The Temptation of Four

by Eva Chase

  I didn’t let go of the baton the whole journey down.

  Evening was falling by the time I made it back to my car. I peeled off my equipment, dropped into the driver’s seat, and sent a quick text to Bash. Have returned alive. Located commune. Then I tipped the seat back to let myself rest for a few minutes before heading back to the city.

  My chest still felt tight, even though the scouting mission had gone perfectly. I’d survived. I’d found a route through the caves to the commune. I had a reasonable expectation of breaking my way the rest of the way through when I needed to.

  But for some reason a hole almost as deep as that chasm had opened up inside me.

  I needed to put that close call behind me. Move forward, move onward. I’d feel better once I got away from this place.

  It was full-out night when I reached Split. I slipped between cheerful friends and couples strolling along the sidewalks to grab a seat in the first bar I spotted. The bartender brought me a burger and then a couple of beers with professional politeness. The alcohol added a slight fizz to my thoughts but didn’t really dull my uneasiness.

  Keep moving. I left the bar and meandered around the downtown strip until I spotted an asshole spewing drunken pick-up lines at every woman who passed him. I sidled over from behind and neatly lifted his wallet.

  Looking at the contents around a corner didn’t give me even a little spark of satisfaction. Thirty dollars’ worth of local currency and a few credit cards I had no real use for. What the fuck was I doing?

  Trying to be okay. Trying to walk far enough to walk away from things I hadn’t wanted to feel.

  But I did feel them. They were part of me. What was the point in denying myself something I wanted that I could have? If it crashed and burned, I wouldn’t be any worse off than I was right now.

  I wove through the streets to my hotel with a knot in my stomach but resolve swelling around it. When I reached my floor, I pulled the second keycard out of my purse. Bash and I had exchanged our extra copies in case we needed quick access to each other’s belongings.

  I eased his door open to find the room dark, the blackout curtain pulled, and the slow rasp of sleeping breath drifting through the air. With silent footsteps, I crossed the room to the bed.

  Bash was sprawled there on his back, a little off to one side, his face tipped to the pillow.

  My body balked for a second. Then, ever so carefully, I sat on the opposite edge of the bed and lay down on top of the covers.

  Bash stirred and settled. I closed my eyes and dragged in my first truly full breath since my fall in the caves. With the scent of gun oil seeping into my lungs, my limbs relaxed into the bed.

  I was here. We could deal with the rest in the morning.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jemma

  A hitch of the mattress snapped me out of sleep. My head jerked up.

  Bash was staring at me, sitting half upright where he must have startled to see me in his bed, the covers sliding down his brawny torso. As the initial surprise faded from his expression, his jaw tightened with concern.

  “Are you all right, Mori? If you didn’t think you were safe to stay in your room, why didn’t you wake me up?”

  I stretched and pushed myself upright, yesterday’s blouse and pants shifting against my body in their wrinkled state. Last night, coming here had felt so complicated. Now, with Bash’s musky scent surrounding me and his instinctive protectiveness immediately on display, all my anxieties seemed ridiculous.

  This was Sebastian Moran. I knew him better than I’d ever known anyone, and he knew me like no one else. If I wanted to take this step without it ending in a mess, he was as close as I was going to get to a sure thing.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my room,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other morning and how I feel, and I’ve changed my mind. We should take it slow, but I’d like to give us a try. As lovers.”

  Bash blinked as he straightened up, but in spite of his apparent bemusement, an eager warmth had lit in his light green eyes. He glanced from me to the door. “And you figured the best way to tell me that was by sneaking into my room in the middle of the night?”

  The corner of my lips twitched upward. “I thought I should make some demonstration of being good to my word. I… I haven’t trusted anyone enough to sleep next to them in ten years, other than you. And this time I was thinking clearly about it.”

  He didn’t seem to know what to say about that. He edged his hand across the bed to rest at the small of my back, his thumb tracing an arc over my spine. “What changed your mind?”

  The lump that had filled my throat yesterday in the caves returned. I willed it down. “I can do this alone,” I said, because it suddenly felt very important to make that clear. “But I don’t want to. Pretending there’s nothing more between us than business is just as likely to fuck things up as, well, fucking.”

  I don’t want to lose you. That understanding sat in my gut, too heavy for me to propel into words, but maybe he could hear it in what I did say.

  Bash scooted closer to loop his arm right around my waist. “Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Like I said, I want to take things slow. We’re not jumping right to the fucking part. I want to be sure my intentions are in the right place when it comes to you. And—if we’re doing this, you have to accept that sometimes I’m going to be with other men too, when I need to.”

  “And when you want to,” he said, as a statement of fact rather than a judgment.

  My shoulders came up a bit. “Just because I’ve enjoyed some of those encounters—”

  “It’s all right,” Bash said. He pressed a kiss to the corner of my jaw that sparked desire all through my body. “I’m not saying the jealousy is gone, but I don’t know if I’d really want you to restrict yourself like that. I like the energy you get when you’ve been ‘enjoying’ yourself with other people. And I’ll definitely like knowing that no matter who you play around with, it can be me you come back to, every time. So, if you get the urge to, say, have a last hurrah with the Londoners before we leave them in our dust, just promise me you’ll milk them for everything they’re worth.” He smirked at me.

