Page 19 of The Mech Who Loved Me
"She'spretty."
"Isshe?"
That earned him a snort. "Not your usual sortatall—"
"What gave it away? The cravingvirus?"
"The intelligent, well-articulated and clearly educated conversation. The frills. The lace. The way she looksatyou—"
"She's completely innocent. I don't trouble myself with virgins. And she's not looking at me like that." Which was a blatant lie that would have earned a slap to the back of his head from his mother, God resthersoul.
Ava looked. She lingered too sometimes, and he was rake enough to know tumbling her into bed might require a little bit of effort, but not a lot. Someone wascurious.
And hurt. He was wise enough to understand Byrnes's recent marriage had something to do with Ava's sudden lingeringlooks.
Orla crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him with an evil look. "I know you, Liam Anthony Kincaid. You want to trouble yourself with her, virginornot."
"It'scomplicated."
"I assure you it's not. You've told me many times it's simply a matter of inserting yourcockinto—"
Kincaid clapped his human hand over her mouth. "Jaysus, woman. That's enough. She might be able tohearyou."
Orla's eyes were expressive enough that he grinned, and let her go. With a sigh, she reached up on her toes and brushed a kiss against hischeek.
"Don't break her heart," she whispered softly, as he turned for thestairs.
"I don'tintendto."
"Don't let her breakyourheartthen."
A flinch went through him. "No fear of that,Orla-luv"
"No?" Her words haunted him as he started down the stairs. "If you weren't worried about it, then you'd have had her twice overalready."
He paused halfway down the staircase and looked up at her. "She's not the sort of woman youtumble."
"She's themarryingsort?"
Henodded.
Orla's eyes turned big and soft with sorrow. "Oh. Maybe you should tell her then. Let her make her owndecisions?"
Not a chance. Kincaid turned his back on her before she could see what was on his face. Thank Christ Orla understood why he couldn't ever touch Ava, even if Iandidnot.
Five
"YOU'RE QUIET,"AVA murmured as she examinedthebody.
The riot had disbursed by the time they left Kincaid's uncle's house, leaving the streets oddly bare, though its echoes remained. Rubbish lay strewn in the gutters, glass was smashed in several shop fronts, and a smoky pall hung over everything. There'd been a full dozen Nighthawks holding the scene for her—three times as many as usual for something like this—and they'd been tense as she and Kincaidarrived.
"Got anything?" Kincaid clearly didn't want to discuss the odd scene at his uncle's house, and the way he'd barreled them out of there with barely a goodbye to hiscousin.
And then, of course, there was that half-muffled argument she'd tried desperately not to listen to, humming under her breath asvoicesrose.
"I'm not certain." Ava looked down at the deceased blue blood on the examiner's gurney. She'd been lucky Dr. Gibson, the Nighthawk who managed the mortuary at the guild, had been rostered on when thiscamein.
"Apart from his name...." Kincaid glanced at the notes the Nighthawks had given them. "Mr. David Thomas. Unfortunate cause of a riot. I wonder if they'll put that on hisheadstone?"
