"Hate to tell you this, but it doesn't work."
"Trust me, this would be a whole lot more painful if it wasn't. Now, say something else so I know they're working properly."
"I hope one day someone does this to you, just so you can see it is painful, painkiller or no painkiller." My voice was several octaves lower, and rich with a huskiness that conjured long nights in smoke filled rooms. A threat had never sounded so sexy, let me tell you.
"Very nice," he murmured, then bent and grabbed a backpack. "You wardrobe and worldly possessions."
"Joy." I unzipped the bag. Inside was jeans, tank tops, a pair of sneakers, a belt that had a real-looking spider as the buckle, a couple of sweaters and one barely-there dress. All of them looked worse for wear, worn and wrinkled looking. Except for the underclothing, all of which was top shelf and extremely sexy.
"A female thief would at least ensure decent underclothing, no matter what other state her clothes were in," Liander commented.
"But I'm not a very successful thief if this bag is all I have to show for it."
"Jack told me your cover had to leave Sydney in a hurry, and to pack accordingly. Why don't you change, then I can get on with transforming Rhoan."
"And just what are you going to do with Rhoan?"
"Brown on brown. Boringly so."
I raised an eyebrow. "If you're hoping boring will mean less appealing, I'm thinking it won't work."
He smiled. "No, but he hates boring, so it's a chance to get back at him a little."
I chuckled softly. After changing into the jeans and a dark-green tank top, I studied myself in the mirror. Someone remarkably younger, with a whole lot of sex appeal and attitude, stared back at me. Despite my original misgivings, I had to admit, it was a fantastic look. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You do good work."
"I am the best at what I do," he said loftily, then grinned. "Go tell that loser brother of yours it's his turn."
I headed out, and even Jack did something of a double take. "Now that's what I call smashing."
"I think I should be offended about all these sudden comments. It's only a hair and skin-color change. The rest is still me."
"Except for the voice," Rhoan said. "You could make a fortune on those phone-sex lines."
"We'll see who's laughing at whom when he finishes with you, smart ass." I glanced at Jack as Rhoan headed off. "This look doesn't really match the type of person Dia seems to pick."
"As I said, she doesn't pick only prostitutes. Her other choices generally have good figures and looks, are clean disease-wise, and have a background that checks out—someone who needs to make a lot of money and who doesn't mind spreading her legs to do it."
"And what if she doesn't notice me, or doesn't choose me?"
"Oh, she'll at least notice you."
I raised my eyebrows. "And how are you going to ensure that?"
He gave me one of his pleased smiles. "Tonight you're going to save Dia Jones's life."
"And of course," I said, voice dry, "she'll be so grateful, she'll beg me to come along to Starr's estate and shag the balls off his two lieutenants."
Jack grinned. "That's the plan."
"And if she decides not to follow your plan?"
"She will. Poppy is exactly what she's looking for—someone with no morals, who doesn't care what she does for cash."
Nothing like being confident in a plan. Maybe it was the pessimist in me, or maybe it was that pesky, emerging clairvoyance skill, but either way, I wasn't so sure everything would hill into place as neatly as Jack might wish. "And when I get to the estate?"
"Take a day or so to settle in—you'll be watched fairly closely in that period, at least, so don't try anything until you think you're in the clear."
"And when I think I am?"
"You attract the attention of Starr's lieutenants, and drag all the information out of their minds that you can."
It wasn't going to be that easy, and we both knew it. For a start, I was basically still a novice when it came to mind-reading, and my control wasn't always what it should be. Though given what I'd done to Quinn this morning, maybe that was more due to an increase in power than any lack in skill. Maybe I was having so much trouble simply because the power I was controlling was greater each time, and I hadn't the skill to realize it. "What if I can't read their minds?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"What I said. You may have been teaching me the finer points of telepathic control, but that doesn't mean I'll be able to break through their shields. They might even have electronic shields in place."
"Then you figure a way around either event." Great. Thinking on my feet—or rather, my back. Just what I needed on top of trying to survive these lunatics. "How do I keep in contact?"
"You'll have a two-way com-link inserted—it'll also double as a tracker. And I'll be close enough that you can contact me telepathically, if needed."
"So if I get into trouble, I can call in the cavalry?"
"You can call. No guarantee we'll answer." I snorted softly. I'd been with the Directorate long enough that I'd known the answer even before I asked the question. Jack wasn't going to risk the entire mission on getting me out if things went ass up, simply because Rhoan and Kade would still be in there. And unless those two also got into trouble, we were on our own as far as the Directorate was concerned.
"And with operative support like that, you wonder why I didn't want to become a guardian."
He chuckled. "Darlin', you might not have wanted to become one, but you'll be a better one than your brother."
"You can play that tune all you like, but you're not convincing me to sing along." Which was almost a rote protest by now, but I couldn't let Jack think he'd won my complete acceptance.
"We'll see." He handed me a couple of folders. "Study Poppy's profile, then look at the details Kade's been able to provide about Starr's estate."
I flipped through the second of the two folders. "There doesn't seem to be a lot."
"Because Kade only has access to the outside areas. Still, you need to know security and boundary details, as well as profiles of those who work in those areas."
"Because you never know who I might have to seduce for the good of the cause," I said dryly.
He grinned again, and slapped a hand on my shoulder, "Darlin', you're thinking so much like me it's almost scary."
"The day I think like you is the day I'll stand in front of a silver bullet." I waved the two folders. "If you want me to study these, you need not only to feed me, but supply me with caffeine."
"The pizza and coffee is already ordered." He glanced at his watch. "They should be here in ten minutes, and if you're not studying by then, you get nothing."
"Bastard."
"Totally. Go read."
I did.
The air in the tram was rich with the overwhelming scent of humanity. I hung out near the back door, desperately trying to get some of the fresh air coming in from the cracks of the bifold doors. I hated trams at the best of times. They were far worse than trains—smaller, more crowded—and always managed to give me that "penned-in" feeling.
I hitched the backpack onto a more comfortable position on my shoulder, managing to hit the man standing beside me yet again. He swore, and I snarled right back. Poppy had attitude. Right now, in this stinking, humanity-soaked metal box on electric wheels, I was ready to give it.
I glanced at the windows, studying the night flooded street, and noted with some relief that we were nearing my stop. Butterflies stirred in my stomach, but I beat them down ruthlessly I couldn't afford butterflies, or fear, or anything else. For good or for bad, I was now on the path of no return. What might lie at the very end of that path, no one, not even me, was willing to guess. I could only hope it was a return to normal life.