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"Anytime, detective," he drawled and the corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk that should've been illegal. My heart did a little skip, and I wanted to hate it, hate him for making me feel this way—conflicted, anxious, and hell, if I wasn't careful, attracted.
Chapter
Twenty
The pounding on the door was like a goddamn marching band set up camp outside Oswin's penthouse. His glorified lair felt more like a prison than any place with velvet sofas had any right to feel. I was halfway through calling him out on his cryptic bullshit when Kylo and Ansel burst in.
I watched Kylo's eyes blaze as they took in the scene—me, unrestrained, thank fuck, and Oswin, looking like the cat that ate the canary.
"Are you okay, Ave?" He was at my side in a flash. His hands ghosted over me and searched for injuries that weren't there.
"Chill, I'm not the one who looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel," I muttered, but I let myself lean into his touch for just a second.
Before Oswin could open his mouth to probably spout some infuriatingly vague nonsense, Kylo's fist connected with his face. The crack echoed off the walls, and I couldn't help but wince. Not out of sympathy for Oswin, hell no, but because punches like that tend to hurt the giver too.
"Ow! My, my, Kylo, such passion." Oswin wiped a trickle of blood from his busted lip with an exaggerated gesture of grace. "We must spar more often. It's quite invigorating."
"Shut up, Oswin," Kylo snapped, and I silently agreed, even though a part of me found Oswin's flamboyance oddly entertaining. It was like watching a peacock fight a rooster—colorful, ridiculous, and bound to end with feathers everywhere.
"Kylo, dial down the testosterone," I said and placed a hand on his arm. "I have this under control."
"Control is an illusion, darling Averill," Oswin chimed in, still with that infuriating smirk plastered across his too-pretty face. "But if you must persist in this aggressive hospitality, do remind your caveman here that I bruise like a summer peach."
"Next time aim for his throat, Kylo. It might improve his singing voice," I groaned and earned a snort from Ansel and a warning glare from Kylo.
"Let's focus," I had to take charge before these two started measuring dicks or whatever. We had a snake to interrogate, and as much as Oswin's dramatics grated on me, I needed answers more than I needed to watch him eat his fancy drapes or whatever the rich did when they got bored.
"Answers, Oswin," I demanded and fixed him with a stare that had made grown men squirm. "And no more games. Or the next punch won't be coming from pretty boy over there."
"Promises, promises," he replied, but the flicker of exhaustion in his eyes told me he knew I meant business. I always do.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Kylo growled. His voice low and dangerous when he reached for my arm, but I shrugged him off.
"We can't blow this popsicle stand until we've got what we came for." But goddamn, I had to admit he looked hot with protective rage etched into every line of his body. The way those muscles tensed under his shirt...
Focus, Averill. Every time Kylo went into protector mode, it sent my pulse racing like a damn teenager with a crush. And standing there, looking like he wanted to murder someone for me, was doing all sorts of things to my self-control and my panties.
"Ansel, you're the brain-whisperer. Can you do your voodoo on him?" I jerked my chin towards Oswin. "I want to know if he's full of shit about my mom."
Ansel's face had taken on a paleness that didn't sit right with me. He was always the steady one, but now his eyes flickered with something close to fear.
"Look, Averill," Ansel's voice was laced with caution, "I'm not saying I can't do it. I can mind-dive like a champ, but this... This could have consequences we're not ready for."
"Consequences?" My tone was sharp. "You think I don't know about consequences? My whole damn life is a twisted web of them."
"Sure, but this is different," Ansel countered and ran a hand through his hair.
"Spit it out then. What's got you so spooked?"
He hesitated, and it took all I had not to snap at him to hurry the hell up. Patience wasn't exactly my forte.
"It's just...if Oswin isn't feeding us a line of bullshit and Annette—your mom—is actually alive..." He trailed off and left the implication hanging like a noose.
"Go on," I prodded and felt the room spin slightly around me. The idea that she could be out there, after all these years, felt like a sucker punch to the gut.
"Then she must have some serious tech at her disposal," he met my gaze. "Tech that can detect surges of paranormal activity. If we all dive into Oswin's head, it's going to send up a flare. A beacon with our exact location. It's one thing to take three people like before, but four? It's too much to hide. Are you sure it's worth the risk?"
"Am I sure?" My laugh was bitter, a sound that carried the weight of years spent chasing shadows. "Hell yes, I'm sure. Knowing if my mom's alive trumps playing it safe. I've been in the dark long enough."
