Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

Empty clip. Next clip. Empty. Shit. I grabbed the USP, ejected the mag. A strip of brass peeked out. Adrenaline surged. I chambered a round, pivoted, elbows locked, and lined up the sights.

Roark leaned over his sword, chest heaving. And the Drone….

“Where is he?” He couldn’t be far. I ran through the door and crashed into Michio.

His arms enfolded me, his staff nudging my back. “He’s gone.”

“His wings. Did you see—”

“Yes.” He tucked my head under his arm. “He flew away.”

“I didn’t dream that? He can fly?” My voice pitched on the last word.

His other arm hooked around my waist, pulled me closer. “Yes,” rattled from his chest, against my face.

I jerked from his hold, heart racing, and skin crawling. Slivers of wood jabbed my feet as I darted back to the cabinet. “We’re surrounded by water. No messenger bugs. How did he find us?” If he could find me on a boat in the Ligurian Sea, he could find me anywhere.

The Drone’s right-hand man, member of the Shard, doctor with a hypothesis for everything, stared at me, eyes blank.

Not good. “Obviously, he learned our route. But how—” No, no, no. The hungry guards, the dungeon, meat hooks, torture. My hand went to my breast, to the turquoise stone there. “Oh God…Jesse.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Evie.” Michio’s knuckles blanched around his staff. Steel spikes protruded from the end. No blood.

The tip of Roark’s sword dug into the teak floor, its sharp edge clean as well.

“How did the Drone get past you?” So quickly and uninjured?

“He flashed.” Roark pointed the sword at the door. “He moves faster than ye doing that blurry thing when you’re lamping bugs.”

Knew that after two months on the painful side of his flashing fist. “Tallis and Cliff?”

“They saw him fly off starboard.” Michio hauled on jeans and a shirt, the blades gone from the staff in his hand.

“And they didn’t get a shot off? Harpoon his ass with their fishing gun? Nothing?”

Brows collided over black eyes. “It’s dark.”

“He flew all the way here, just to be chased away? He’s fucking with us.” I strapped on my arm sheaths and four knives. Jesse must have collected my spares from the Humvee. “How close is Genoa?” Goddammit, Jesse better be there. In one piece.

“On the horizon.” Michio kissed my bare shoulder and draped a tee over it. “I’m going up.” The door snicked behind him.

Roark leaned against the cabinet beside me. I scoured the racks for mags, filled the ones I found with ammo, unable to ignore the weight of his gaze. “What?”

“Ye were just gonna hurl along up there after the Drone in the nip, were ye?” His eyes made a perusal over my nude skin, stopping on the only thing I wore. Michio’s boxers, rolled at the waistband, determined to give up their fight against gravity.

I tugged them up and slammed my pistol in the holster. “Survival before modesty.”

His eyes darted to the shirt flung over my shoulder. “Think your doctor disagrees.”

A shaky sigh escaped. “Add it to our list of disagreements.”

His slouch against the cabinet grew taller. “That so?”

We didn’t have time for melodrama, but my fragile relationships wouldn’t work without communication and honesty. I turned toward him and traced fingers around his curling ones, intertwining our hands. “He knows about our negotiation. We talked after you went up on deck last night.” Talking wasn’t the only thing we did.

The tic in his cheek told me he caught the flush in mine. I straightened the strap on my holster, stalling. “We’ll work it out. Nothing to worry about.”

“Tell me wha’ I’m not worrying about, then.” His expression, so open and full of affection, made it easy to bare all, give him all.

“Okay.” I raised our laced hands, pressed a kiss to his scarred knuckles. “It’s the touching.”

His eyes darkened, locked on my mouth. “What about it?”

“The intimacy you and I share…he’s wants to draw lines at—”

He tossed his hands in the air. “Then throw us a bloody Sharpie, why den’ he? We’ll just draw ‘Do Not Enter’ zones on your body. Is that wha’ he wants?”

“Stop making him out like a barbarian. It’s not any different than the lines you and I drew. And don’t forget, he just left us alone down here, with me wearing only underwear.” I stretched out my arms, baring the reminder.

Cheeks splotched, he dropped his head and asked the floor, “Wha’ do ye want?”

I stepped into him and raised his whiskered chin with a cupped hand. The worry bracketing his gorgeous eyes was my undoing. “I want you, you fickle, fucked up, beautiful man.”

His lashes dropped through a ragged inhale and snapped back up. “Ye want the doctor.”

My selfish heart jumped to my throat, choked my response. “Him, too.” When he tried to look away, I hardened my grip, waited for those eyes to focus on mine. “And if he loves me like he says he does, he’ll understand that nothing is worth holding on to like the love we share in touch. I won’t let anyone take that from us, okay?”