"Aphrodite's_Passion_021" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_02]_-_Aphrodite's_Passion_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file...)

Chapter Eighteen

“Tracy!”
The voice came from behind her, and Tracy spun around from where she was cuddling Laddie to try and locate the source.
“Tracy! Over here!” Leon. Rushing right toward her?
The last person in the world she wanted to see after the utter humiliation of last night.
“What do you want?” She stood up, wiping her hands on her dress. Hopefully, he wanted to jump off a bridge into traffic. But she doubted it.
She glanced behind her, hoping Deena and Lane were there for moral support, but they were still inside the store, giving their own credit cards a major workout. Only Laddie was around. His eyes were wide and earnest.
“You look beautiful.” Leon’s puppy-dog expression matched Laddie’s. Considering the hideous way he’d behaved at her house last night, she couldn’t help but wonder if the guy was schizo. Then she wondered how much The National Enquirer would pay for an article about how America’s latest heartthrob needed to be locked in a loony bin. Enough for her property taxes?
She imagined Leon in a straightjacket and a padded cell, and had to admit the thought was tempting. She’d never do it, of course, but she could cherish the image.
“Listen, Leon. I’m really not in the mood. I’m shopping with friends—”
“I’m a friend.”
“The hell you are.” It burst out of her on a spurt of anger. She considered taking it back, especially when she saw his puppy-dog eyes get all wounded, but the truth was the truth. “You’ve been a total jerk.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, real contrition in his voice. “It’s just that, well, you make me nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” The thought cheered her, and she wondered if she shouldn’t give him another shot. No. Shaking her head, she reached for common sense and held on tight. “Forget it, Leon. You already fooled me twice. I’m not getting up to the plate to strike out. It’s not going to happen.”
Beside her, Laddie growled and bared his teeth, his eyes focusing on Leon’s groin.
The blood drained from Leon’s face, and he took a step backward.
She patted Laddie’s head. “Good dog.”
“Can’t I even buy you a drink? A soda? A cookie?”
“No.” She was rapidly moving from angered humiliation to simple anger. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d just leave.”
“I can’t. I—”
Something rushed by him then, and Tracy thought the something would rush by her, too, until she felt extra-large hands gripping her around the waist and pulling her to the ground. A burly man with flaming red hair, a pockmarked face, and serious bad breath was just inches away.
“Gimme purse,” said a strangled, voice. It was somehow familiar. Like the guy who’d tried to mug her when she’d had the flat tire.
And what was even stranger was that he wasn’t reaching for her purse at all. Again, he was fumbling at her waist. What was with these guys?
“Pervert!” Tracy screamed and kicked and clawed, but the guy was persistent. Not to mention heavy, and it was all she could do to struggle beneath him. “Get away from me!” she cried. Nothing. The guy didn’t even budge. “Leon! Help!” She managed to turn her head, silently imploring the actor to be the hero he played on the television show.
But Leon didn’t move. Just stood there with his eyes wide. Some hero. Had she really considered having a fling with this guy?
The redheaded cretin made another tug for her belt, managing to grab part of her dress. The muggers in the parking lot, they’d been reaching for her waist, too. She’d thought it was the tire iron they wanted, but...
He fumbled at the clasp of her belt. “Itsa not coming off. Take off. Give to me.”
“Get off me!” Tracy yelled, in no mood to follow orders from a smelly mugger. She twisted out of his grasp, trying to pry his hands from the belt. No way was he getting her grandmother’s belt. It simply was not going to happen.
Laddie, bless him, must have agreed, and he lunged at her assailant, sinking his teeth into the back of the man’s thigh.
The mugger squealed and yanked once more at Tracy’s waist. Miraculously, the belt stayed on tight, despite the fact that the clasp had never seemed too sturdy. Thank goodness.
And then the mugger got in her face, snarled, and ripped her purse off her arm. The move surprised Tracy, since up until that point, he’d been totally uninterested in anything but the belt. Reacting immediately, she brought her knee up with every ounce of strength in her body, catching him right where it counts.
She bit back a satisfied, half-hysterical laugh, sure he’d grab his private parts, howl in pain, then keel over. But he didn’t. For that matter, the guy hardly seemed fazed at all.
What the ... ? She’d spent a hundred and fifty dollars and two weekends in a self-defense class for that? This guy was supposed to be out of commission. Instead, he was getting away.
And fast.
