“Or possibly yesterday. Before I picked you up I got in a bit of a tussle, but Mallory and Gunnar helped me out of it.”
Her lips tightened, but she nodded. “What really happened today? I don’t think your condition has to do with a business meeting at Temple Industries. Or the break in.”
She climbed down from her perch on the edge of the tub, and knelt beside it to better reach my sides. I chose honesty. Somewhat. “I have to duel someone tonight. Someone strong, and I don’t know if I can win. Then I have to confront another group of…” I hesitated, not wanting to scare her. “Bad guys who want something very badly. Enough that they might have even had something to do with my parents’ deaths.” Her hands paused at that, but quickly resumed their work, pressing me back against the tub so that she could move to my chest. Like an expert, she started high, saving the lower area for last.
I realized that as much as I cared about Indie, I didn’t know if I could ever fully bring her into my life. It was just too dangerous. Even for me. But she was a regular. She was defenseless. Well, she had martial arts and firearm training, and was damn good at both, but not enough training to jump into my weight class of bad guys. Dragons were out of her league. Hell, they were out of mine too. I had to decide if I was going to keep allowing her to assume we were an item, or if I was going to shatter that potential outcome. Her washcloth came to my abs and I tensed instinctively.
She smiled at my reaction. “Well, if you were asking my advice, I would say that it’s pretty damn important that you win your… duel?” She made the word a question. I nodded. “I didn’t know people still used that word anymore. But I guess your life is not of our time, is it?” I shook my head, glad she had steered the conversation in this direction, but also hesitant to squash my feelings for her. Maybe once this fight was over I would be able to calm down. Slow down my life. Work for the company, and stop taking on such dangerous clients. Her advice was right though. I had to win tonight. Everyone depended on me surviving, so I could deal with the dragons after.
“You’re right, Indie. I do have to win tonight. I just don’t know how. Some… strange things happened today. I fought some things that I had never dealt with before, and luckily I came out on the right side. But I wasn’t ready, and it could have cost others their lives. I can’t be reckless when it comes to others. When it was just me, I didn’t mind, but now…” I looked her in the eyes, placing my fingers atop hers. She stared back, eyes defiant. “My life is too dangerous, even for me. I couldn’t bear having someone I care about hurt by something they could never defend themselves against. Like you. It’s why I’ve always kept you at arms length. As good as you are, my enemies would make a game of hurting you, just so that they could see me hurt more before they finished me off.
“I can’t allow that. You’ve been my rock through some pretty rough parts, but I run two lives. I just can’t seem to help it. I know it’s dangerous, but it’s a part of me that I can’t give up. Those are the only moments where I truly feel alive. The other life is just a balance — safety and security for the dangerous half. Sometimes they overlap,” She smirked at that, “But I must attempt to keep those I care about safe.”
She waited, and then, as if I had said nothing, continued washing my abs, her delicate fingers massaging deep into my muscles through the soapy cloth. My blood was hot, seeming to melt the weariness from the muscles underneath her expert fingers.
She finished cleaning all the appropriate places. Her hand paused for a moment, and then she spoke softly. “I think you should handle the rest, Master Temple.” She whispered with emphasis. She opened her eyes to stare at me, a feral, hungry gleam twinkling in the blue ice chips of her irises. “Alex might begin to wonder what kind of doctoring I am doing.” I nodded dumbly.
She climbed to her feet, bending at the waist as she plucked up a stray piece of glass on the floor. Her face was close to mine, and her warm, soapy fingers caressed my temple. “I seem to remember you saying something about danger, but the steam must have made me forget. It must not have been that important. Teach me how to protect myself better, because I am not going anywhere unless you make me. Words are not enough to impede me from taking what I want, and what I know you also want. Danger is something I love just as much as I care for you, and it’s why I am still around. Man up, Nate. I am.”
