Unbound

Bones sat down, keeping his hands close to the silver knives in his coat.

“Is everything okay?” Becca asked, glancing back and forth between them.

“Quite,” Bones replied, not letting his eyes stray from Ralmiel’s. “My friend just forgot his manners, interrupting our dinner.”

“I was going to wait for you outside,” Ralmiel said, settling back in his chair expansively, “but when I saw your chér amie, I decided to conclude our business tomorrow. After I learn more about la belle here.”

“I don’t like being spoken about as if I’m not even here,” Becca said, with a sharp glare at Ralmiel.

The waiter came with the check. Bones dropped several bills onto it without counting them, not tearing his attention from Ralmiel for a fraction longer than needed.

“Join us outside?” Bones asked, with an arched brow.

Ralmiel nodded. “Of course.”

Becca got her purse, still giving them wary glances. “Do you two need a minute alone to talk?”

No, Bones thought coolly. But I’d like a minute alone to kill him. He picked up his whiskey glass, noting with satisfaction that it was near full, and rose from the table.

“We’re fine, luv. Be finished up shortly.”

Bones and Ralmiel kept their attention on each other’s every move as they walked outside. The tension was thick enough to slice. Almost casually, Bones took a sip of his whiskey. Next to them, a group of smokers waited to get into the restaurant.

“What’s your plan, mate?” Bones asked. “Going to skulk after me and wait for your best chance?”

Ralmiel smirked. “Non, mon ami. I’m going to follow her home and then skulk around after you.”

Becca gasped. Bones just smiled. “I think not.”

Then he flung his whiskey on Ralmiel, using the lighter from the smoker nearest him to send Ralmiel up in flames.

Ralmiel screamed, swatting at the fire that covered the front of him. Several bystanders yelled as well. Bones didn’t wait to admire his handiwork. He yanked Becca with him through the crowd, ignoring her horrified sputtering. Once he found an alley, he propelled himself up in the night, covering both of them with his coat. Less chance of being noticed, since his coat was black against the night’s sky.

Ralmiel wouldn’t be following anyone, not in his condition.

Becca’s scream at being airborne was cut off by Bones clapping a hand over her mouth. He didn’t bother with the rooftops this time, but flew over the Quarter and beyond. He glanced back a few times, but there was no flying form chasing him. It would be too much to hope that Ralmiel hadn’t managed to douse the fire and was dead, but at least now he wouldn’t know where Becca lived.

She kicked and squirmed the entire way, making terrified grunting sounds against his hand. When they reached her neighborhood, Bones glanced around, saw no one loitering about, and set them on the ground by her front door.

“Shh, you’re fine, Becca,” he said, lasering her with his gaze. “I drove you home after dinner, and nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

She smiled at him, the fear melting away on her face.

“Thanks for a lovely evening,” she said.

Bones sighed, again regretting the necessity of using her. When this is over, he promised her silently, you’re getting a large donation in your bank account. It’s the bloody least I can do.

“No, luv, thank you,” he replied, brushing his lips across hers.

He’d intended it to be only a brief kiss, but she opened her mouth and twined her tongue with his, the scent of desire wafting from her.

Bones kissed her with more intensity, letting his hands slide to her waist. She gasped, and then groaned when his hips rubbed against hers.

Money isn’t all I can give her, Bones reflected. Becca didn’t want him to leave her at her door tonight. Her heartbeat and scent were screaming that to him.

She pulled away long enough to whisper, “Come inside.”

Again, it was the least he could do.

7

The float rounded the first street corner to the clamor of cheers. It was a mock-up of an opera stage, with a faux upper balcony and a piano in the forefront. Becca, barely recognizable in curled wig, theater makeup, and a long, Victorian dress, beamed at the crowd. Seated at the piano, Bones ran his hands over the keys while the float’s speakers blared out the familiar score from Phantom of the Opera.

More cheers came from the street’s onlookers, especially when Bones stood up and bowed. He wore a black tuxedo, with that trademark half-face mask obscuring his features, and a dark wig on his head. The other actors on the float mimed a musical rehearsal as Bones stalked toward Becca with the exaggerated seductiveness—and menace—of the Phantom.