“That theory is entirely plausible,” Mina replied, keeping an eye on the shadows in the distance. Goethe’s death was a bucket of icy water to the face, one she still hadn’t quite recovered from. “He hasn’t been entirely rational since winter, when word of the vaccination was released.”

It had been a challenge to the control the prince consort had wielded over the entire Echelon with his own “cure,” a mechanical device that filtered the craving virus from a blue blood’s body and lowered the individual’s CV percentages for several months. Blue bloods would have given him their souls for the use of it. Only now they didn’t have to.

Barrons suddenly swore, and Mina looked down sharply to see that the Falcon—far from being unconscious—had grabbed his shirt collar and was striking up with a knife. Barrons turned it, gritting his teeth and using his weight to slam it down into the man’s chest. The Falcon’s breath exhaled…then his hand fell to the ground.

Their eyes met. “He recognized you anyway,” Barrons murmured. “Best this way.”

She nodded slowly.

Light gleamed on a knife in the distance, and Goethe’s body jerked as the assassins started cutting out his heart. Bile rose in her throat. Could she have done anything? It had taken seconds; there was no way she could have crossed the space in that time, and her pistol’s range was limited, but perhaps…

No, there was nothing she could have done. Useless. Just like she’d been when her father was poisoned.

“Found the tattoo. He’s a Falcon. There will be more nearby.” Barrons slipped a knife from the man’s coat and flung it away. The gaslight nearby shattered, plunging them into complete darkness.

“What are you doing? They’ll hear that.”

“Do you honestly believe they’re not aware of us? You were watched from the moment you left that rotunda. They simply don’t consider you a threat at the moment, but I’ll hazard a guess that they’ll have men watching the gates. It’s how they work. They’ll take you when you try to leave.”

“How do we get out, then? I can hardly climb the walls in this.” A twitch of her skirts. She shot a look down the dark lane, her heart leaping into her throat. “They’ve vanished. The body too.”

Barrons looked at her. “Do you trust me?”

“No.” His father would have cut her down without thinking, but Barrons was an enigma. If he were a different man, she would have enjoyed his attentions, but a part of her couldn’t help wondering if his pursuit of her was just a way to get closer, to slip the knife in when she least expected it…

Could she trust that he meant her no harm?

His hand tightened around hers, dark heat sweeping through his irises. He focused on her so intently that she could almost feel it on her skin. “Then let us call a temporary truce for tonight. I shall help you escape. In return…”

“Yes?”

His voice roughened. “I want a kiss.”

A kiss. Tension slid sinuously along her limbs, each muscle clenching. Those motives she could certainly understand. It didn’t mean she had to like them.

Wariness spread through her as he lifted his hand and slowly, carefully brushed the back of his fingers against her lips. She didn’t flinch. Instead she tipped her chin up and glared him down. “Help me escape and I shall grant you such a liberty.” What harm could a single kiss do? “Until then”—she took a step back, her skirts swishing around her ankles—“I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself.”

His hand dropped but the ghostly sensation of that touch lingered, reminding her that it had been a long time since she’d been touched in any way intimately, and never like this. Never…soft. Full of gentleness, as if the very sensation of her skin beneath his was a pleasure in itself, not merely a step to greater satisfaction.

He was far more dangerous than she’d ever suspected, and she’d known, since the first moment she’d met him, that he was dangerous indeed. He was the only man who had ever managed to make her feel something.

“Agreed.” Barrons tilted his head in a nod.

“However, there’s something I must do first.”

“Oh?”

“I need that note.” Her heart hammered a little faster. Not because of Barrons. Of course not. If the prince consort got his hands on that note and decoded it, Goethe wouldn’t be the only one who died. She had given in to her queen and delivered the note although she knew how foolish it was. This was as much her fault as the queen’s. All along she’d known how dangerous it was to let one’s emotions hold sway. From now on, let cold, hard reason be her guide.

“A suicide mission,” Barrons said flatly.

“The nail in my coffin if I don’t get it back.”

For a moment she thought he’d refuse. Then his black eyes narrowed, his voice turning soft and smoky. “That is going to cost you considerably more than a kiss.”

A part of her was almost tempted to pay his price… But she hadn’t clawed her way up through the Echelon and held on to her duchy by giving in to her desires. “And the price?”

For a moment she thought his silence was the answer. It let her conjure up all manner of demands. Let her imagine them in explicit, nipple-hardening detail.

“I want to see your breasts,” he said finally.

“I thought you wanted me in your bed.”

“I do. But you will come of your own accord—”

Mina let out a rough laugh. “Never,” she whispered defiantly. “Now come. We’re wasting time.”

He caught her upper arm. “I’ll have your word first. Let’s just say I trust you as much as you trust me.”

“But you trust my word?”

“Once given.”

Damn him. “If you help me retrieve the note, I’ll allow you your intimacies for ten minutes. You will not touch me. Nor will you allow others to see me in such a state.”

“Slight amendment. I believe there should be some touching allowed. Agreed?”

She needed him and he knew it. Though a part of her was tempted to slap the smile off his face. “Agreed,” she replied through clenched teeth.

* * *

Mina played a most excellent damsel in distress.

Sobbing into her hands, she ran through the gardens, crashing directly into a hard chest. Hands came up to steady her.