,” Tank responded to my thought again. “We still would, but three of the four were certified badasses. No normal human could’ve taken them down.”

  “They all died of multiple stab wounds, but we’ve never seen a weapon. It’s spooky.” Jag leaned on his chair arm. “Don’t you want to help investigate?”

  His description reminded me of something, but I shooed it away. It was unfortunate for the supers being targeted, but I wanted nothing to do with this. They could resolve it without me.

  “That’s your choice. But we do have a small blip to deal with because of your involvement.” Tank kept his voice casual, but the hairs on the back of my neck rose. It screamed contrived.

  “What blip?”

  “The authorities think you’re working with us. As long as you are, we can keep you out of their hands. If you’re not...”

  So much for not keeping me against my will. The frost bunched in my palms. “What do you expect me to do?”

  “A simple press event—” Tank began.

  “You’re not really selling it, Boss. It’s a party. Meet the rest of the team, wave to the press. Free drinks. Hors d’oeuvres.”

  I wasn’t sure which part of it made me more furious. I settled with the obvious. “You’re going to have a party while you have a murderer running free?”

  “A press event,” Tank said.

  “And I’m to lie and say I’m joining your crime-fighting squad?”

  “For your own protection, yes.”

  Some party.

  Before my huntress jumped the desk and speared him, I stood. Tank was right that I couldn’t go back to my regular life, but he didn’t have to spin me around under the guise of keeping me protected. I would’ve told him what I thought, but he already knew. “I’ll go, but I’m not staying.”

  Jag grinned, Tank nodded, and icicle-finger- tipped, I stormed from the room.

  No matter what, I wouldn’t be caged.

  JAG

  “Amazing energy.” I stretched out in my chair after Valdís left in a cloud of frigid, furious mist. The cashmere hugged her Amazonian curves, and those bare toes of hers were dead sexy.

  When she was that angry, her killer aura took over the room. She kept it controlled but she was a claw’s breadth from snapping, and I wanted to see what would happen when she did.

  “You can’t imagine.” Tank finally relaxed. “That’s one powerful, deeply disturbed woman.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Felt, mostly. She’s so cold inside she burns.”

  I straightened in my chair. “Are you interested?”

  “No.” Tank shook his head. “You shouldn’t be either, but it’s late for that.” With that mind-blowing body and killer personality, Ivory was worth a crush. And wasn’t the name perfect for her?

  “A crush? Is that what it is?” Tank tilted his head.

  Hate it when you soul-search, Boss.

  “Sorry. But be honest. You shouldn’t get involved with her, especially if she’s going to work with us. She has deep family issues.”

  That I could relate to. I’d admit I was paying more attention to her than I had to any other woman I could remember, but it was rare to find such a fine, fierce warrior woman.

  Of course I appreciated her. That was all.

  “If you say so.” Tank shook his head. “Just don’t let her stab—shit.”

  “What?” I tensed.

  Tank palmed his face. “I’ve got terrorists and murder plots to wrangle. You brought her here, you deal with it. Hallway.”

  More curious than worried, I followed the sounds of chaos.

  Angel pinched Cyclone’s arm, and he was trying to struggle away, though not hard enough he’d hurt her. His hand was a solid cube of ice. “I offered a friendly handshake—”

  “You were being a perv, Cyc.” Angel pushed him toward the elevator. “Go to medical and get melted.”

  “But she—”

  “Go.” Angel was so sweet she could’ve been a cupcake, but you didn’t screw with her. She ran everything, and she would make your lif
e hell if you got on her bad side.

  Cyclone sulked into the elevator.

  “What did he do?”

  “Lame pick-up line.” Angel rolled her eyes. “I think she would have let it slide, but then he started showing off his powers. I would’ve done the same under the circumstances.”

  “Where’d she go?”

  “To her room. I’d go check, but we’re slammed today...what?”

  “I suppose I could go make sure she wasn’t bothered.” Cyc wouldn’t touch her again, but I wanted to make sure she didn’t feel too betrayed by the press party. It was a necessary evil. And I happened to have glimpsed her floor number on Angel’s note pad.

