by Sandy James
After taking a bite of the bagel, she chewed as she flipped on her computer. She needed to talk to Rebecca. Munching her breakfast and sipping her coffee as the system booted up, she waited to see if any of the other Amazons were hanging around their own computers.
A couple of clicks of the mouse brought up the screen Gina liked to call “The Brady Bunch.” Johann had set up the Amazons’ computers so the picture was divided into four sections. If any of the women were online, her picture would appear in one of the squares. Her own face stared back at her, but the other three squares remained empty. She decided to finish her breakfast and wait for a few minutes to see if any of her sisters would appear.
Rebecca’s face popped up just as Megan finished the banana and the last of the coffee. “Megan! How are you, sis?”
“Rebs, I’m so glad to see you. I need some help.”
“Help? A demon? A demigod?” Rebecca sounded like a compulsive shopper ready for Black Friday. She pulled her blond hair into a ponytail and stared intently at the camera. “Do I need to have Rhiannon pop me to Chicago? I’m ready to get back into the fray. I guess I’d better breastfeed Darian first. Hate to leak milk while I’m killing a demon.”
“No, no. Nothing like that. You won’t have to leave your kids. It’s more—um—personal.”
A smile reached Rebecca’s warm brown eyes. “Personal, huh? Is Johann driving you crazy already? Artair told me he’d be amazed if you two spent more than an hour together without killing each other.”
“Yeah, well… We’re both still alive. And, yes, he’s driving me crazy, but not the way you think.” Now that she was talking to her Guardian, Megan was suddenly afraid to tell the whole embarrassing truth. Saying it aloud made it too real, too intense. What if Rebecca had to tell Rhiannon about her entirely adolescent infatuation?
“It’s okay,” Rebecca said. “I know. God, you’ve all but come out and said it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve known for a while. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Known? Known what?”
“C’mon, sis. Who do you think you’re talking to? You’ve had a thing for the guy since… Well, since back in that warehouse in Jersey. He saved your life, after all. Did you think I wouldn’t know how you felt? Now that he’s living there with you, I figured sparks would be flying.” Her laughter was always so warm. “If you’ll excuse the pun.” Rebecca leaned into the camera. “Johann is why you called, isn’t he?”
“You can’t tell anyone. He doesn’t have a clue how I feel. He’d be…embarrassed. It’s only a stupid crush anyway.” Feeling entirely ridiculous, Megan tried to turn the topic. “Actually, I need advice on something else.”
“How can I help?”
“I have to go to a big reception tonight with movie stars and models. Freya brought me this gorgeous cocktail dress, but… God, Rebs. I’ll look stupid in it. I’ve never been to a place this fancy. I don’t know how to look like I belong with rich people and celebrities. What kind of shoes do I get? I don’t have a clue what to do with my hair. Do I wear it up or down?”
“This I can help with. Fancy affair, huh?”
Megan nodded.
“You know what would be best? Find a day spa. Go have them put that gorgeous red hair of yours into some updo. Get your nails done. Have a pedicure. Let them do your makeup so it’s extra special. Is Johann taking you?” She shook her head and scoffed at her own question. “Duh. Of course he is. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so rattled.”
“Who’s rattled?” a voice suddenly asked. Gina’s face popped up in the third square.
“Megan,” Rebecca replied. “She’s got a date tonight.”
“Woo hoo.” Gina tousled her short, brown hair and yawned as though she’d just awakened. Of course Gina was in California. Since demons weren’t particularly considerate of schedules, Amazons tended to keep late hours. She probably was just waking up. “A hot date?”
“Who’s got a hot date?” Sarita’s beautifully exotic image filled the last square.
Megan had always considered the Indian the prettiest of the Amazons. No matter the time of day, the woman’s face and hair were perfection.
“The gang’s all here,” Rebecca said. “So, Amazons, tell your Guardian how the hell you are. Sound off! Air?”
