Page 30 of Bared

And there was a thought he did not need. His cock was already seething at him for contemplating the woman’s gorgeousness from the neck up. No way could he go there, considering what the rest of her succulent curves were like, though her tight T-shirt and pants weren’t helping that particular war effort.

An apt comparison. His honor and his libido were Caesar and Mark Antony, ready to burn each other alive. On the outside, he kept up a neutral façade. He had no idea how, but it stayed in place even as the beautiful little warrior closed in on him with a half-hitched grin.

“On the other hand, perhaps I like that idea better,” she murmured as the gleam in her gaze turned the color of opals in the sun. “The gutter cats will adore me. I am sure your balls go well with grime and trash.”

“Hmm. And a nice Cabernet.” And here it came. The sarcasm was more a default than a decision, his version of a shaky knee or a nervous twitch in situations that had descended from bad to worse. But it was better than the panic. Anything was better than the fucking panic.

Still, he frowned in confusion. What the hell was so bad to worse about this? This hot water could be cooled at once with a simple phone conversation. The one he already happened to be having.

“Disconnect the call. Then throw down the phone.”

Well, shit.

“You don’t want me to do that…Princess.”

For the first time, her blade wobbled. So did her breath.

“Who the hell are you? And how—”

“Do I know who you are?” he supplied, making sure their gazes locked at the same second. “Why don’t you stow the blade so I can answer that properly? While you’re at it, maybe you can tell me where your friend went?”

He edited himself this time, deliberately not mentioning Requiemme by name. Didn’t help that the woman’s mute button was still engaged. Though he’d found their key target, he already knew Jayd wouldn’t comply with any plan before knowing her maid—assistant, whatever—was safe. He had no idea how he knew, but he did. Just like he knew, before the princess betrayed any new thoughts across her face, exactly what she was going to say next.

“That is no business of yours, Pura prispoul.”

“I’m not Pura.” He underlined it with enough authority to make her gaze bug wider. The tiny tic in her proud jaw announced that she noted the purposeful set of his. “Though if I were, you’d have just given yourself away, Your Highness.”

Her nostrils flared. She swallowed hard. He saw why, as soon as her stunning turquoises lit up with a telltale sheen. “Shut up.”

“I’ll consider it once you tell me which way Requiemme ran.” He said it mostly to buy time, subtly pivoting his wrist and tapping the button on his phone for a video connection to go with the audio. No way would Oz not be on top of the change. Hopefully, he’d be able to determine their location and get his ass over here.

“I said shut up!”

“You want help finding your friend or not, Princess?”

“No more questions!” Her punctuation, a practiced flick of the blade, was the first move he hadn’t predicted. As Brick glanced down and gawked at the small gash in his Henley and the corresponding nick in his sternum, Jayd Cimarron reset her stance. This time, she had her elbow cocked and the knife ready to plunge. “I am asking the questions, bonsun. And now you will answer me!”

“Jayd?”

The summons was strange. It came from a distance but not blocks away. After a second, Brick recognized the source—from the device in his hand.

“Jayd? Answer me!”

The princess looked around with frantic jerks of her head. The alley light played over her choppy hair, making it shimmer with shades of purple and amber. “Jagger? What—how are you—”

“Ripley! By the Creator, talk to me!”

She snatched Brick’s phone out of his hand. Her eyes got wetter as she peered at the screen. “Is it really you? What beneath the angels is going on? Why are you on this man’s—”

“Because I’m working with him.” Brick sucked up his nerves and just blurted it. By now it was pretty much the truth, and they had no time for a real tea party about this shit. “My name’s Max Brickham. Most people just call me Brick. I met your friend this morning. He relayed his urgency to find you, and—”

She shook her head with adamant violence. “I—I do not understand. Find me? Why? Jagger, where are you?”

“Here, Jayd,” he said. “Just as Brickham told you. I met him this morning, and—”

“You met him here? In Paris?”

“Yes.” He pushed out a rough breath, clearly losing patience. Brick was comforted by the commiseration. “I got here yesterday.”