  “Just don’t upset her anymore. I need to get one woman on this squad of beast men.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m recruiting. Heavily.” I shot her a wink.

  “Dios mío.” She walked away, wiping her hands of me, though she’d have something to say if I screwed this up.

  I was grasping for reasons to see Ivory, considering how pissed she was, but that cold fire of hers was too compelling. I wanted to touch it and see if it really did burn.

  Maybe she’d snap, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the full-on warrior woman again. Ivory was way too uptight.

  A peace offering might ease my way. I headed for the kitchen.

  Four

  IVORY

  All of them were crazy.

  Ice crusted my fingertips. If Angel hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve frozen that drittsekk Cyclone into a full cube.

  I wanted to run far away, but instead I escaped to the roof.

  Two things kept me from disappearing and I wasn’t sure which was the stronger bond. I’d told Tank I’d attend his pony show and I never broke my word.

  This time, I might’ve if not for the news vans.

  Peering over the building’s ledge made my stomach churn, but not because I feared the height. Half a dozen reporters with cameramen waited outside the building. More casual-looking paparazzi milled around the lines of fans with posters and M-10 T-shirts.

  Some of them were likely trying to glimpse me, but others seemed like they were permanently camped. As if the M-10 were always in the news.

  If I walked out, they’d follow. And where would I go? The media had me in their sights, and who was to say there wasn’t a similar fleet of news vans waiting on my stoop?

  Sacrificing my present was one thing. The media couldn’t dig into the deepest shadows of my past, but with my picture plastered everywhere, my past could find its way to me.

  My family had never believed in television or electricity, and wandering the northern wastes didn’t put them near many towns, but there was always a chance...

  Channeling my anger and fear, I let the emotions pool in my hands. I drew out the ice spear in one moment, as fast, as aggressive as I ever had on the hunt.

  With a soul-deep scream, using every muscle I had, I hurled the spear at a wall.

  A spectacular crash sounded as the ice dusted against concrete. The shards’ vibrations tickled my toes.

  I felt slightly better, but every use of my power was a delicate dance. Draining a little took the edge off but tempted me to use more.

  Instead of giving in, I climbed on top of the waist-high safety barrier and perched, looking over the city as I searched for inner balance. Up so high, the sounds faded. When I closed my eyes, the only noise was the wind whipping between skyscrapers. The air tasted of gasoline and donut shops and of the millions of people that swarmed the city.

  I wouldn’t mind being in New York if I could take to the streets and experience it, but when I did open my eyes, the crowds below were pointing and the cameras trained my way.

  I fled before they could summon a news copter.

  Inside was stuffy in comparison, but I felt slightly more in control by the time I punched the button for the sixteenth floor.

  Then door pinged open and my calm shattered.

  Jag sprawled on the living room sofa with the remote. Food smells wafted from the kitchen, and the TV blared its recently live coverage of me on the edge of the building.

  “Find your center?” Jag rolled onto his belly, fixing me with a stare.

  “I thought my privacy would be respected.” My hard-earned peace was already fraying. I shouldn’t have left my room, but I’d have gone crazy if I was trapped inside.

  “It is.” He rolled all the way up, flexing his muscles like a cat. “I brought you lunch as an apology for Cyclone.”

  “I don’t accept secondhand apologies.” Cyclone owed me one himself.

  “Then I’m sorry for getting you tangled in this.” He clicked the TV off. “Want to have lunch with me?”

  It was harder to throw him out when he was playing polite, and whatever he’d popped in the oven smelled delicious. “Very well.”

  “You won’t be disappointed.”

  As he moved around the kitchen, I perched on one of the barstools. Who would have guessed Jag could cook? Watching him move was another type of buffet. His deadly grace captivated my gaze.

  My tribesmen could be physically imposing, but Jag was a mountain of honed and toned muscle. He was like no man I’d ever seen.

  Donning a pair of oven mitts that barely squeezed over his hands, Jag removed a tray of french fries from the oven. “Rosemary.” He shook them into the waiting bowl. “And for any other woman, I’d work my grill mojo, but for you...” He uncovered a tray I hadn’t seen. “Steak tartare.”