Already he’d managed to get off her and scurry a few yards away—her purse dangling from his arm—apparently totally unfazed by her oh-so-well-placed knee.
“No!” She was on her feet in an instant, running after him. Laddie was right beside her, yapping his head off.
The behemoth turned and snarled at her, and she knew—she just knew—she was going to have to let him get away. And there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about it. But, right when she was sure all was lost, someone tall and dark streaked out of nowhere, knocking Super Creep to the ground. As the two went rolling end over end over, Laddie’s yaps transformed into full-fledged barks and Tracy yelled encouragement to the stranger.
They flipped over, and she saw only the creep. Then she blinked, and ... her dark-haired knight looked an awful lot like ... Hale?
She peered closer, trying to get a good look without getting kicked by the flailing limbs. “Hale?”
The tussle stopped for just an instant, and their eyes met.
She swallowed, surprised by the force of her reaction. Once again, her hero had come to her rescue. And damned if she didn’t like the feeling.

* * *
Bop! Ka-pow! Blam! Blooey!
Over and over Hale rolled with the mugger, his mind going a million miles a minute even as his fists were flying faster, each blow sinking into the Henchman’s squishy flesh.
Damn Hieronymous. He’d sent a little Henchman invasion to Los Angeles, and apparently it was Hale’s new job to stop them.

Fortunately, Henchmen might be known for being sneaky and slimy—under their human guise they looked a lot like walking squid—but good fighters, they weren’t. Hale had little nervousness about besting the critter. The trick would be to overpower it without hinting to Tracy that he was any stronger or faster than your average guy.
Bop! Hale landed another wallop, the Henchman’s nose squishing under the blow. Blam! He got it in the gut, his hand sinking where it had no business sinking.
A quick glance behind him confirmed that Tracy was watching the whole thing eagerly, gnawing on her lip as she jumped up and down, yelling encouragement to him.
Pow! Pop! A one-two punch, and the Henchman groaned. Hale assumed he’d hit him in some sensitive spot. Not that he could tell. The mugger might look human, but he felt like a glop of goo, and fighting goo wasn’t easy. Even for a superhero.
The creature kicked and flailed, but Hale dodged his blows, and with Tracy cheering him on, he reached out and grabbed her purse, not sure why a Henchman would want it. Perhaps it was similar to spoils of war—if the beast couldn’t take the belt to Hieronymous, he’d take the purse. The weird part was that Hale had no idea why the Henchman hadn’t managed to get the belt off Tracy’s waist. At the moment, though, he supposed it didn’t matter. The belt was safe and Hale needed to recover Tracy’s purse and snare the bad guy. Yet while he managed to close his fingers over the leather strap, the Henchman himself slipped from Hale’s grip. In no time at all, the monster was gone, jiggling away down the stairs at the back of the mall.
Hale considered running after him, then decided it wasn’t worth it. Instead, he’d corner Mordi and find out what exactly was going on. He glanced around for the dog, then sighed. Apparently, after sinking his teeth into the fight, Mordi had flown the coop, too.
Still, the fact that his cousin had helped Tracy at all gave Hale pause. Was Mordi really firmly entrenched in the Council now? Or was he still playing both sides of the fence?
He didn’t have time to ponder the question, because Tracy launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You did it!” she yelled.
Considering the outcome hadn’t ever really been up for debate, he felt a little hypocritical accepting her enthusiastic kisses. But not hypocritical enough to peel the girl off. If she wanted to thank him, who was he to say no? After all, Protectors protected. He’d just been doing his job.
AH in all, it felt pretty nice.
Her arms were still around his neck when Tracy stopped dusting his cheek with kisses. Leaning back, she looked him in the eye, her expression almost horrified. “I’m so sorry.” She let go, sliding off him and taking a step back. “I didn’t mean—”
Before he had time to reconsider, he took her hand, pulling her close until her breasts were pressed against him. “Are you telling me I have to give those kisses back?”
He could feel her heart beating against his chest, its tempo increasing.
“No.” A single, breathy word. “The kisses are yours to keep.”
Deena stepped out from the storefront where she and Lane had just appeared. “Do you want to tell us what’s going on?”
Hale shot them each a meaningful glance. “I’m going to take Tracy home. Whose car did you come in?”
“Tracy’s,” Lane said.
He turned to Tracy. “Give me your keys.”
