That is not very nice. There was that laughter again, the one that sent flames dancing over her skin and started a fire in the middle of her stomach. She glanced around to make certain no one was watching her too closely as a faint blush crept up into her face.
I can’t believe these people are falling all over you. It’s disgusting, she told him silently. It was probably his voice. Or his eyes. Or maybe his looks that drew them. And then there was his perfect mouth.
He leaned down to place that perfect mouth against her ear, deliberately, in front of all the cameras, his hand cupping the nape of her neck possessively. “It is all the money, honey. No other reason, simply money. Only you see me as sexy and handsome.”
“I never said sexy. And I know I didn’t say handsome,” she hissed in return. She wasn’t adding to his oversized ego by pointing out all the women who were talking about him. He had to have heard them. She could hear them. She ducked her head. Lucian really didn’t seem to be aware of his looks as anything special. He wore his attractiveness the way he wore his air of confidence, of authority, as if it were merely a part of him and always had been.
A huge white limousine was parked in front of the hospital. A chauffeur stood at the door waiting. Jaxon closed her eyes. This was so absurd, such nonsense. She did not belong in a limousine. Whatever kind of life Lucian had, Jaxon could not possibly fit in.
Knowledge hit her without warning as she was reluctantly walking beneath Lucian’s shoulder toward the chauffeur. The feeling came out of nowhere. Dark. Ugly. Intense. It was dark now, the light leeched from the sky to be replaced by night. Clouds covered the moon, and a slight drizzle was misting the streets. There was laughter all around, talk, hundreds of voices, yet all at once she was alone again in the middle of a war zone.
Automatically she darted out from beneath Lucian’s arm, shoving his large frame away from her to put more distance between them. She already had her gun drawn, and her eyes were tracking, moving, looking for a target. It was there. It was close. This was the nightmare of every cop. A large crowd and an assassin.
* * *
Chapter Four
Where was Barry? Was he the target? Jaxon didn’t dare stop looking for the source of the alarm, not even long enough to assure herself Barry had remained inside the hospital and out of harm’s way. Her sharp gaze checked the surrounding rooftops, moved restlessly over the crowd itself. She was very still inside. This was what she knew. This was her way of life.
Lucian had not moved from her side despite her attempt to put him in the clear. He caught the warning signal from her and knew the threat was a human one, not from the undead. He would have felt the presence of the undead far before she would. He swore softly to himself in the ancient language. He should have been scanning the crowds instead of enjoying her reaction to him. It was the first mistake he could ever recall making in his lifetime, and he wasn’t very happy with himself. One muscular arm simply swept her behind him where she would be completely protected. His larger frame easily shielded her smaller one, forcing her toward the limousine with its bulletproof, tinted glass.
She struggled, trying to warn him of danger, but he was too preoccupied to take much notice. His mind was probing the crowd for signs of hostility. Her alarm system was working perfectly. Three individuals were attempting to position themselves to catch her in their crossfire. Their instructions were to make certain she was dead this time. Their boss had ordered them to finish the job or to start running. Jaxon Montgomery had made far too big a dent in their boss’s business to be tolerated any longer. Barry Radcliff was their secondary target. Lucian read their intent quite easily.
He focused his attack the way he always did, calmly and without rage or anger. First he extracted the information he needed to ensure he could stop any further attempts on Jaxon’s life. With that done, he carefully orchestrated the scenario differently than what the assassins’ boss had in mind. The three men found themselves drawing their weapons right in plain sight. Screams came from all around them. None of them had a clear sight of their primary target, yet their guns seemed to take on lives of their own, turning toward each other. One man tried to open his hand and drop his weapon, but his hand remained locked around it, his finger slowly tightening so that he felt his gun discharge. The sound of the guns firing simultaneously was loud in the night. Chaos broke out, pandemonium, people racing for cover in all directions.