  A raw egg yolk garnished each circle of chopped pink beef. My mouth watered. There were so few socially acceptable ways to eat uncooked meat.

  Jag was taking a risk serving such a thing to someone he didn’t know.

  But maybe he already knew me better than I wanted.

  “Pegged you for a carnivore.” His cat-eyes glowed yellow. “Plus some grease for the beast.” He popped a fry into his mouth.

  I might’ve feigned distaste, but the meal looked too delicious. Instead, I took the offered plate. “Thank you.”

  Jag took the next barstool and we both dug in. Fresh herbs seasoned the meat and I closed my eyes to savor the taste, but Jag didn’t mean to let me enjoy myself in silence.

  “What’s with all the self-denial? You need to let loose.”

  “Excuse me?” He didn’t know me that well.

  He swirled a fry in ketchup and fixed me with a warm smile. The expression was much too intimate. “Unwind. You should let the badass warrior woman out more often. She’s hot.”

  “I like control.” Though at the moment, it was taking all I had not to bend my fork in half. “Letting loose is the last thing I need to do. Not that it’s your concern.”

  “Maybe I want it to be.” Jag stretched out, giving me the full view of his long frame. Half invitation and half challenge, his heated look hit all my buttons.

  Including the danger button.

  The frigid haze that signaled my descent into warrior mode hovered at the edge of my vision.

  He was too much. “You obviously have no problem letting your beast out.”

  “I am the beast.” He flashed his claws, not to threaten, but to display. “We’re one and the same. Isn’t that how it is for you, ice princess? You can’t suppress that part of yourself forever.”

  “That’s not how it works.” He was a shifter, part animal to begin with. I was from an elemental tribe. Maybe I was no less wild, but outside of the tundra, I could play human.

  “If you say so.” Jag took another bite of the tartare, flashing pointed canines. “Need a hairdryer?”

  “What?”

  “To thaw out.”

  I didn’t even need to look. The ice had spilled out of my palms. It gave me icicle fingernails and frosted the countertop in white.

  So much for control.

  I drew the cold inward until the counter was clean and none of the evidence of my latest slip-up remained. “You can see yourself out.”

  I left the dishes and once again retreated from Jag, this
time to the relative safety of my borrowed bedroom. He was under my skin, and I didn’t trust myself with all of his needling.

  What did he want from me?

  The warrior in me bubbled much too close to the surface. Jag would be in for a spear to the belly if he didn’t pull back. Then he’d see why “letting loose” wasn’t a good idea.

  I folded my legs, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Meditation. My center was somewhere and I’d find it yet. Picturing the vast white Arctic, I sought calm.

  Every time I came close, that pointed, panther-esque smile intruded on my inner ice field. His heated predator’s gaze dared me.

  To do what, I wasn’t sure.

  The moment I gave in to any of the huntress’s urges was the moment I had to crawl home to my execution. I’d be a danger to every human around me, and assuming I could still remember that was bad, I could either kill myself or let my mother do the job.

  I’d kept the huntress clamped down for so many years, but Jag was too much temptation on too many levels.

  I could lose myself to a man like that.

  Jag was gone and the kitchen was empty the next time I dared peek outside. Much longer in the heroes’ tower and I’d be timid as a vole.

  An assortment of gowns spread over the sofa back. Most were sleek and shiny in pale colors cut for a woman of my height.

  Angel again.

  I’d almost forgotten about the “party.” I wished I could forget again.

  I chose a silvery Diane von Furstenberg from the pile. Its neckline dipped low, but the long lines would hide my bare feet. At least, I had every intention of going barefoot until I discovered the shoeboxes on the coffee table.

  Manolo Blahnik. Chanel. Louboutin.

  It was a buffet of brands, and a miracle.

  Women’s size twelve?

  They had to be custom, which made them even more extravagantly expensive. The M-10 could obviously afford it, but it sparked my unease. Maybe they thought throwing luxury frills my way would make me indebted.

  With Tank, I expected mind games. But... Unless I was shopping for snowshoes, I’d never seen such a fitting assortment. It would be madness to pass up.