White Knight

by Nicole Flockton

  At her side sat a dashing knight, though he didn’t wear his armor but instead dressed in a simple tunic of dark brown. Her childhood hero had grown into a man who shouldered great responsibility—vanquishing evil and the realizing of Camelot. But with her he’d always been just Arthur and not the king. She could still hear his deep voice, hear his rumbling laugh.

  In the haze of her grief after she’d lost him and her father and discovered her inability to die, she’d almost forgotten those stolen joy-filled moments when he’d seek her out to unburden his heart. She’d always been able to make him laugh.

  “Sasha?”

  A different deep voice.

  Derek Arthur. Nearly the same name as the man she was willing to die to see again.

  She dropped her gaze to the crisp tablecloth where their hands remained clasped, his warm under hers. She chose her words with care. “My friend said the men who served with him had answered a calling to be warriors. For him to take responsibility for their deaths denied them the honor of their choice. He could regret their deaths, miss his friends. But he also had to respect the calling they’d chosen to answer.”

  Derek nodded slowly, his eyes unfocused. “Thank you for sharing. I hadn’t really thought of it like that. He was a smart man.”

  A long silence settled between them, but warm, like a comfy blanket, rather than awkward. “You remind me of him sometimes,” she murmured.

  Derek cocked his head. “So he was a charming and handsome devil, highly intelligent, and—”

  “Modest, too.” She softened the words with a wink.

  Derek chuckled, then sobered. “You loved him very much. Didn’t you?”

  “I did.” Still do. With the exception of the crazy desire the man seated across the table stirred in her, no other man had ever touched her body, heart, or soul the way Arthur had.

  “Did he die? Your soldier?”

  Sasha pulled her hand back, refusing to allow herself to miss the warmth, and smoothed down the black slacks she’d decided to wear this morning.

  “Yes.”

  “And do you still admire his choice to answer the call?”

  Had anyone else asked her that question, she would’ve walked out. But the intent behind his words was gentle. A shared pain, perhaps?

  “I honor his choices, yes. I was even proud of his position, leading warriors like himself into battle, always fighting for a greater cause. But he didn’t die in battle or fighting a great evil.”

  Derek waited. Patiently. Expectantly. Focused on her in a way that managed to make her feel like the only person in the world.

  “He was betrayed by one of his men and the woman he thought he loved. And murdered by a witch.”

  Silence fell between them; then Derek burst out laughing. Sasha’s shoulders slumped. She should’ve expected the reaction. However, after the closeness that had begun to develop between them, a bubble of hope that he would believe her had formed.

  Derek was nothing like her Arthur, and his rejection, however unintended, only reenergized her resolve to steal the stone. Once she had it, she could return to a man who was a real knight.

  Her knight.

  Chapter 5

  Murdered by a witch.

  Derek went through the motions of his kata, arms arcing in the air followed by a couple of high kicks, muscle memory ensuring he flowed from one action to the next seamlessly.

  Murdered by a witch.

  What could you say to a woman who stated her one true love had been murdered? By a witch, no less. Sorry for your loss?

  It would be hypocritical of him to say that, considering he’d killed more than one man during his deployment. But what else could he say? Witches don’t exist. Did you mean bitch?

  Then again, electricity went haywire around him. Who was he to say what could or couldn’t exist? Instead he’d laughed and regretted it the instant he saw the animation fade from Sasha’s face as she shut down on him. He’d called for the bill, and they’d gone their separate ways.

  He should call her to apologize.

  He punched a little harder through a motion to bat away the darts of jealousy piercing his body at the thought of Sasha loving someone else so deeply. Irrational thoughts considering he’d known her for only two weeks. Sure, they’d shared a kiss and he’d been attracted to her the moment she’d walked into the pub. His dick hardened as if Sasha were standing naked in front of him now. How ridiculous was it to want someone so keenly after one kiss? How was this even possible?

  Besides, her reciprocating his desire came under the heading of not bloody likely. Not after the way she spoke about her warrior, the heartache plain in every word. She’d just buried this guy, and Derek knew all about the pain of fresh loss.

  Plus, he should have asked about this “witch” she referred to. Of course, she may not have been talking in the literal sense of witches, as in the ones who cast spells and rode brooms, but more in a non-literal way, like the woman was a witch because she was mean and, obviously, a killer.

  He stumbled as he executed a roundabout kick poorly and face-planted the mat beneath his feet. Bursts of pain fanned out from his nose through his cheekbones. Swirling visions of white radiated behind his closed eyelids.

  Thank God he was alone in the solo room at the dojo. He could just hear the ribbing he’d get from the other guys if he’d fucked up a simple move like this in the main training room.

  Rolling to his back, he drew in deep, cleansing breaths, each exhalation taking away the pain.

  The shrill sound of his phone broke through his mini-meditation. Groaning, he got up and walked over to his backpack. He reached into the inner pocket and pulled out the device.

  “Lance? What’s up?”

  “We need you at the office. Now.”

  No hi, how are you? Typical. Lance didn’t seem the type to waste words. He got straight to the point, his voice neutral but with an underlying urgency. Still, needing him at the office on the weekend didn’t bode well for Derek.

