“That affects us?” he asked.
She nodded, reaching out to touch the vehicle’s central display, zooming in on the map there. “There’s a massive accident up ahead.” She pointed at a big yellow symbol. “See that? That’s the accident, and look at all that red between us and it.”
He studied the map. It had just as much detail as the one he’d pulled up on his laptop, which he found amazing. “That’s us?” he asked, pointing at another marker.
She nodded again, then swore as their SUV was suddenly floating, as if on water. But it was far too cold for water out there, which meant . . .
“Ice,” she said tightly. “Black ice, we call it. It’s from all the rain we had earlier, combined with these freezing temperatures. It’s not common this time of year around here, but it happens.” She shook her head in disgust. “I don’t think we’re going to get very far tonight. But the good news is, neither will our enemies. That accident was more than an hour ago, which means they’re probably just as stuck as we are. If we’re really lucky, they died in the crash. But at least we know they’re not getting through.” She tapped more buttons on the display. “It won’t help if we get killed in a crash, or freeze to death on the side of the road, because we insisted on following the Talisman, so we’ll have to . . .” The picture on the display changed to reveal a list of hotels. “Damn,” she breathed.
“Is there a problem?”
“Not a decent hotel among them,” she muttered.
Despite the storm that had turned the road to ice and was now keeping them from their prey, he wanted to laugh. Cassandra valued her comforts. She wasn’t worried about the ice endangering their lives at this very moment. She only cared about the quality of their lodgings for the night.
“We’ll just have to suffer,” he murmured, trying to keep his amusement from showing.
She gave him a sharp glance. “Okay, look, I need to pay attention to this road, so you’ll have to start calling. It’s a touchscreen, and that’s a list of hotels at the next couple of off-ramps, starting maybe half a mile from here. We won’t be the only ones looking, so you might have to go down the list, but the more stars the better. Find us a room.”
Damian didn’t quite understand the process, but once he touched the first hotel on the list, he realized the in-dash system was linked to her cell phone and could make calls for him. He grinned. The strategist in him simply loved the technology of this era.
It was more than two off-ramps before they found a hotel with a room. Cassandra insisted the price was outrageous, given the accommodations, but the authorities had closed the road up ahead, which made it likely that this was their last chance to avoid sleeping in their vehicle. He had no doubt there were times when Cassandra had slept in the back of the SUV, but he’d seen enough of it to know that the two of them wouldn’t fit, no matter how familiar they were willing to get.
He had very fond memories of getting completely familiar with every part of her long, lean body, and, if he was honest, admitted he was looking forward to doing it again. He was willing to move beyond the insults they’d flung at each other earlier, and suspected that Cassandra’s defensiveness had more to do with her own insecurities than any real anger at him. It was almost as if she’d been looking for a reason for them to argue, because she didn’t trust what they had between them.
When he considered what Nico had told him about her history, or rather what he hadn’t told him, certain things became clear. Some man in her past—most likely the ex-husband—had fucked with her head, making her feel less than desirable, of little value as a woman. And that was absurd on the face of it. She was beautiful and intelligent and possessed a courage that put her life in danger almost every day in order to protect a population that didn’t even know it needed protecting.
He’d like to get his hands on whoever it was that had destroyed her sense of worth. Even more, he’d like to get his hands on every inch of Cassandra to prove once and for all that she was as desirable a woman as he’d ever met. And not only his hands either, he thought, stealing a private look at her in the dark vehicle. His cock twitched at the thought of all the things he’d like to do to her.
But while Cassandra definitely still wanted him, she seemed to accept the end of the relationship as inevitable. She acted almost as if it was better to get it out of the way, to avoid prolonging the pain. He didn’t accept that. Which meant he was going to have to seduce her . . . again. And all while chasing bad guys over half the country on ice-covered roads.
Cassandra angled toward their turnoff, swearing when they slid uncontrollably down the long ramp, and managing to slow them down just before they hit the busy road below. They hit the curb hard enough that their vehicle jerked with the force of it, and she muttered a string of curses. But Damian turned away with a smile. It seemed he was going to have time for that seduction after all.
CASSANDRA COULD barely hold her head up by the time they found the hotel, got checked in, and finally made it to their room. Their only room. Sure, they’d shared way more than a room for the last two nights, but everything was changed now, even if she didn’t want it to be. Or wait, she did want it to be, didn’t she?
She didn’t know anymore. When they’d first argued, when she’d said those horrible things to Damian, and he’d finally gotten angry, she’d been relieved. It was better for them to end now, better for both of them, before things got any more complicated and people got hurt. People like her. She couldn’t afford to let another man into her heart, couldn’t risk that horrible vulnerability.
And, as for Damian, he and Nick had both made it clear that he was a player. Nick had even warned her away from him. Damian hadn’t settled down with one woman in his previous life, so why would he do anything else now? Especially now, when he’d been trapped in that stone for so long. He’d want his freedom, all of it. Including the freedom to fuck as many women as he wanted. And God knew the women would line up for the privilege. Why settle for her when he could have all of that?
