Free Marie Harte - [PowerUp! 08] by Killer Thoughts Page B

slouched deeper into the chair, trying to work his way through the puzzle of Owen Stallbridge. What the hell power did the man possess? His energy was too much to ignore, yet Ian couldn’t grasp the nature of Owen’s power to understand. It aggravated him to be so close yet so far from the key to figuring out what made Owen tick.
    “Hiding in here, eh?” Caleb Dalton stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.
    Ian blew out a breath. “What the hell do you want?”
    “I was looking for Owen, but I can talk to you as easily.”
    “Oh joy.”
    Caleb grinned. Ian found the man somewhat attractive—not on the level of Owen, but his energy and strength clearly marked him as someone appealing. Too bad he played for the wrong side.
    “Tell me, Ian, what are you really doing here?”
    Ian looked around. “What? In Owen’s bedroom? He and I are involved.” An innocuous-enough statement that alluded to a relationship without confirming it. “Why don’t you tell me how tight you two are?”
    Dalton entered Owen’s room as if he owned it and walked right up to Ian, standing over him.
    Refusing to be intimidated, Ian deliberately placed his hands behind his head and waited.
    “You fucking the boss to get ahead?”
    “That would be, fucking to get some head. But no. If I want sex, I get it easily enough.”
    Dalton snorted. “I’ll bet you do. Something tells me you fleece ’em by the dozen.”
    “Yeah, I’m a regular Mata Hari.”
    Dalton didn’t grin, and Ian didn’t like the sudden sober expression on his face.
    “Look,” Dalton growled. “Owen seems to like you. Why, I can’t say. But here’s the thing. You’re good at gathering information and staying invisible when you need to. I think Owen might need that if the shit hits the fan like I think it’s going to. How much do you know about Carl Kerr?”
    “I know never to be in a room with him without a gun in my hand aimed at his forehead.”
    “The asshole has had a bug up his ass about the Stallbridges for years. Owen in particular. He’s going to stretch this out, take out whatever Owen cares about, then strike when Owen least expects it. The household is at risk, and if Owen likes you more than he should, you’re at risk.”
    Ian’s heart raced. “What? So Kerr will come after me? He can bring it on. I’ve faced badasses tougher than him. You were tracking me at some point, I’m sure. I survived you.”
    “Yeah, but I would have just turned you in to the cops. Kerr will carve you up and spit you out, strangled on your own intestines.” Dalton paused and lowered his voice. “If you’re smart, you’ll get out while you can. Ditch this place, and don’t come up for air until you know for a fact Kerr is dead.”
    “Owen told you to warn me off?”
    “Owen’s a prick with an overly large ego.” Dalton sneered. “He thinks he can keep the demons at bay by locking his fucking windows. A sniper will shoot them out in two seconds flat. And don’t get me started on a telekinetic or a pyro. He’s not protected, not like he should be.”
    “And I’m a distraction?” Ian wasn’t sure how to feel. Good that Owen cared about him enough to worry, or bad that he might be putting Owen’s life in danger?
    “Yes, you are. I’m worried that Kerr will take you out, with you sitting here like a target. And then Owen will wallow in guilt that you died because of him. Guy has enough problems. He doesn’t need to feel guilty because of you too.”
    Too? What else did Owen feel guilty about? Ian stared at Dalton, wondering how to make the man spill more information. “Why would my death be a problem? I know what I’m getting into with him.”
    “Do you?” Dalton stared at him. “Do you really?”
    Pressure pushed at his brain, and Ian shielded himself the way he’d been taught years ago. “Try that with a weaker mind.”
    Dalton nodded, looking thoughtful. “Not a complete pussy. That’s good.”
    “For God’s sake. Being gay