For a second, he thought she was going to protest, but then she dug into her purse and tossed him a key ring.
“Can you get into your house?”
Tracy nodded. “I have a spare.”
“Here.” He stepped closer to Lane. “Drive Deena home. Then head on back to my sister’s. I’ll give you the full scoop in the morning.” When she nodded, he lowered his voice. “Tell Zoë what happened. Tell her the Henchmen aren’t just in the Valley anymore.”
As he expected, Lane’s eyes went wide. She’d had her own little run-in with the Henchmen not too long ago, and Hale knew they didn’t rank up there on her favorite persons list.
“So, are you two still going out tonight?” Deena asked. Leave it to her to cut to the chase.
He moved back to Tracy and curled an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. “That depends on what she wants.”
“I hope we are.” Tracy tilted her head back, the beginnings of a smile on her lips. “I’m just shook up. I’m not hurt. I’d like to go out on the town.”
Hale nodded, feeling foolishly proud of her. For a mortal, she was damn resilient.
“Well, you two have fun,” Deena said. She turned to Lane. “Ready?”
While the girls backtracked to the entrance of the parking garage, Hale turned back to Tracy, then realized he had no idea what to say to her. Part of him wanted to lecture her on being safer—didn’t she know she was a target for Hieronymous? But of course she didn’t, and that was part of the point.
Another part of him wanted to pull her close and hold her tight.
And yet another part of him was wishing for an allergy attack so he could sneeze, disappear, and then run far and fast from this woman who was messing with his head.
Tracy solved the dilemma for him.
In one quick motion, she was on her toes, her arms around his neck. Then, before he even knew what to expect, she kissed him, her mouth firm against his.
He groaned, low in the back of his throat, as his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. A soft, blissful sound escaped her, and Hale’s body tensed simply from the knowledge that one simple kiss was affecting her as much as it was affecting him.
He didn’t like this. He didn’t need this. But, dammit, for just a few seconds he wanted the oblivion her lips promised. Wanted to not think about anything. Not that she was mortal. Not that he was supposed to be seducing her, as opposed to the other way around. Nothing.
For a few seconds of bliss, his world consisted only of her rose-petal-soft lips pressed against his mouth and the flowery scent of her shampoo.
And, for just an instant, Hale actually forgot that she was a mortal.

Chapter Eighteen

“Tracy!”
The voice came from behind her, and Tracy spun around from where she was cuddling Laddie to try and locate the source.
“Tracy! Over here!” Leon. Rushing right toward her?
The last person in the world she wanted to see after the utter humiliation of last night.
“What do you want?” She stood up, wiping her hands on her dress. Hopefully, he wanted to jump off a bridge into traffic. But she doubted it.
She glanced behind her, hoping Deena and Lane were there for moral support, but they were still inside the store, giving their own credit cards a major workout. Only Laddie was around. His eyes were wide and earnest.
“You look beautiful.” Leon’s puppy-dog expression matched Laddie’s. Considering the hideous way he’d behaved at her house last night, she couldn’t help but wonder if the guy was schizo. Then she wondered how much The National Enquirer would pay for an article about how America’s latest heartthrob needed to be locked in a loony bin. Enough for her property taxes?
She imagined Leon in a straightjacket and a padded cell, and had to admit the thought was tempting. She’d never do it, of course, but she could cherish the image.
“Listen, Leon. I’m really not in the mood. I’m shopping with friends—”
“I’m a friend.”
“The hell you are.” It burst out of her on a spurt of anger. She considered taking it back, especially when she saw his puppy-dog eyes get all wounded, but the truth was the truth. “You’ve been a total jerk.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, real contrition in his voice. “It’s just that, well, you make me nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” The thought cheered her, and she wondered if she shouldn’t give him another shot. No. Shaking her head, she reached for common sense and held on tight. “Forget it, Leon. You already fooled me twice. I’m not getting up to the plate to strike out. It’s not going to happen.”
Beside her, Laddie growled and bared his teeth, his eyes focusing on Leon’s groin.
The blood drained from Leon’s face, and he took a step backward.
She patted Laddie’s head. “Good dog.”
“Can’t I even buy you a drink? A soda? A cookie?”
“No.” She was rapidly moving from angered humiliation to simple anger. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d just leave.”
“I can’t. I—”
Something rushed by him then, and Tracy thought the something would rush by her, too, until she felt extra-large hands gripping her around the waist and pulling her to the ground. A burly man with flaming red hair, a pockmarked face, and serious bad breath was just inches away.