  “What’s happened?” he asked as he slung the backpack over his shoulder and strode out of the dojo.

  “A security issue I’d rather not discuss over the phone. How soon can you be here?”

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “See you then.”

  Lance disconnected the call before Derek had a chance to respond. Turning up at the office in his karate uniform may not be professional, but he had no time to go home to shower and change.

  He unlocked his late model Land Rover and threw his backpack in the back. If traffic was on his side, he should get to the Chevalier offices in ten minutes.

  Derek made it in seven, Saturday traffic was light for a change. The tires screeched on the concrete surface of the underground car park as he pulled into his allocated bay. A quick reconnaissance of the surrounding area showed another five cars in the immediate area—all of them belonging to the men who owned the company, based on the reserved spots they’d taken. Either two of the seven owners were missing the meeting or they’d travelled with someone.

  This can’t be good. Something major must have happened. What that something was, he would find out only when he got his arse out of the car and up to the executive floors.

  As he opened the glass doors leading to the lifts, a loud roar reverberated around the car park. In seconds, a red Ducati motorbike pulled into a vacant bay.

  Who at Chevalier’s rode such a powerful machine? It couldn’t be one of the owners, as all seven men were little people and the rider, while slender, was far from little. He would place a bet the owner of the bike was, in fact, female.

  Lingering wouldn’t be a good idea—not with an urgent meeting about to happen upstairs. But if this person had also been summoned, it made sense to hold the lift. Waiting had nothing to do with finding a woman on a motorcycle sexy as hell, and being a tad curious as to her identity.

  Silence descended around the concrete cavern as she shut off the motor. Definitely female. With graceful movemen
ts, the rider swung her leg over to climb off, simultaneously removing her helmet.

  Derek’s heart rate quickened as Sasha’s face emerged, her hair tumbling in a long braid over her shoulder.

  Shit. The woman’s a badass biker chick. Didn’t see that coming.

  Without conscious thought, he released his hold on the door and sauntered over, the urgency to get to the executive floors replaced by the need to speak to her.

  “Nice bike,” he indicated with a wave as he got within touching distance of her. The urge to tell her how sexy she looked in her bright red leathers teetered on the tip of his tongue. They molded her every curve. What would he find if he lowered the zipper? What did she wear underneath? “A Monster 821, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Sasha leveled a look at him, and for a moment, he suspected she could read his mind. Or was she shocked that he knew the make of the bike she rode? He might not own one, but he’d seen the commercials. How could a young, single woman living in London afford this type of bike? Maybe master gem cutters were paid well.

  “Yes.” Her short response and curt tone could’ve frozen the nuts on the bike. “What are you doing here?”

  Her ice queen routine shouldn’t surprise him, not after their dinner the previous evening, and his laughter at her declaration.

  Why was she here anyway? He’d been summoned due to a security issue. He didn’t need her as cover on the weekend.

  But the time to speculate was over. He needed to get upstairs before his boss kicked his arse. Lance might be small in stature, but Derek would bet solid muscle hid under the man’s suave suits. The boss was one man you didn’t cross.

  “I got called in. Why are you here?”

  “Me, too, and I have no idea why. I suggest we go in. Rumor has it Lance doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Nice outfit, by the way.”

  Sasha brushed past him. Her light floral scent unfurled its way around him, teasing him into imagining fields of wildflowers where he and Sasha lay on a carpet of lush green grass, fingertips touching, accompanied by the sound of water bubbling over rocks. He angled his body away from her in an attempt to his hide his growing hard-on. How could a fragrance be sweet and sexy at the same time?

  Derek hauled his mind out of the unwanted fantasy. He flicked the loose sleeve of his jacket back and spied the time.

  “Shit.”

  “Come on, Sir Galahad. Let’s go.”

  Icy fingers of foreboding crept slowly up his spine. This was the second time she’d called him by that name. Hell, he’d prefer her to call him Prince Charming as his army buddies had, rather than any reference to King Arthur and his not-so-knightly knights.

  Derek walked into the lift Sasha held open for him. The floor discs illuminated on and off a couple of times before—a sigh of relief—remaining unlit.

  Get it together.

  The doors slid shut, Sasha pressed the floor button, and he concentrated on his breathing, centering his chi as he had this morning while doing his kata.

  “Don’t you think it’s weird the way the lights keep flickering and even going out around you? Does that happen a lot?” Oh, how innocent those questions sounded.

  Derek trained his vision on Sasha. In these close confines, he had no place to escape to avoid answering them. Why had it taken her this long to ask? No way in hell did he plan to tell her anything about an ability he didn’t understand. She wouldn’t believe him anyway. Then again . . .

  He shrugged his shoulder negligently. “Faulty light globes, I guess.”

  “Maybe,” Sasha murmured. “Though we never had any issues before you arrived. Besides, it happened at the pub too.”

  Okay, doors, now would be a great time for you to open.

  Between her floral scent lingering in the air, the subtle smell of leather, and his body yelling at him to pull her close, forming a coherent answer to her questions was nigh on impossible.

  Fortunately, his prayer was answered, and the doors opened, saving him. They were greeted with the sight of Lance Chevalier, arms crossed and a frown marring his features.