She smiled to ease the sting of her words, then turned on the balls of her feet, and left me. I would hurt later. Any more cleaning, and I would have had to tip her. As it stood, I would remember this bath for a very long time. First pleasantly, and then with an ache that isn’t entirely unpleasant in it’s own right. Guys are different from girls. Teasing can cause pain later if the teasing was good enough.
And yes, her teasing was glorious.
Chapter 24
I stepped out of the bathroom in my robe, not wanting to leave the safety of my home. It wasn’t just that I was scared, because I was terrified. Battling the Minotaur was not on my bucket list. This could be a very short day for the last Temple heir. And it wasn’t just because I didn’t want to go to Temple Industries and see whatever digital feed they had told me about, even though I didn’t want to see that either. I couldn’t imagine what kind of clip I would see, but if it was password protected from even their most trusted employee, Ashley Belmont, then it was not going to be pleasant.
No, it was more than that.
I could still feel Indie’s touch on my skin. The whole process of her bathing me clung to my soul. I felt stronger, more sure of myself, and I didn’t want to leave that behind. I had experienced frequent dalliances with the fairer sex, but never before had I experienced such a strengthening as she had just shown me with a simple bath. I wanted to relish that feeling, and knew that the moment I stepped out the door, all hell would break loose, and the feeling would evaporate like the intensity of that first spray of cologne that leaves the skin somewhere during the middle of the night, when you want it on the most.
I sauntered over to my desk, the robe brushing my knees as I moved. I sat down before my desk, steepled my fingers, and glanced at my phone. I needed to make a call, a legally questionable call to an old college friend. To do that, I needed to use the scrambled sequence she had given me so that neither call could be traced to us. Paranoid?
Yes.
She was one of the most wanted cyber-criminals in the country. Possibly even the world. Her true identity was still a secret to the governmental agencies, but as I didn’t know how close anyone was to catching her, or even if she was still being hunted, I couldn’t use a social call to talk business with her. She would also be less than pleased if I did such a thing. I flipped open my iMac, and clicked the hidden icon on the desktop that she had sent me: an Encryption software that was years ahead of even most governmental branches. I typed in my cell number as prompted, and clicked enter.
The software began bouncing my cell phone number from one country to the next in five-second intervals, making triangulation impossible. I watched this all happen on a Google Maps image of the earth. Then it began switching my number at each location shift, until it revealed a temporary number for me to use, good for only the next seven-seconds. I hesitated. Did I want to do this? No.
But I had to.
Othello would probably relish the call. It had been a while since we spoke. I quickly typed in a number from memory. The system chimed, and then began tracing the number, the sequence of digits actually a code she had given me, and not necessarily a true phone number. But the system knew what to do with it. After a few seconds, her voice came to me through the speakers in Russian. I smiled at that, anxious to use the language after so long. That was, after all, where we had met in college. Taking Russian together. It was my fourth language, but I think it was her ninth. Ninth fluent language. Not counting any others she dabbled in.
“Привет, Фарос. Как дела?” I grinned. Hello, Pharos. How are you? Pharos was the nickname she had immediately given me upon di
scovering that I was a wizard. The Alexandrian Lighthouse because she said that I shed light on shadows for a living, while she created shadows in the light so that she could work in concealment for a living.
“Очень хорошо, а ты?” I answered, already missing her, but knowing we wouldn’t be able to talk personal matters over such a secure line. No breadcrumbs could be left behind for others to follow.
“Not bad. Very, very busy. As much as it pains me to shorten our conversation, keep it fewer than three minutes, if you please. What can I help such a dear flame with this morning?” I could practically see the smile on her face as she said it. I realized that wherever she was, it must be morning. Or she was simply throwing false trails in the event someone had hacked into our conversation. One never knew with Othello. We were still speaking Russian, and it took me a few seconds to phrase my questions correctly.
