Free Black and Blue by Gena Showalter

the gruesome Solo, perhaps use him as hired muscle. He definitely would have considered John the better sex slave.
    John, who hated being touched.
    Rakans were so rare, they were always top sellers.
    Blue closed his eyes against the horrors his friends might even now be enduring. He had to find the pair. Soon. Then he had to punish the man responsible.
    What did he know for sure?
    AIR thought Star was involved. But was he?
    There weren’t many men with enough connections or cunning to bypass the security Solo had set up at Michael’s. There weren’t many men rich enough to pay someone to set a bomb in such a high-ranking commander’s house, either, without fearing the consequences. Blue still figured that “someone” had to have used someone else—someone like Michael’s former assistant, because that was the only way such a plan could have worked.
    Star fit each instance. But then, so did a handful of others. But then, only Star had been a target for potential elimination.
    What exactly did AIR have on the man?
    Only one way to find out. Blue hacked into the AIR data system for information about Star, the explosion, Michael, the assistant’s death, any recent black-market auctions for a Rakan male, as well as a male matching Solo’s description. To his fury, he discovered a whole lot of nothing. Agent Gutierrez hadn’t even logged his interview with Evie.
    It was suspicious.
    What was the best way to handle this?
    If Blue returned from the dead to confront him, he could be placing a target on his back and giving up a very clear advantage. Although . . . the bomber might not even know Blue was involved. Michael had most likely been the main target, maybe even the only target. Then, when those two men had stepped into the scene—probably to ensure Michael was actually deceased—Blue was already unrecognizable.
    But could he put his hopes in, well, hope?
    No. So, for now, Blue would stay dead. There would be no confrontation with the AIR agent. Evie, though . . .
    Yeah. Having a partner might actually come in handy.
    One last task before he worked on a disguise. He deposited a million dollars in the account of the charity he secretly spearheaded, Safe Haven for Otherworlders, using one of his aliases. SHOW was a place where children living on the street could go for long-term food and shelter. The money should last until he returned to the land of the living, and could continue his weekly support.
    Blue strode to his private bathroom, and dug through his hidden stash of emergency supplies. Hair dye made specifically for his race. Colored contacts. A voice modifier chip. Studs for facial piercings. A serrated blade that would cause temporary scarring in an Arcadian.
    Why deal with makeup that could wash away? Blue preferred authenticity. Also, he thought he remembered Evie telling him that he needed a scar.
    He’d never had one, and he’d never imagined a woman would desire one—or that he’d want to cater to her.
    Tomorrow, he would test his new look on her—the only person he currently trusted. If she failed to recognize him, he’d know he was good to go.
    This could actually be fun.
    *  *  *
    The next morning Evie made her rounds at the hospital as usual. Then she talked to the chief of staff about taking an open-ended vacation. As expected, there were no arguments. Her coworkers would think she was taking terrible advantage of her status, as Blue had said, and she would have to agree. She totally was. But this was life and death for the only man she had ever loved, and she wasn’t going to feel guilty about it.
    At home, she strode straight into the kitchen, slammed her purse on the counter, and poured herself a much-needed glass of wine. When would Blue get here?
    And he had better get here. If he’d tricked her just to get rid of her . . .
    She drained the glass, barely tasting the hints ofplum and fig, and poured another. The air was still charged with electric power, she realized, from