Gina laughed. “Air is great. I’m tracking a minor demig out here who’s got a thing for Oscar-winning actresses. I should have him soon. I’m working with Rhonda Rhodes. She’s a nice lady, but I still can’t believe she won an Oscar. And that movie was…” She faked a shiver.
“Gina,” Rebecca scolded. “Stop digressing.”
“Sorry. He’s been practically stalking her. She hired me as a bodyguard. I’ll get him soon. Promise.”
Rebecca nodded. “Good. Water?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sarita replied with a saucy smirk and a salute. “Water just took care of that cult forming in El Paso. Those idiots wanted to worship some stupid ahuizotl who convinced them all he was a god.”
“What the hell’s an ahuizotl?” Gina asked.
“Don’t feel bad. I had to look it up too. It’s half monkey, half dog. Annoyingly smelly things, but smarter than most demons. There are only a few left, and they’re water creatures. My domain.” Sarita grinned. “I gave him a sound thrashing, dispersed his followers and sent him back to Mexico.”
“Excellent. Fire?”
Megan drew her lips into a grim line. The Amazons were supposed to share everything, to work together. They were sister warriors, but she didn’t want to tell Sarita and Gina about the feelings she had for Johann. While she was comfortable talking about personal matters with Rebecca, she wouldn’t humiliate herself by telling her other sisters she had a “thing” for the Sentinel—especially since he was the only man on the planet she wasn’t allowed to touch.
She focused on the more obvious problem. “I’m not sure exactly what I’m dealing with yet, but Maksim Popov’s getting some magical backing. There are four dead girls here who were at his concerts right before they disappeared.”
“Maksim Popov?” Gina asked. “You mean the singer, right? The tree-hugger?”
“Tree-hugger?” Megan hadn’t heard Popov referred to as anything other than a singer.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Gina replied. “He hangs out with the ‘green’ crowd here in Hollywood. He was at a weekday party I had to guard Rhonda at about a week ago. Aren’t his songs about the environment? Global warming? Recycling? The guy’s a tree-hugger.”
“How old were the girls?” Sarita asked.
“Three were sixteen. One was seventeen. All blondes,” Megan said.
“Do you need backup?” Rebecca asked.
Megan shook her head. “I’ve got the Sentinel here.” Shit. She realized she’d opened up a can of worms when all of her sisters started grinning. “He’s here to help me find out what happened to the girls.”
“Right,” Gina said in a long, drawn-out fashion.
Sarita simply sat there grinning.
Rebecca looked contemplative for a moment. “Sarita? Gina? Head on out, ladies. Let me talk to Megan alone for a moment. Please.”
“Later,” Gina said. “Stay safe, everyone.” Her face disappeared.
“Call me if you need me,” Sarita said before her square went black.
“Thank you, Rebs.”
“Not a problem. Do you want to talk?” The concern in her voice felt like a hug.
Megan sighed, unsure of what to say. “I do, and I don’t. It’s just…hard to talk about. Look, I’m being an idiot. I’ll take your advice and go get my hair and makeup done, but not to impress Joeman. I need to get Maksim Popov’s attention.”
“I have no doubt you’ll be able to do that. But you need to stop and think about what you really want from Johann.”
“You’re falling for him. Actually, I think you already fell a lot harder than you’re willing to admit.”
Megan couldn’t even fabricate a denial in her own mind.
“Just be careful,” Rebecca said, leaning closer to the camera. “Rhiannon will be mighty pissed if she loses another Sentinel to another Amazon.”
“Freya came to see me last night,” Megan admitted, wishing she had another cup of coffee to nurse. Or better yet, a cigarette. She reached for the nicotine gum, realized the blister pack was empty and groaned. This conversation was too damned uncomfortable without chemical diversion.
“What did she want?”
“Evidently, she wants me with Johann. Freya all but told me to sleep with the guy.”
Rebecca frowned. “I don’t like it. This isn’t about you and Johann. Freya and Rhiannon are playing their own games. I don’t want you caught in the middle when those two throw down. And, trust me, they will. Artair said things have been brewing between them for a good, long while.”