I heard her chuckle once I was finished. “Your Russian is growing stale, Pharos. Perhaps you need to find a new Russian bedmate to fine tune that precious tongue of yours. You are beginning to sound rudimentary at best.” That was one place we had frequented together, studying our… inflections between marathon bouts of, well, you know. She continued, conscious of our limited time frame. “Now, may I ask what Pharos finds so interesting in such an old book, and what it might have to do with the coming eclipse, or the… Minotaur?” She said the last word in English, but with a heavy accent. I felt proud, realizing that I wasn’t the only one who had trouble translating that particular word.
“You may not.” I answered, smiling.
“No fun. You will receive an encrypted email shortly with all the pertinent information. May I ask why the interest in this Tomas?” I watched the screen still bouncing our calls throughout the Google Maps image of the earth.
“Just a new face in the game I find myself playing. And I don’t like new faces when my life is on the line.”
Her voice grew clipped. “No one is allowed to hurt my Pharos. Do you want me to arrange an accident? I have new friends who specialize in such things.” She spoke very softly. Was she asking if I wanted to place a hit on the dragon hunter?
I shook my head. “Not necessary. Yet. But thank you.” I said quickly, very aware of the time ticking down. I asked her a few more questions, and she said she would include it all in the email within the hour. “You might need to expand your search to include myths. Anything might be helpful, even though it may not seem so to you. My… specialty finds useful tidbits where others would not.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I know your… specialty very, very well.” She purred with a thick Russian accent. My already testosterone-laden body responded, memories of tangled sheets filling my mind. She laughed at my silence. “No need to be prude, Pharos. We shall chat soon. I may have need of your help in the future, but next time our conversation should be closer. I very much wish to witness your specialty firsthand once again. Check your email soon.” Then the line went dead, and the software shut down immediately. My computer rebooted of its own accord, running diagnostics that changed my IP address, and a slew of other safety precautions, basically erasing that my computer had even been running for the last twenty minutes. Pretty neat.
I leaned back in my chair, sighing. I hadn’t thought about our bedroom tussles in years, but she had been one of my best. That brought my thoughts back to Indie. Judging from my bath, I assumed she might even be able to top Othello’s skills. Sensing something was out of place on my desk, I scanned its surface, and was shocked to see a satin red thong hanging off my lamp. I flinched, quickly snatching them away as if trying to hide them from any witnesses. I felt a piece of parchment folded around the tiny triangular crotch, and grinned. I unfolded it, reading the hastily scrawled lipstick note. The color matched the thong perfectly.
“I have read that Warriors were usually dressed by their lovers before battle, but I hope that what I did will suffice. I have also read that Heroes carry a trophy into duels for good luck. So I left you a trinket… Touch for touch, Nate. Your turn next…”
A grin split my face as I stuffed the thong into my robe pocket. Good luck indeed, and also motivation to get my ass home as quickly and as intact as possible. Maybe I had found a dinner after all. No more dessert-dish women for me. If I survived the next few days.
I dialed a phone number and waited.
“Mallory.” He answered.
“Heya’, Mallory.” I said. “I was hoping you could pass on a message for Dean.” Mallory grunted affirmatively. I made my request, listening to him scribble the note down on a pad of paper. “Repeat the address, if you don’t mind.” I asked at the end.
“I don’t need to repeat the address, Master Temple. We both went there the other night. It should be there within the hour. I believe your father had already paid for this specific item, and I hear it has just recently come out of surgery, so it’s sitting there now. The trick would be how to list it. Only Dean will be able to complete the last request though, since he has Power of Attorney with your estate, and he won’t be happy about having to leave the Chateau.”
“It’s important. I’ll make it up to him.”
Mallory grunted. “It will be done, Master Temple.” Then he simply clicked off.
I nodded, wandering around the room for an appropriate change of clothes for the order of unusual events I would be facing tonight. I knew I would be back to meet with Peter this evening, so I could grab the last change of clothes then. If I was still in one piece after the Minotaur.
