by Rebecca York
“That’s a valid assessment,” Decorah replied.
“Why do you think so?”
“Because I also know something about the box.”
His positive reception made her able to say, “Olivia told me Luke opened the box and a mist came out. He was knocked unconscious. And when he came to, the spirit of an ancient warrior was inside him—in his mind, I guess.”
She waited for the two men to laugh at her, but their expressions had turned grim.
“Christ,” Marshall muttered. “It’s worse than you thought.”
“Maybe not,” Frank said. “The warrior could be a plus.”
“But he could kill Luke.”
“He needs Luke.”
“I guess for now.”
Decorah turned back to Beth. “Did she say anything else?”
“Yes, the warrior said his job is to protect the box and get it to the Master of the Moon.” She gave Frank a long look. “Do you know where that is?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“So you sent Luke to keep an eye on the box, but you had no idea what he was supposed to do with it.”
“We wanted him to keep it safe until the owners made themselves known.” He cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea where Luke and Olivia might have gone?”
“To repeat your phrase—unfortunately, no.”
Decorah pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “If you hear anything from them, call me.”
oOo
The two men left the house and returned to the SUV. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Frank swore.
“What?” Brand asked.
“This is a mess, and it’s all my fault.”
“You didn’t know what would happen.”
“I should have realized the danger swirling around the box. I should have sent more men with Luke.”
“To hang around Baltimore doing nothing?” Brand asked.
“Yeah.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “And then I have to ask the question, why didn’t he call back?”
“His phone was in the office.”
“But there are still pay phones in the city. He could have called from one of them.”
“Why do you think he didn’t?” Brand asked.
“Probably because the warrior is insisting on secrecy. And he thinks they can handle the situation on their own.”
“And they can’t,” Brand muttered.
He started the engine, then realized he had no idea where they were going.
“What are we doing next?” he asked.
“If I had to guess, I’d say Olivia won’t go back to her apartment. But the men who trashed the office would look for her there.” Frank consulted his smartphone and gave Brand the address.
He programmed it into the GPS and started off.
oOo
Olivia watched Luke looking around. Probably he was evaluating the property from a whole new point of view—as a hideout.
Lucky for them, the driveway was screened by a row of pine trees, and the backyard was planted with numerous bushes and trees so that you could barely see the houses on either side. Which was good, since the car they’d come in hardly looked like it belonged in this neighborhood.
“Come on.”
After snatching up the chest, Luke got out of the car and she followed, taking a breath of the fresh air.
“So far, so good,” Luke murmured.
Olivia nodded as she stared at the old Victorian house with a turret at the front and a wide-screened porch in back.
“The Hanovers are doing pretty well.”
“Tom is a good salesman. He moves a lot of medical equipment.”
“Um.”
They walked across the patio, through a door and into the screened porch. Before they reached the back door, Luke stopped beside a table with a group of four flowerpots. He moved one holding pink and magenta impatiens and retrieved the house key.
“That’s a dumb place to put it,” Olivia said, then wished she had just kept her mouth shut. She was nervous—about being alone with Luke and with the warrior.
“Yeah, I told them something similar. Not quite in those words. They did it anyway,” he said over his shoulder as he opened the back door and ushered her into a huge kitchen with an island and granite countertops.
She saw Luke looking around and knew that Zabastian was taking in the setup. At least, it didn’t make sense that it would be Luke. He’d been here before.
“They prepare food here?” the warrior asked.
“Yes.”
“We should eat.”
“I guess you’re hungry—after a few hundred years in the box.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she decided it was another dumb thing to have said. From now on, she vowed to think before she spoke.
“Do you think the Hanovers will mind us raiding their pantry?” she asked.
“We can restock for them later.”
“Restock? How long do you expect to be here?”
He shrugged. “It depends.”
Feeling like she was trespassing, she pulled open the refrigerator and looked to see what the owners had left. There wasn’t much, but she found some grapes in the vegetable keeper and some Vermont Cheddar cheese that the homeowners hadn’t cleared out before they left. Not much of a meal.
“Maybe there’s something better,” Luke said. Opening the freezer compartment, he pointed to some plastic cartons that were carefully labeled.
“Ginny makes fantastic beef stew. We can thaw this in the microwave, then heat it up.”
“You’re sure this is okay? I mean making ourselves at home.”
“They trust me.”
“So when you tell them you were hiding out from armed men, they’ll understand?”
Nerves made his voice gruff. “Stop coming up with objections. We need to hole up here while we figure out where to find the Temple of the Moon.”
“You don’t think the phone directory will do?”
“No,” he snapped, then turned away. Inside his mind, he knew the warrior wanted to tell the argumentative woman to shut up and fix a meal. But Luke knew that wasn’t the way to handle the situation.