“I can’t keep them from fighting.”
“No, but you can keep them from fighting about you. Just be careful. Okay? I’m sure Johann will protect you. He handles the goddesses well. Even Artair says so.”
Trying to take heart in Rebecca’s pronouncement, Megan nodded. “But you’re making one awfully big assumption.”
Rebecca arched an eyebrow.
“You’re assuming he wants anything to do with me.”
* * *
Johann checked his watch again. Megan wasn’t late. Not yet. But his compulsive need to be early always made him think whoever was joining him was tardy. And there was, of course, her habit of keeping him waiting.
Would she show up?
Yes, she would. She was a dedicated Amazon, and she was vested in finding Ashley Douglass’s killer. But what would she wear? Khakis? Camo? Jeans?
Didn’t matter. She would outshine any of the ladies. Didn’t matter if she wore something she’d grabbed from a Salvation Army thrift store.
He adjusted a cufflink and took a good long look around. The museum was gorgeous. Flowing marble banisters. Polished tile floors. Ceilings as high as the sky. The tables were set with starched ivory linens, shiny silverware and napkins fanned and standing in crystal wine glasses. A small string orchestra played on the balcony, adding a more formal ambiance. Candlelight bathed the room. People garbed in designer tuxedoes and colorful, sparkling cocktail dresses mingled around the bar and appetizer tables. Plus, there was the artwork. If only he had time to simply explore…
How long had it been since he been able to do anything as relaxing as enjoying an art museum? First he’d been in school. Followed by the Army. And then his family had been in the accident.
He brushed aside the horrible memories. Why relive the tragic event that had claimed all the people he loved and spawned a Sentinel? At least swearing his fealty to Rhiannon had bought back Janelle, and he knew the goddess would keep his sister safe.
Megan walked through the arched entrance, and every other thought in his head scattered, leaving nothing but her.
Fire. Sensual, hypnotic, consuming fire.
Her gorgeous, flaming hair was piled high on her head. Small tendrils curled away from the intricate coiffure to rest against her ears and her slender neck. She was wearing makeup for the first time he could remember. Glitter brushed her eyelids, cheeks and shoulders. Teardrop ruby earrings hung from her earlobes.
The strapless dress hugged every curve from her full breasts to that slim waist and those rounded hips. Red-and-white beads winked in the candlelight. How could she possibly walk in that tight skirt, let alone dance—as he was hoping she’d want to? Damn, even her feet were pretty in those impossibly high-heeled silver sandals. Her toenails were painted to match her dress. Every subtle movement sent a shimmer of light racing over her body. He’d never seen a woman so beautiful. Pride swelled his chest.
He was her Sentinel.
And she was his Fire.
Johann wanted this woman—this incredible woman—to belong to him in every way possible. Friend. Companion. Lover.
He was wishing for the impossible. Sentinels didn’t fall in love. Neither did Amazons. All they were allowed were dalliances—one-night stands with people who didn’t matter. The patron goddesses had gifted them all with immunity to disease and taken away the Amazons’ ability to reproduce. It prevented them from having the liability of a family keeping the warriors from doing their jobs.
The sexual freedom they were given seemed a curse, not a gift, and he’d yet to allow himself to sleep with some woman simply for a physical release. He had to feel something for a woman before he’d take her to bed. She had to matter to him.
And Megan Feurer mattered. She mattered to her Sentinel more than he ever thought possible.
What in the hell was wrong with him? He was a Sentinel. She was an Amazon. Yet He couldn’t distance himself. He couldn’t concentrate on his work. He was amazed he wasn’t wiping drool from his chin. For the first time in years, he felt like Johann Herrmann—like a flesh-and-blood man. Not a soldier. Not a technical whiz. Not a Sentinel. He felt like a man who was entirely infatuated with a beautiful woman.
But he wasn’t just a man.
And Megan wasn’t just a woman.
Then he noticed the stares of the other men in the ballroom. He also noticed the slit in the skirt running from the floor up to the top of Megan’s shapely thigh, hinting at the heaven that lay beyond.