  I grinned back at him. “That’s a promise I have no trouble making.”

  I couldn’t have asked for more than what he’d offered in his response. I leaned into him, inhaling the tang of his natural scent. Wanting to taste him. Wanting to throw the principles I’d decided on out the window and explore every inch of his body at my leisure.

  But was that an urge born from honest attraction, or an impulse to tie him to me, to lock down his devotion and appease my sense of control? I wasn’t sure I could tell the difference, so I held myself back.

  Bash was obviously thinking along similar lines. “When you say we’ll take it slow, how slow is ‘slow’?”

  I wet my lips and looked at his. “Well, I’m not saying we should become monks.”

  I raised my head and he lowered his at the same time. He claimed my mouth with a firm certainty, as if he knew exactly how I’d want to be kissed even though we barely had before this moment.

  He did know, though. The heat of his lips flooded me from head to toe, and I shifted even closer, my hand coming to rest on his bare abs.

  Bash let out a faint groan, his arm tightening around me. He deepened the kiss until his tongue twined with mine, and a bolt of lust shot to my core. My self-control started to fray.

  I eased away from him, breathless. “Maybe we should put a pin in it for now.”

  Bash laughed, his fingers stroking over my side. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  I stiffened automatically. Bash’s hand stilled, and he pulled back far enough to meet my eyes. “I didn’t mean that literally, Mori.”

  I let out a breath. “No, but you could have. There’s a pretty good chance that’s true.”

  “Hey.” He touched the side of my face, a
ll his attention focused on me. “I’m fine with that. I’ve been tempting death my whole life. I’d sure as hell rather it happened at your side, taking on your monsters, than in the army or doing shitty jobs for the random assholes I worked for before you. I’m where I want to be.”

  “Okay.” I believed him, even if the idea of my mission leading him to his death made my stomach clench. I rubbed my mouth. “We’re supposed to meet with Sherlock and the others soon. I should shower and get changed into clothes that aren’t clearly slept in, or they’ll think I’m losing my touch.”

  Bash snorted and released my waist. I couldn’t help turning to plant one more kiss on him. It went on a little longer than I’d been planning before I managed to wrench myself away. I flashed him another grin and hopped off the bed.

  “It’s going to be cold showers around here,” he muttered to himself as I slipped out the door, but it was the happiest muttering I’d ever heard.

  Our hotel had a few meeting rooms that could be reserved for private use. The trio arrived right on schedule from the place where they were staying down the street. Sherlock strode right in with a thump of his crutch and a dip of his head in acknowledgment, John and Garrett trailing behind him. We sat around the boardroom-sized table, Bash and me on one side and the three of them on the other.

  I leaned back in my chair with a faint creak. “On my side of things, I’m basically ready to go. I’ve planned a route through the cave system, and I have the gear I need. All we need to figure out is how you’re going to put your raid into motion.”

  “I’m still not entirely sure why you feel you can take on this entire cult group by yourself, but we’ll need extensive help,” Sherlock said.

  “Oh, you’re going to help me,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I can make it to their stash, but getting off the mountain unscathed would be trickier. That’s why I need to be sure you’ll come storming into the place not too long after I get there.”

  “Also,” Bash said, “you didn’t even make it halfway up that mountain last time without ending up in a cast.”

  “It’s a brace,” Sherlock said tartly. “Only a sprain.”

  “My point stands.”

  “Unless I’ve read the situation wrong, you’re the muscle here, not the brains. Perhaps you should leave the discussion to the rest of us.”

  Bash shifted forward in his seat, and I cleared my throat. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that Bash very considerately did not shoot you the other day when you were threatening me at gun point. So maybe we could keep this conversation considerate as well?”

  Sherlock looked a tad chagrinned. “Yes. Well. More to the matter at hand, why should you go ahead of us at all? Why not arrive as part of the raid? I’m sure whatever force we can assemble would overlook the lifting of a small item or two.”

  “Unless there’s something else you have planned before we get there,” Garrett put in, his gaze suspicious but his tone more curious, as if he couldn’t help wondering how I might pull the rug out from under them yet again.

  “No,” I said honestly. “All I want to do is grab my cure and get the hell out. But I’ll be helping you too on my way up. I’ll provide a little distraction, get them stirred up about that, and then it’ll be easier for you to swarm the place… without any more turned ankles.”

  “You could do that just as easily with us,” Sherlock said.

  “No, I couldn’t. I know how to get past their warning systems. I’m the only one who can get close enough to cause enough chaos to open the way.”

  “You could share those strategies with the rest of us.”

  I gave Sherlock a firm look. “Sorry. I can’t do that either. There are certain things that can’t be taught.” Like the power of a gold cuff to hide one’s presence from the shrouded folk he’d scoff at the very idea of.

  His eyebrows jumped up. “I’d expect you know by now that I can pick up nearly—”

  John knuckled his arm. “Sherlock, we know that Jemma has a lot more experience with the cult than we do. If she thinks this approach will be safest for all of us, I say we listen. I don’t think she protected us four days ago just to get us killed now.”