  Yep, he was pissed.

  Hopefully, Lance’s annoyance was due to him being late and not because of the problem that had brought them all to the office on a Saturday afternoon.

  “Sorry I’m late, Lance.”

  The man glanced between him and Sasha, no doubt trying to decide whether to reprimand them or ask him why he was dressed this way. If they knew Sasha rode a bike, seeing her in leathers wouldn’t be a surprise. His turning up in a karate gi, however, wasn’t the most professional thing to do.

  Derek didn’t apologize. To anyone.

  “Follow me, both of you,” Lance commanded. The man might be short in stature, but he demanded the respect his position afforded him. A security breach, or whatever the issue, wasn’t going to sit well with Lance.

  Fuck, he needed this job. Everything depended on him succeeding in finding who was stealing from Chevaliers. A security issue so early in his contract was not the best impression to give.

  The long walk down the carpeted hallway toward the boardroom felt like a royal procession. Everything in him fought the need to be in front. He’d always taken the lead when he and his troop had been out on patrol. He’d fallen into the leadership role naturally. It was why he’d chosen to be his own boss.

  So naturally this order grated on his already tense nerves. If he weren’t careful, he’d likely burn out every electrical current in the building. That would be extremely difficult to explain away with a must be faulty globes excuse.

  The door to the boardroom stood open, and the six other men who made up Chevalier Jewels sat around the table. Yep, a couple of the owners had carpooled. He’d met them all throughout the two weeks he’d been working in the office. But only three nodded at his arrival now: Haden, Val, and Waine. The others frowned.

  Shit, this really wasn’t going to be a good meeting. A recessed light blanked into darkness. He rolled his shoulders.

  “Take a seat.” Lance pointed to the available leather chairs.

  Great. If he sat next to Sasha, keeping himself under control was going to be difficult.

  “Thanks, but I’ll stand,” he commented as he placed his backpack on the ground and leaned against the wall at the back of the room.

  “I’d prefer you take a seat, Derek. I don’t want to be yelling with you standing at the back of the room.”

  Irritation bristled along his arms. Never had he been chastised for deciding to stand instead of sit. Unfortunately, no matter how aggravating he found it, he had to kowtow to their requests. The owners of Chevalier were his clients.

  He inclined his head briefly before taking a seat next to Sasha. A small smile played about her plump red lips. God, how he wanted to kiss that smug smirk off her face.

  He leaned forward, his hands loosely clasped on the round glass-topped table. “What’s going on, Lance?”

  “We had a break-in overnight.”

  Derek pushed back from the table and retrieved his backpack. “You had a break-in?” he repeated as he extracted his tablet, his heart rate kicking up a notch. “Impossible. I would’ve been alerted if there’d been a breach.”

  He sat down again and woke up his device. With a quick tap on the screen, he opened the relevant folder for Chevalier Jewels and the security systems he’d installed.

  Nothing.

  Not one goddamn alert.

  This is not good.

  Sweat beaded on his upper lip. “There has to be a mistake. Was something stolen? My software shows no breaches in the security measures I installed.”

  “There is no mistake, Mr. Arthur. Your security equipment must be faulty, because I assure you, we lost a valuable stone.”

  “What about your primary system? Did it pick up anything?”

  “No.”

  Derek shook his head and clenched his fists. This didn’t make sense. How could anything be stolen without anyone triggering the motion detectors or being caught by a camera? His
equipment was state of the art. It would’ve picked up a stone being stolen. This was not how this job should be going. With the measures he’d put in, a fly landing on a sensor would trigger an alert.

  He would be having words with the supplier of his equipment. No way could anyone get close to the vault without being picked up. “Where was it stolen?”

  “From the vaults located one level down.”

  “The vaults!” With another couple of taps, Derek pulled up the surveillance footage. Had someone hacked his system and changed the feed? No, his firewall was impenetrable.

  Fuck, how the hell am I going to explain this?

  Again, no shadow showed on his screen. No one stood in front of the vault fiddling with the numeric pad or massive door. He switched to the current camera view and zoomed in. The solid steel door remained intact, displaying no signs of forced entry.

  “Are you sure the stone was in the vault? All my footage shows no one near it or any damage to indicate forced entry. If the code had been entered, a record of it would’ve shown up as well, and the last time the door was unlocked was Friday afternoon at three p.m.” He looked to Sasha sitting beside him. “That person was you.”

  She sat up straighter. “And?”

  “Did you see anything suspicious while you were in there? Any indication of a theft?”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t take anything?”

  Her grey eyes flashed silver fire as they narrowed, and she eyed everyone around the table. “Are you suggesting I’m the thief, Mr. Arthur?”

  That was a quick leap to guilt from simple fact. “I’m just . . . ”

  She turned her glare to the other men. “Is this why I’m at this meeting? Am I being tried without a question being asked?”

  “Yes,” Lance answered.

  “No.” He glared at the CEO.

  “Well, which one is it? Why would I want to steal from my employers?”

  “You need the money?” Lance responded.

  She twitched in her seat. “I inherited money from my father. I don’t even have to work if I don’t want to.”