Deadly Is the Kiss (10 page)

Despite the late hour, the train car was brimming with a group of British schoolkids on a foreign studies field trip, the lack of privacy no doubt a good thing, since it made any fooling around impossible. Juliana sat huddled inside Ashe’s leather jacket, her eyes closed, trying her best to ignore him as he sat beside her, his head tilted back on the headrest, his eyes closed. But it wasn’t easy. She’d been caught up in the powerful, sensual web he’d spun back in London, and now she couldn’t shake herself free. Every move he made seemed laden with sensual overtones, his scent rich and deep and musky, making her mouth water every time she drew in a breath.

Thanks to the bagged human blood he’d offered her before they’d left his hotel room, the hunger that had been gnawing at her stomach had eased, so she didn’t need to worry about feeding. The blood would also enable her to walk in the sunlight for a few days, thanks to a Deschanel vampire’s ability to assume certain traits of those species they drank from.

So with those concerns taken care of, she was left to worry about other things, her family’s safety residing at the top of the long, depressing list. And because of the spells that made the use of technology impossible in the Wasteland, she couldn’t even borrow Ashe’s cell phone to call and check on them.

For her family’s sake, she would endure the emotional strain being around Ashe put her through, knowing she owed them that and so much more. More than she could ever repay…but she was willing to die trying.

And if she was honest with herself, she knew there was a damn good chance it would come to that.

Though she trusted Ashe to do everything he could to keep her safe—despite the tension between them, he was obviously one of those rare breed of men who would always protect those who needed it—she didn’t have much faith that she’d survive the coming days. It made her ache for the life she’d never been given a chance to live. The one with a loving husband and children, a family to call her own. But she could accept her fate, as long as she managed to help her family escape the Wasteland, righting the wrongs that had been done to them. And as long as Ashe was able to walk away from this ordeal unscathed, which was why she would take her darker secrets to the grave with her, where they belonged.

A little more than two hours after leaving London, they arrived in Paris. Even in the middle of the night, the magnificent city was ablaze with lights. It had always been one of Juliana’s favorite places in the world, and she’d spent most of her summers there while growing up. She’d even planned to move into a flat near the Musée d’Orsay after she’d finished her studies—but then she’d met Raphe Delacourt, and all her plans had changed. A few short months later, she’d been banished to the Wasteland, believing she’d never see Paris again.

Though she was nervous at the thought of using the Pinero Dominguez as their hideout, she was privately thrilled that Ashe had brought her to this particular city.

They grabbed one of the private taxis loitering at the curb near the front of the station, sliding into the backseat together. It all felt strangely intimate, almost as if they were simply two starry-eyed lovers arriving for a romantic weekend in the City of Lights, when the truth couldn’t have been further from the truth. Ashe seemed determined to pretend she wasn’t even there, only speaking to her when necessary, his dark gaze focused out his window, a muscle pulsing every now and then in the rigid set of his jaw. So she spent the time staring lovingly at the city as it passed by her window…and stealing greedy glances at him from the corner of her eye, a small smile touching her lips when she noticed how long and thick his eyelashes were. If he was anything like her brother, he’d probably hated them when he was younger, thinking they were too feminine-looking. But they were perfect for him now, adding another touch of devastating sexuality to a face that was all perfect, masculine angles. A rugged, utterly male face that was too gorgeous for its own good, making her feel like a homely little waif as she sat beside him.

It took nearly twenty minutes to reach the antiquated streets of Saint-Germain, one of the oldest districts in Paris, and Ashe instructed the driver to leave them in the middle of a long street of quaint little shops and cafés. Draping her pack over her shoulder, Juliana looked up and down the moonlit street. “This is where we’re going?” she asked doubtfully, the appealing neighborhood so far from what she’d imagined for the Pinero Dominguez she wanted to laugh at herself.

“Not quite,” Ashe drawled with a lopsided smile. “We still have a little ways to go.”

They headed down the cobbled sidewalk, turning into a narrow walkway situated between a boutique and a bookstore. At the far end of the walkway there was an ivy-covered gate, and behind that, a simple black door, the modern keypad on the lock strangely at odds with the historic surroundings. Ashe keyed a number into the pad, and a second later there was a metallic click, like a lock disengaging. He opened the door, telling her to follow behind him, then started down what appeared to be a long, crumbling flight of stone stairs. Chewing nervously on her lower lip, Juliana closed the door behind her, and made her way down.

At the bottom, a long, dimly lit tunnel stretched out before them, raucous laughter and music spilling from several open doorways, the faded signs hanging above them impossible to read.

“This is more what I had in mind,” she whispered, wishing she could reach out and take his hand, her nerves squirming like a handful of eels in her belly.

“Just stay close to me,” he murmured, pulling his pack higher on his shoulder. “We’ve got a ways to walk.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” she muttered a few minutes later, the ceiling so low in several places that Ashe had to hunch down to keep from hitting his head on the rough stones. They walked for what must have been about fifteen minutes, going deeper into the noisy underground tunnel, until Ashe finally stopped in front of what appeared to be some sort of biker bar or nightclub.

Juliana stared at the blacked-out windows lining the bar’s front, the neon sign hanging above the closed door flickering too rapidly for her to read what it said. All she could make out was the shape of a topless blonde with fangs and a tail straddling what appeared to be some sort of motorcycle. “Um, wow.”