But now he’d confused her all over again by being so sweet this afternoon, by kissing her like he still wanted her. What was she supposed to do with that?
Unfortunately, they had no choice tonight. There was only one room, and practically speaking, it was more secure for them to stick together anyway. Sotiris or his flunkies—it was still very unclear to her whether the sorcerer himself was involved in whatever plan was afoot—knew she and Damian were coming after the Talisman, and he might consider it to be well worth the effort to stop them before they disrupted his plans.
“What do you think their target is?” Damian asked, as they rode the elevator up. Their room was on the tenth floor, and she was just too exhausted to worry about climbing stairs tonight. “Graham said ‘north’ but he specifically mentioned Chicago.”
“I don’t trust that,” she said tiredly, wishing this was all over with already. Had she ever been this exhausted on a hunt before? Had the stakes ever been this high? She sighed. “I mean, I think they really did go north, but Chicago could mean anything. It’s a huge city, with a huge suburban population. Not to mention that there are several major airports on the northern corridor. We need to narrow it down.”
“How do we do that?”
The elevator door opened. She grabbed the strap of her duffel, intending to hitch it up to her shoulder, but a jolt of pain had her crying out in surprise before she’d gotten it even halfway. Damian took it from her, and she let him. She was so tired, so overall aching, that she’d nearly forgotten her injured shoulder.
“You need to go easy on that arm,” he scolded her. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”
Her lips tightened in an almost automatic response, because for the last five years, she’d done exactly that. She’d worked all alone and loved it. There’d been no one to argue over her choices on the big things, or quibble over de
tails on the little ones. She’d been a one-woman army, and she’d liked it that way. But then Damian had shoved his gorgeous self into her life and made her feel lonely for the first time since she’d joined the FBI and been recruited by Nick.
No risk, no pain. That had been her heart’s motto, and it had worked for her. She’d been happy. But Damian made her yearn for more. Made her want things she’d thought were safely locked away forever.
With a resigned sigh, she watched, as he hefted the bag as if it weighed nothing. “Show off,” she muttered and picked up her much lighter backpack. Then she headed left down the hall to their room, where she fumbled the key card into the lock. Damian pushed open the door from behind her, placing a big hand on the panel above her head and giving a shove.
The room smelled like every mid-range hotel room she’d ever stayed in, and there had been more than a few of those, despite her preference for five stars. Outside of the big cities, five-star accommodations were hard to come by. Her steps dragged as she moved down the short entry hall. She passed a standard bathroom setup on her left, but came to a stunned halt when she hit the main room.
Sharing a room with Damian? She’d make it work. But sharing a bed? And not just a bed, but a bed that was like something out of every teenaged girl’s fantasy. It was huge. A four-poster with a mile-high mattress and a mountain of lacy pillows. She glanced around in confusion. Was this the hotel’s version of a honeymoon suite? Well, shit. That certainly explained the hotel clerk’s smirking grin when he’d checked them in downstairs. The damn bed took up most of the room and, as big as it was, it seemed ten times bigger in her mind’s eye. She swallowed a groan. She could survive letting him carry her duffel, could even survive his luscious and confusing kisses. But this? She walked past the bed and stared at the narrow strip of carpet in front of the wall heater.
Damian chuckled right behind her, so close that she could feel the warm rush of his breath. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be good.”
She shivered. That’s what she was worried about. He was good. Very, very good.
“Come on,” he said, dropping the duffel onto the long dresser and turning her around with both hands on her shoulders. “You’re exhausted. You take the first shower—”
“I need to call Lilia, figure out where they’re going.”
“Lilia?”
“Nick’s personal assistant. I have an idea—”
“You can call her after you shower,” he insisted, walking her to the bathroom and turning her through the doorway, swatting her butt to get her moving when she just stood there.
She scowled at him over her shoulder, but the swat had the desired effect. Closing the door, she turned on the hot water, then stripped off every piece of clothing before realizing she hadn’t brought anything in with her to change into. She briefly contemplated putting her clothes back on and venturing out to grab some fresh ones, but that seemed like way too much work. So instead she pulled back the shower curtain—she hated shower curtains—checked it for mold, and then, finding it clean, ducked under the water and pulled the curtain shut.
The water pressure was exactly what she’d expected—which was crappy—but it was hot and clean, which was everything she wasn’t. She stood under the weak spray for a long time, letting the heat seep into her bones. Eventually, she opened the small bottle of shampoo and sniffed, then poured it over her head, and washed her hair. She rinsed, added the complimentary conditioner, and let it sit while she tried to avoid thinking about everything that had happened in the past few hours. It didn’t work. She felt . . . contaminated. Even though Damian had killed Graham in the other room where she wouldn’t have to see it, in her mind’s eye, she was splattered with the man’s blood, sticky with bits of pink flesh.