“Gimme purse,” said a strangled, voice. It was somehow familiar. Like the guy who’d tried to mug her when she’d had the flat tire.
And what was even stranger was that he wasn’t reaching for her purse at all. Again, he was fumbling at her waist. What was with these guys?
“Pervert!” Tracy screamed and kicked and clawed, but the guy was persistent. Not to mention heavy, and it was all she could do to struggle beneath him. “Get away from me!” she cried. Nothing. The guy didn’t even budge. “Leon! Help!” She managed to turn her head, silently imploring the actor to be the hero he played on the television show.
But Leon didn’t move. Just stood there with his eyes wide. Some hero. Had she really considered having a fling with this guy?
The redheaded cretin made another tug for her belt, managing to grab part of her dress. The muggers in the parking lot, they’d been reaching for her waist, too. She’d thought it was the tire iron they wanted, but...
He fumbled at the clasp of her belt. “Itsa not coming off. Take off. Give to me.”
“Get off me!” Tracy yelled, in no mood to follow orders from a smelly mugger. She twisted out of his grasp, trying to pry his hands from the belt. No way was he getting her grandmother’s belt. It simply was not going to happen.
Laddie, bless him, must have agreed, and he lunged at her assailant, sinking his teeth into the back of the man’s thigh.
The mugger squealed and yanked once more at Tracy’s waist. Miraculously, the belt stayed on tight, despite the fact that the clasp had never seemed too sturdy. Thank goodness.
And then the mugger got in her face, snarled, and ripped her purse off her arm. The move surprised Tracy, since up until that point, he’d been totally uninterested in anything but the belt. Reacting immediately, she brought her knee up with every ounce of strength in her body, catching him right where it counts.
She bit back a satisfied, half-hysterical laugh, sure he’d grab his private parts, howl in pain, then keel over. But he didn’t. For that matter, the guy hardly seemed fazed at all.
What the ... ? She’d spent a hundred and fifty dollars and two weekends in a self-defense class for that? This guy was supposed to be out of commission. Instead, he was getting away.
And fast.
Already he’d managed to get off her and scurry a few yards away—her purse dangling from his arm—apparently totally unfazed by her oh-so-well-placed knee.
“No!” She was on her feet in an instant, running after him. Laddie was right beside her, yapping his head off.
The behemoth turned and snarled at her, and she knew—she just knew—she was going to have to let him get away. And there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about it. But, right when she was sure all was lost, someone tall and dark streaked out of nowhere, knocking Super Creep to the ground. As the two went rolling end over end over, Laddie’s yaps transformed into full-fledged barks and Tracy yelled encouragement to the stranger.
They flipped over, and she saw only the creep. Then she blinked, and ... her dark-haired knight looked an awful lot like ... Hale?
She peered closer, trying to get a good look without getting kicked by the flailing limbs. “Hale?”
The tussle stopped for just an instant, and their eyes met.
She swallowed, surprised by the force of her reaction. Once again, her hero had come to her rescue. And damned if she didn’t like the feeling.

* * *
Bop! Ka-pow! Blam! Blooey!
Over and over Hale rolled with the mugger, his mind going a million miles a minute even as his fists were flying faster, each blow sinking into the Henchman’s squishy flesh.
Damn Hieronymous. He’d sent a little Henchman invasion to Los Angeles, and apparently it was Hale’s new job to stop them.
Fortunately, Henchmen might be known for being sneaky and slimy—under their human guise they looked a lot like walking squid—but good fighters, they weren’t. Hale had little nervousness about besting the critter. The trick would be to overpower it without hinting to Tracy that he was any stronger or faster than your average guy.
Bop! Hale landed another wallop, the Henchman’s nose squishing under the blow. Blam! He got it in the gut, his hand sinking where it had no business sinking.
A quick glance behind him confirmed that Tracy was watching the whole thing eagerly, gnawing on her lip as she jumped up and down, yelling encouragement to him.
Pow! Pop! A one-two punch, and the Henchman groaned. Hale assumed he’d hit him in some sensitive spot. Not that he could tell. The mugger might look human, but he felt like a glop of goo, and fighting goo wasn’t easy. Even for a superhero.