Ashe pushed his hands into his pockets. “I know it’s not much to look at,” he said, “but a friend of mine owns it.” His tone was wry, as if he knew just how horrified she was by the thought of going inside, half-expecting there to be strippers dancing on the tables. “I need his help to start our search,” he went on, “and he’ll be willing to give us a room for the night. Plus, the security is better than anything else we’ll find.”

“Are you sure Raphe won’t think to send assassins here?” She scrunched her nose as she looked up at him. “I mean, this is a criminal underground network, and he’s one of the biggest vampire criminals in existence.”

His chest shook with a grim laugh. “Trust me, Delacourt has no connection to the P.D. At least, not to any of the places we’ll be staying.”

“How do you know?”

He popped his jaw, the look of fury suddenly glittering in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. “Because these people are friends of mine. Which means they despise the Delacourts as much as—” he broke off and ran his tongue over his teeth “—as much as most of the Förmyndares
do.”

She knew he’d been about to say as much as
he
did, but had stopped. For some reason, he didn’t want her to know what his connection was to Raphe Delacourt, or even that he had one. But she had no doubt there was something between them. At this point, she was starting to think Ashe might hate the crime lord
almost
as much as she did.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” she murmured, arching one of her brows. “But isn’t it a little strange…I mean a Förmyndare being friends with known criminals?”

Though his eyes still glinted with that hot, visceral glow, his expression softened, a cocky smile twitching on his lips. “I wouldn’t call my friends criminals, per se. Gideon and I think of them more as law manipulators.”

She gave a quiet snort.

“Seriously,” he said with an easy shrug, “I’m not friendly with murderers or rapists or terrorists. These are good people. They just aren’t happy with the current status quo, and they have their own ideas about how to bring about change.”

“I’m surprised at you, Granger.” Her tone was teasing. “From the sound of it, you’re cronies with a bunch of revolutionaries!”

“Revolutionaries, huh?” His smile flashed as he reached for the door. “I’ll have to pass that on to Knox. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Who’s Knox?” she asked, following him inside the smoky interior, her eyes burning from the heavy veil of cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

“Knox is the guy who owns this place.”

Only a few tables near the front were still occupied at this hour, the rest of the customers having already headed home. Ashe said something to the flirty blonde counting the money in the cash register, and a moment later a tall, auburn-haired man stalked through the doorway at the far end of the bar, a scowl twisting his sensual mouth as he looked toward Ashe. He was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, his arms covered in intricate tattoos, another one climbing up the right side of his throat. Despite being big and mean and somewhat scary-looking, the male was undeniably attractive, an unmistakable air of wicked sexuality wrapping around his tall, muscular body as he paced toward them.

Juliana kept her voice low, knowing from the man’s scent that he was some sort of shape-shifter, which meant his hearing would be exceptional. “Is it just me, or does he not look too happy to see you?”

“Ignore the scowl. It’s his usual expression. Only time I’ve ever seen him smile is when he’s got two women on him and he’s in the middle of co—” He suddenly broke off, coughing into his fist, but she could see the smile he was trying to hide.

“Lovely,” she drawled, lifting her brows. “You’ve brought me to one of your whoring buddies.”

Instead of gloating, which she’d expected, Ashe slid her a considering gaze, his dark head cocked just a little to the side as he stared down at her. Quietly, he said, “You really don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you?”

Looking away, she exhaled an unsteady breath. “Let’s just say I learned early on not to trust a beautiful face.”

“Hmm,” he said in a low tone. “You’re not the only one who’s learned that lesson.”

Before she could ask him to elaborate on that telling statement, the tattooed shifter reached them. He kept the ferocious-looking scowl in place until he stood nearly nose to nose with Ashe. Then a huge grin split his face and he threw a long arm around Ashe’s shoulders, whacking him on the back so hard it would have flattened a lesser man.

“It’s been too long, you son of a bitch!” the shifter growled with genuine affection, giving Ashe another spine-cracking whack before pulling back and crossing his massive arms over his chest, his biceps straining the sleeves of his T-shirt in the same way she’d seen Ashe’s do. She thought she’d caught a bit of an Irish accent in his craggy voice, but couldn’t be sure.

“I wish this was just a friendly visit,” Ashe said, “but I’ve got a problem I’m hoping you can help with.”

The shifter slid an interested look toward Juliana, a wicked smile spreading over his handsome face. “No problem, boyo. I’ll be happy to help out with the little filly any way I can.”

Little filly?

Juliana blinked, while Ashe gave a husky laugh. “She’s not the problem, you ass. And you’re sure as hell not getting your sleazy hands on her.”

“Damn,” the giant drawled, giving her a playful wink before shifting his curious gaze back to Ashe, waiting for him to explain.

Placing his hand on her lower back in a strangely possessive gesture, Ashe first made the introductions, his voice dry. “Knox, this is Juliana, and you can stop leering at her anytime now. Juliana, this is Knox, criminal mastermind and unparalleled thief.” At her wary expression, he added, “Don’t worry. If anything, he’s more of a modern-day Robin Hood, only without the tights. And the charm, for that matter.”