Using the provided bar of soap, she washed every inch of her body, then went back and did it all over again. Even the bottoms of her feet got scrubbed, and between her toes. She was overreacting; she knew it. She frequently dealt with bad people, and some of them were bad enough that they’d tried to kill her, so she’d killed them first. But tonight, she was overwrought, at her literal wit’s end. Between the freezing cold stench of that awful room, and then the dead body in the kitchen, and the persona she’d been forced to adopt in order to get the information she needed from Graham . . . she had nothing left to give.
She just stood under the hot water, and kept scrubbing the filth from her body. She probably would have rubbed off some of her skin if Damian hadn’t opened the bathroom door to admit a sobering draft of cool air.
“I’m leaving some clothes on the sink for you,” he called over the shower.
It took her a moment to leave her world of scrubbing frenzy behind, but she managed to yell back her thanks with enough enthusiasm to convince him she wasn’t drowning. He closed the door, and she peeked around the shower curtain to see what he’d left her. A clean T-shirt and some underwear. She sighed. Once again, Damian had dug through her duffel and selected a pair of panties for her. Silky pink panties that she was supposed to wear to bed. The bed she’d be sharing with him. Sweatpants would have been the better choice, although she didn’t think even that would be enough armor to help her resist him. Hell, she didn’t even know if he’d try anything. Or if she wanted him to. She thought for a moment. No, she definitely wanted him to. And what did that say about her? That she was too weak to resist a relationship that couldn’t possibly go anywhere. As soon as he started meeting other women, she’d become just one more among many.
She finished her shower quickly after that, reminding herself that Damian might like to clean up, too. After all, he’d been the one dealing with dead bodies, not her. She rinsed her hair, then wrapped one towel around her head and another around her body and pulled the curtain back to discover that he hadn’t only provided clothes, he’d left her small cosmetic tote sitting on the sink. How could you resist a guy who understood the need for a comb and moisturizer?
On the other hand, there were the pretty pink panties. He’d probably had a great time picking out those.
When she was dressed and more or less ready, she opened the bathroom door, shivering slightly in the cooler air. It wasn’t actually cold; it just felt that way compared to the steamy bathroom. And her bare legs didn’t help any. Tugging down the T-shirt as much as she could, she ventured past the mirrored closet wall and around into the main room. Damian was there, looking pretty much the way he always did. He’d kicked off his boots and was sitting up on the bed, back against the headboard, pillows piled behind him, and long legs stretched out in front of him, with his computer open on his lap.
He looked up and smiled. “You look better.”
She could have made some snarky comment about his implicit suggestion that she looked bad before, but she didn’t have it in her. “I feel better,” she said instead. “The bathroom’s all yours.”
He nodded and went back to his typing. “In a minute,” he said without looking up.
Casey scowled. So much for worrying about them sharing a bed. There she was in her pink panties and bare legs, and he was ignoring her. Apparently, she was perfectly safe. She knew she should be relieved, but all she was feeling in that moment was disappointment.
“They have a coffee shop downstairs,” he said absently. “And they’ll do room service for a fee. The menu’s there on the desk.”
She did a quick scan of the desk and spotted the single piece of pink paper that served as a room service menu. It was fairly simple stuff, but it included cheeseburgers, which was good enough for her.
“Should I go ahead and order?” she asked, still perusing the menu. “Cheeseburgers and fries? How many will you—” She squeaked as two big hands slid beneath her T-shirt and settled against the bare skin of her belly.
“You smell great,” he murmured, his lips nuzzling her ear through her wet hair. “Your hair, too.”
&nb
sp; Casey froze, her heart racing with something close to fear, even as a warmth filled her belly beneath the too-familiar heat of his hands. “Thanks,” she whispered and then wanted to groan. Thanks? What the hell? She shivered and her head fell back on his shoulder when his lips closed over her neck, his tongue a wet, warm sweep of sensation before he sucked gently and moved on until he reached the corner of her mouth.
“I like the panties,” he whispered.
Her heart felt like it was climbing up her throat. “You picked them out,” she managed to say, rather proud of herself for sounding cool and calm.
“I know,” he growled then slipped his fingers under the top edge of the silken material and teased downward, flirting with the edge of her pussy.
She sucked in a breath. Was he going to make love to her? Was this just a quick fuck to release adrenaline after a fight? Or was it something more? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
His teeth closed over her earlobe. “Delicious,” he murmured, and then abruptly straightened, his hands lingering only slightly as he took away their warmth and tugged her T-shirt back into place. “I’m going to shower. You should order some food. Two burgers for me, two fries, and a chocolate shake.”
Casey blinked at the sudden change in mood, but managed to take it in stride just as she did everything else, hiding her feelings behind a rigid self-control. “I’ll call it in,” she said, all cool and collected. Move along, nothing to see here.
The Stone Warriors: Damian Page 23