Handle? That wasn’t the kind of relationship he wanted with Olivia. He wanted something real. Something that would endure.
Or was he kidding himself? Like, how was she going to react when she found out Decorah Security had planted him in the computer repair job—and that he’d caused a lot of the computer problems?
You should have thought of that before you did it, the warrior commented.
Shut up.
Unable to deal with Olivia or the warrior, he wandered into the dining room, then the living room and the den.
Are these people rich? Zabastian asked after Luke had explained the large, flat TV screen.
No.
But this house is big. How many people live here?
Two.
I think twenty people could live here comfortably.
Not by current American standards.
You waste resources.
Probably.
He stopped beside the fireplace.
You keep this house warm with fire?
It’s just for . . . ambiance.
The warrior snorted and picked up a cut glass pitcher sitting on one of the side shelves. And the rooms are filled with valuable items. Zabastian hefted the pitcher in his hand, then replaced it on the shelf.
They inherited some antiques from Ginny’s mother.
They have many things here that they do not need.
They don’t need your critique.
The aroma of well-seasoned stew reached him, and he turned back to the kitchen where Olivia was spooning the food into bowls. She’d automatically taken the woman’s role, and he wished he’d thought to heat the food himself.
Why? the warrior asked.
Because I don’t want her doing all the domestic work.
Women are made for that. And for making love.
Like I said, we treat them as equal partners. They’re bankers, senators, doctors, lawyers.
Zabastian made a rough sound.
“What?” Olivia asked.
“Nothing. I was having a little exchange with my inner warrior.”
“About what?”
“Modern mores.”
She gave him a considering look. “He’s still commenting on sex roles?”
“Yeah.”
She sighed. “What do you want to drink?”
“Cold water. And I can get it.”
Deliberately he crossed to the cabinet beside the sink. “Can I get you some?”
“Thanks.”
He took down two glasses and added ice cubes from the dispenser on the side of the refrigerator. Then he added cold water from the faucet.
Zabastian swirled the ice cubes in the glass, then took a sip of the water. This is very cold, like from a high mountain stream. But it should be pure. Why does it have a funny taste?
From the chemicals they put in at the water treatment plant.
He set down Olivia’s glass, then pulled out a chair and joined her at the table.
The stew was hot from the microwave, and Luke blew on it. “You cooked it quickly,” the warrior commented.
“It’s already cooked. I just heated it.”
Of course Luke knew that, but he wasn’t going to stop the warrior from asking questions because he’d never been great at idle conversation. And the Big Z might as well fill the silence.
He took a small taste with the spoon, prepared for Ginny’s excellent cooking, then felt the stunned expression on his face.
“What?” Olivia asked.
“This is . . . wonderful.”
“Yes. It’s good.”
“You eat like this all the time?”
She tipped her head to the side, her gaze fixed on him. “It depends on how well the woman cooks.”
He grunted.
“I guess the art of seasoning food has come a long way in the past couple thousand years,” she added.
He bent to his bowl of stew, spooning up a chunk of meat and chewing enthusiastically.
Close your mouth when you eat, Luke inwardly muttered.
Why?
It’s polite.
The warrior said something Luke couldn’t understand, but he assumed it was a rude suggestion. Nevertheless, he complied, and when Luke glanced up, he and Olivia exchanged a long look. He wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but it warmed him.
She swallowed the food in her mouth. “So, Zabastian, when you defended the box before, did you take over another man’s body?”
It was a very direct question, and it hung in the air between them.
Luke was as interested in the answer as Olivia. “Yes,” the warrior said.
“And what happened after that?”
“After the crisis was over, I went back into the box.”
“You didn’t fight it?”
He felt his features harden. “The Master of the Moon is all-powerful.”
“But according to you, the bad guys have gone after the box more than once.”
“They want its power. They are persistent.”
Luke sensed that the warrior might not be telling the whole truth. But it seemed that there was nothing he could do to force the issue.
So he went back to his stew. Actually, it was gratifying to experience the simple meal from Zabastian’s point of view. It would not have tasted remarkable to Luke, but now he could appreciate the expertly seasoned gravy, the tender meat and the chunks of vegetables in a new way.
Olivia finished first and ran water in her bowl in the sink. Then she started for the kitchen door.
“Where are you going?” he asked quickly.
“To look for the bathroom. If that’s okay?”
“Fine.”
“Where is it?”
“Across the living room and into the hallway. It’s the door beyond the den.”
He watched her hurry out of the room, and he felt mistrust welling up from within himself—mistrust emanating from the warrior.”
She is up to something.
Unfortunately, I agree.
And it is the same for you, the warrior added.
What do you mean?
You are thinking of calling your friends at Decorah Security.
They can help us.
I will handle this.
The man with two minds quietly pushed back his chair and walked lightly across the living room, heading for the hallway where she’d disappeared.