The creature kicked and flailed, but Hale dodged his blows, and with Tracy cheering him on, he reached out and grabbed her purse, not sure why a Henchman would want it. Perhaps it was similar to spoils of war—if the beast couldn’t take the belt to Hieronymous, he’d take the purse. The weird part was that Hale had no idea why the Henchman hadn’t managed to get the belt off Tracy’s waist. At the moment, though, he supposed it didn’t matter. The belt was safe and Hale needed to recover Tracy’s purse and snare the bad guy. Yet while he managed to close his fingers over the leather strap, the Henchman himself slipped from Hale’s grip. In no time at all, the monster was gone, jiggling away down the stairs at the back of the mall.
Hale considered running after him, then decided it wasn’t worth it. Instead, he’d corner Mordi and find out what exactly was going on. He glanced around for the dog, then sighed. Apparently, after sinking his teeth into the fight, Mordi had flown the coop, too.
Still, the fact that his cousin had helped Tracy at all gave Hale pause. Was Mordi really firmly entrenched in the Council now? Or was he still playing both sides of the fence?
He didn’t have time to ponder the question, because Tracy launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You did it!” she yelled.
Considering the outcome hadn’t ever really been up for debate, he felt a little hypocritical accepting her enthusiastic kisses. But not hypocritical enough to peel the girl off. If she wanted to thank him, who was he to say no? After all, Protectors protected. He’d just been doing his job.
AH in all, it felt pretty nice.
Her arms were still around his neck when Tracy stopped dusting his cheek with kisses. Leaning back, she looked him in the eye, her expression almost horrified. “I’m so sorry.” She let go, sliding off him and taking a step back. “I didn’t mean—”
Before he had time to reconsider, he took her hand, pulling her close until her breasts were pressed against him. “Are you telling me I have to give those kisses back?”
He could feel her heart beating against his chest, its tempo increasing.
“No.” A single, breathy word. “The kisses are yours to keep.”
Deena stepped out from the storefront where she and Lane had just appeared. “Do you want to tell us what’s going on?”
Hale shot them each a meaningful glance. “I’m going to take Tracy home. Whose car did you come in?”
“Tracy’s,” Lane said.
He turned to Tracy. “Give me your keys.”
For a second, he thought she was going to protest, but then she dug into her purse and tossed him a key ring.
“Can you get into your house?”
Tracy nodded. “I have a spare.”
“Here.” He stepped closer to Lane. “Drive Deena home. Then head on back to my sister’s. I’ll give you the full scoop in the morning.” When she nodded, he lowered his voice. “Tell Zoë what happened. Tell her the Henchmen aren’t just in the Valley anymore.”
As he expected, Lane’s eyes went wide. She’d had her own little run-in with the Henchmen not too long ago, and Hale knew they didn’t rank up there on her favorite persons list.
“So, are you two still going out tonight?” Deena asked. Leave it to her to cut to the chase.
He moved back to Tracy and curled an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. “That depends on what she wants.”
“I hope we are.” Tracy tilted her head back, the beginnings of a smile on her lips. “I’m just shook up. I’m not hurt. I’d like to go out on the town.”
Hale nodded, feeling foolishly proud of her. For a mortal, she was damn resilient.
“Well, you two have fun,” Deena said. She turned to Lane. “Ready?”
While the girls backtracked to the entrance of the parking garage, Hale turned back to Tracy, then realized he had no idea what to say to her. Part of him wanted to lecture her on being safer—didn’t she know she was a target for Hieronymous? But of course she didn’t, and that was part of the point.
Another part of him wanted to pull her close and hold her tight.
And yet another part of him was wishing for an allergy attack so he could sneeze, disappear, and then run far and fast from this woman who was messing with his head.
Tracy solved the dilemma for him.
In one quick motion, she was on her toes, her arms around his neck. Then, before he even knew what to expect, she kissed him, her mouth firm against his.
He groaned, low in the back of his throat, as his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. A soft, blissful sound escaped her, and Hale’s body tensed simply from the knowledge that one simple kiss was affecting her as much as it was affecting him.
He didn’t like this. He didn’t need this. But, dammit, for just a few seconds he wanted the oblivion her lips promised. Wanted to not think about anything. Not that she was mortal. Not that he was supposed to be seducing her, as opposed to the other way around. Nothing.
For a few seconds of bliss, his world consisted only of her rose-petal-soft lips pressed against his mouth and the flowery scent of her shampoo.
And, for just an instant, Hale actually forgot that she was a mortal.