  “That might make a very convenient distraction,” Garrett remarked.

  I glowered at him, but Sherlock’s expression softened a little as he looked at John. “Perhaps we should work out the rest of the plan and see if it hangs together before drawing judgments,” he allowed.

  John smiled, lighting up the way he always did when Sherlock showed how much he valued his opinion. Watching them, a flutter passed through my chest, like an echo of the longing that had brought me to Bash’s bed last night.

  They’d developed the same understanding and trust that Bash and I had between us, as clear as anything. It really was a shame that Sherlock couldn’t seem to wrap his head around seeing anything more than platonic affection from his friend. Would that friction end up breaking their bond apart the same way I’d been worried Bash and I might fall out?

  It wasn’t my concern, not really. I drew my attention back to our strategizing.

  “I know you don’t approve of my usual methods,” I said, “but I’d like to see you take down those psychopaths as much as you would, so we really do have the same goal here. If you’ve changed your mind about believing that, then I’ll figure out something on my own. The door’s right there.” I motioned to it.

  “No, no,” Sherlock said briskly, as if he could speak for all three of them. “Let’s carry on.”

  Garrett tapped the edge of the table. “We don’t have the legal authority to do anything about these people anyway, do we? If the idea is to shut down whatever operations they have running and make sure they don’t hurt any more kids or animals, we need to get the local police involved.”

  “Indeed.” Sherlock pulled a slight grimace. “I have less faith in them than your Scotland Yard colleagues back home, Garrett, but I don’t see how that can be helped.”

  “They’ve ignored the situation for years—maybe decades,” John pointed out. “They brushed off that boy’s death as an accident.”

  “And we don’t have any proof of more recent crimes.”

  I rested my hands on my stomach, interlacing my fingers. “We don’t need a real crime, do we? We just need a story to get them riled up—or at least feeling like they have to act like they are.”

  The consulting detective hummed to himself. “That’s true. I do have a little sway here. We could appeal to the General Police Directorate. If we convinced them that international relations were at stake rather than merely the concerns of a handful of farmers and countryfolk, that should stir them.”

  “I’m not going to make up an official case,” Garret said. “That could come back to bite me too easily.”

  “Of course not. Don’t worry yourself about crossing those lines. We can make it a private matter. It’s simple enough. What innocent British citizen might venture up the mountain?”

  Sherlock glanced around looking for suggestions like a professor testing his class.

  “A tourist?” John said. “There are always adventurous types looking to go off the beaten track.”

  “Exactly my thought. This imaginary tourist—we’ll make her a woman, that always draws more sympathy, no offense meant to present company—”

  “None taken,” I said with amusement.

  “—she mentioned to relatives back home that she was going to attempt a climb of this mountain, and then they never heard from her again.” Sherlock spread his hands. “Not having any contacts in the area, they turned to me for my services. And during my investigations here, I discovered a small hidden community engaged in illegal dealings who almost certainly did away with the young lady.”

  Garrett nodded. “That hangs together pretty well. They might not be too motivated by the concerns of a couple of independent detectives, though.” He paused, and a sly glint lit in his dark eyes. “John, it is the sort of case you might decide to write about. You cou
ld tell them you’re planning on publishing an account.”

  “That does sound plausible,” John said with a grin. “I’ll make sure to emphasize how many people enjoy those accounts, to rub it in that their response will be scrutinized by the public eye.”

  Sherlock snapped his fingers. “Perfect. We’ll hit two points of pressure at once. The potential shame of being revealed to have ignored horrific criminal activity going on under their noses, and the ego stroking of being asked for assistance where my means are not enough. Law enforcement officials are so often guided by pride.”

  I suppressed a smile, and Garrett caught my eye with a glance of conspiratorial exasperation. As if Sherlock wasn’t guided equally well by a good ego-stroking.

  “That’s all very impressive,” I said, “but I have to think the Police Directorate has enough common sense to look into your missing persons case before sending a SWAT team up the mountain. Give me the rest of the day, and I’ll have a nice trail of online breadcrumbs for you. Articles, a family website asking for help, social media presence for your supposed tourist. We’ll want this to look authentic.”

  “Right,” John said. “You can do that?”

  I smirked at him. “I convinced you all that a police officer from Friesing named Jemma Moriarty existed, didn’t I?”

  Next to me, Bash chuckled.

  “Fair,” Sherlock said. “Fair enough.” He looked as though he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified by my professed efficiency. “It would be good to have all our bases covered.”

  “It sounds like we have a plan, then. You’ll find plenty of evidence to place charges once you’re in there.” Since the cult of the shrouded folk avoided contact with outsiders, I knew from past experience that they didn’t take all that much care to hide their activities inside the settlements.

  The trio might have been a little unsettled, but as my gaze slid around the table, an air of triumph came over the room. They worked well together—I’d seen that right in front of me many times now—and I worked well with them, didn’t I? Putting our minds and our resources together, we were finding a way to unseat the commune so much faster than I could have without them.