She might be going to the bathroom, but she’d stopped in the den first.
The receiver from the landline was in her hand, her shoulders were tense, and she was quickly dialing a number.
He stepped up behind her, grabbed the phone and pushed his finger onto the button that clicked off the connection.
You need to learn how to handle your woman, the warrior muttered.
She’s scared. She wants to talk to her friends.
Don’t make excuses for her. Take her mind off her fear.
Chapter 6
Olivia’s heart stopped—then started up again in double time. “What are you doing?”
“You first,” the man who held her in his grasp growled. She stared into his glittering eyes. Was it Luke or Zabastian? Or both? She didn’t know. She’d given up trying to figure out what to expect—and from whom.
When she remained silent, he said, “I told you, it’s safer if nobody knows where we are.”
“But I don’t think we can handle this on our own.”
“I am the one with the experience. I will be the judge of that.”
She knew who was speaking now, and she felt herself tremble in his arms. What was he going to do? Punish her? Kill her for disobedience? Like he’d killed that other woman.
Instead he lowered his mouth to hers. She tried to speak, and his lips captured the sound. At the same time, she forgot what she had intended to say.
Had she wanted to stop him or tell him she liked what he was doing?
She didn’t know which. But whatever the comment had been, it evaporated like water hitting hot rocks as his lips moved over hers, hungry, insistent, arousing.
She made another sound, and this time she knew it rose from her own need.
She had liked Luke Garner since he’d walked into the Peterbalm offices. And she wanted to find out what they might mean to each other.
She didn’t know if she even liked the man who clasped her body against his, but he rocked her to her core.
Fear and sexual excitement warred within her. Desire won. She knew she wanted him as she had never wanted anyone in her life.
The realization was shocking—an acknowledgment that she’d lost her good sense.
Or was she helpless to resist the combination of the two men? The one she knew and the one she wanted to know.
Her knees would no longer support her, and she had to cling to his broad shoulders to stay on her feet.
When he lifted his head to stare down into her face, the emotions she saw overwhelmed her.
“Your eyes are so blue,” he said, his voice gritty. “I have never seen eyes with that color before. They are beautiful. Like twin mountain lakes. I could drown in them.”
Poetry? From the warrior or from Luke?
She hardly knew this man. Not nearly long enough for this. At the same time, she felt like she had known him for a thousand years.
He stared into her face for heartbeats, then set the box down on the floor before lowering his head toward hers again. This time she raised up on tiptoes—meeting him halfway.
The contact was like a bolt of hidden power, sizzling along her nerve endings, swamping her senses. Heat from his large body seared her through the layers of their clothing.
Now that they were alone, with the time to explore each other, she discovered very quickly that this man knew how to kiss—with his lips, his tongue, and his teeth. He was masterful and se
nsual, overwhelming and then subtle by turns. Playful, then serious again.
She knew she was being kissed by a man who had devoted considerable time to studying the art. Had she been missing this all along with Luke Garner? Or was this the other man—the one who had tried to dominate her?
He wasn’t dominating now. He was giving and taking in equal measure, obviously pleased that she could play this game as well as he could.
She drank in the heady flavor of the man who held her so firmly in his arms, catching a primitive tang below the taste of the well-spiced meal they’d shared.
She clung to him while he angled his head, first one way and then the other, as though he were greedy to experience her every way he could—and greedy to take the kiss to new levels of sensuality.
But it wasn’t enough. Not for her. And apparently not for him, either. She felt one of his large hands slide down to her hips and work the hem of her blouse from the waistband of her slacks so that he could flatten his palm against her back and press her breasts against his chest.
His other hand slipped lower, cupping her bottom and pulling her lower body in against his erection.
She had never lost her head with a man. She had always been cautious in her relationships. And maybe that was why she had never quite gotten what she wanted.
Now she was hot and needy, burning up from the inside out.
When she moved her hips against him, he made a sound of approval. She was lost in the male taste of him, the feel of his hard body, and the sensuality of his large hands moving over her.
The clothes they were wearing were in the way. And he must be thinking the same thing. Deftly he unhooked the catch of her bra. With one part of her mind, she thought it must be Luke doing it. No ancient warrior would know how to unfasten a bra.
He shifted her so he could push the cups out of the way as he swept her blouse up and lowered his head, pressing his cheek against one inner curve and then the other.
Her nipples had already contracted to tight points of sensation. When he sucked one into his mouth, she cried out with the intensity of it.
One hand found her other breast, squeezing her nipple between his thumb and finger, twisting and pulling, driving her to an unbearable level of need.
She reached between them, fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. He was too impatient for her to finish. With two hands, he grabbed the sides of the garment and pulled, tearing fabric and sending buttons bouncing around the room.