I realized I was thumbing the thong in my pocket and grinned to myself. They were still warm. Very warm.
Chapter 25
D ressed, and prepared for battle in my Hugo Boss suit, I picked up my phone and dialed the number Officer Marlin had left me. She answered on the second ring. “Officer Marlin.”
“Master Temple.” I quipped, following her terse response. She chuckled.
“You mean, Archangel, I’m sure. One should hear the scuttlebutt around the water cooler after the event at the bridge.”
“I think I’ll stick with Master Temple. It’s catchier.”
“Still, Archangel has a nice ring to it.”
I made a disgusted sound. “You ready to entertain a less than deserving gentleman caller at an expo this evening?”
“Your… gift made my choices much easier than I was accustomed to. I found something rather flashy. I hope it won’t be too much.”
“No one would dare complain that a flower blooms.”
I heard a surprised, but definitely pleased, intake of breath. “Well, that wasn’t what I was fishing for, but thank you. How many times have you used that line?”
“Alas, just this once, but if you vouch for its effect, I might keep it up my sleeve.”
“It’s definitely a keeper.”
“Noted. I shall pick you up in an hour or so. Is that enough time?”
“More than enough. I’ve already been preparing, just in case.”
“I’m sure you didn’t have much difficulty. You were already more than halfway there when we met.”
She sighed on the other end of the line. “From a near death experience to a ball. Young girls imagine stories about this sort of thing.”
“But they imagine those stories with a gentleman or a prince. I am neither.”
“Debatable.” She answered with a demure chuckle.
“Gunnar has your address, so we’ll see you then.” I hung up.
My phone chirped back at me almost as soon as I set it down on my desk, Richard Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries blaring loudly. I let it play for a few seconds, enjoying the jingle, than answered. It was Gunnar. “Nate. There is a man outside my office adamantly waving car keys at me, declaring that I left them at a restaurant that I have never visited before. Do you have any idea why he’s here?” I suppressed a grin.
“Not the foggiest.” I paused. “Why don’t you do one of your FBI things, like running the plates to see w
ho the keys really belong to?”
“We’re not supposed to use government resources for personal reasons.” He answered, very textbook.
“Someone out there is looking for their keys, and someone happens to bring them to your attention, and you are not going to try to discover who they belong to?” I argued derisively. “And you wonder why bureaucracy doesn’t work, why citizens are so concerned.”
“Fine.” I heard him fiddle with his keyboard, rapidly typing in commands. His voice was distant, speaking to someone else in the room. “License plate number.” A shuffling of paper and then utter silence. “You’re kidding me.” He said in disbelief, voice full of disapproval to the agent in his office. I managed to tap the mute button on my phone before I burst out laughing into Gunnar’s earpiece. A muffled argument took place as the agent vehemently defended his information. “Fine. Fenrir it is then.” Gunnar snapped. I heard more keys tapping and then another deathly silence. It stretched on for a full minute. Then longer.
“Did you mean to hang up on me, Gunnar? You haven’t spoken for a while.” I said neutrally.
“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.” He growled.
“I take it you found the owner?” I asked.
I heard him dismiss the agent before speaking to me. “The report declares that a certain Gunnar Randulf and Nathin Temple have owned this 2012 Land Rover Defender Hard Top for the last three months. Funny, because I don’t remember ever using my home as collateral for a…” I heard a few more clicks. “$80,000 SUV.”
“I remember you having it, but you sent it off to Vilnar for customization, which added on close to $100,000 if I remember correctly.”
“Hmmm… It’s not as expensive as the Aston Martin.” He said disappointed.
“You destroyed the Aston Martin in less than 12 hours. This thing has bulletproof glass, and all sorts of other additions that would make it practically impossible to total. Unless you wanted to play chicken with an armored truck heading out of Fort Knox. That might be a different story. Then again, with as much as was spent on this guy, the armored truck might just die in shame.”
Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) Page 17