So that’s how she can walk.
A wave of possessiveness washed over him. Those men had no right to stare at her with so much open lust, to gawk at her breasts and legs.
He strode toward her, unbuttoning his jacket. Her face lit with a smile. She’d seen him.
“You can’t wear that,” Johann scolded when he was near enough he didn’t have to shout. But, damn, he was close to yelling at her anyway.
“Excuse me?” Megan smoothed her hands down her hips, drawing his eyes. He licked his lips before pulling an arm out of his jacket. “Why can’t I wear this dress?”
“It’s—it’s—too tight.”
Her indignant gasp hit his chest like a blow. “You think I look fat?”
“I didn’t mean… I meant to say… Hell, Megan. There isn’t a guy here who can take his eyes off you.”
“Because the dress is too tight.” Her eyes betrayed her hurt. “Do I look that bad?”
“Yes, the dress is too…” She had him so flustered, he hadn’t been able to think clearly. He’d simply parroted her words back at her. Then her meaning registered. “Bad? You think you look bad?” After shrugging out of his jacket, Johann held it out to her. “Here. Wear this.”
“I do look that bad. Otherwise you wouldn’t be trying to cover me up.”
He opened the jacket, hoping she’d thread her arms through the sleeves. As soon as she did, he’d pull it closed and make her wear it the rest of the night. “You look like a Victoria’s Secret model. You need to cover up.”
“But that’s the effect I wanted.” Megan pushed his hands back. “If I’m attracting attention, I’m not about to wear your tux and spoil it.”
He growled as he shoved his arms back into the sleeves and donned the jacket. “Well, I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like what?”
“Every guy here staring at you like you’re—you’re—”
“Like I’m what?” If her impish grin served as indication, she was unmistakably enjoying his flustered response.
“Like you’re available.”
“I am. I’m supposed to get Maksim Popov’s attention, remember?”
He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “I know, but… Hell, Megan.”
�
�That’s it? Just ‘Hell, Megan’?” Her grin was intoxicating. “If you can’t do better than that, Joeman, you need to head back to Avalon and get some pointers from Artair.” She slinked next to him and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “How about buying a girl a drink?”
Johann patted her hand. Touching her soothed him. Every man in the room might be gawking at her, but she was with him. That made all the difference in the world.
He was about to ask her what she’d like to drink when the noise of the crowd dwindled. One by one, voices quieted until silence fell over the room. Everyone in the ballroom had turned to face the entrance.
Maksim Popov had arrived.
Chapter Eight
Megan sized up her prey.
Maksim Popov was accompanied by two beautiful women. To his left stood a leggy blonde wearing a silver, sequined minidress that left little to the imagination. To his right, an exotic woman with skin the color of café au lait was dressed in a gold silk cocktail dress. Each clung to his arm, smiling for the cameras repeatedly popping flashes in their direction.
“He doesn’t have trouble finding company.” Johann inclined his head to the entourage now standing in the middle of the foyer.
“Recognize them?” Megan asked.
“The women?”
She nodded.
“Nope.”
“One’s the new spokesmodel for Calvin Klein. The other’s the winner of that modeling reality show. They make great eye candy.”
“They’re not nearly as pretty as—”
Megan turned to stare at him. “As who?”
His face set in a scowl, which meant he was never going to answer. He’d told her she looked like a model. Of course he’d started out by calling her fat, so it had taken a moment to figure out what he really meant. Yet she’d seen the appreciation in his eyes. The smoldering stare he gave her had sent fire to her gut.
Could he possibly want her as much as she wanted him?
Dressed entirely in black, including a linen shirt with a sexy banded collar and no tie, Johann could have been a male model who’d shown up to get his weekly photo op for People magazine. The tux made her too aware of how broad his shoulders were, how slim his waist and hips were. She was glad he wore a jacket because one glimpse of his gorgeous ass in those pants would be her undoing. Damn it if her focus wasn’t on her Sentinel instead of her target.
