He backed up to the steps, sat down, and pulled her over him.
They both groaned at the fierce pleasure as she sunk over him. His hands slid under her shirt, up and inside her bra. It was an awkward, ardent caress. Then his hands were gone, roving around to her back, down to grab her butt. She rubbed her breasts against his chest as their kiss went on and on.
Their magic looped and increased, practically crackling in the air.
No, those were actual sparks!
Rest froze. “I’m meant to be couriering you to San Francisco. Viola needs you.”
“Oh.” Donna’s brain was swallowed up in a cloud of lust. “Viola? Oh!”
He ran a hand up her spine to tangle in her hair. “Thank you.”
“What?”
“For caring. Don’t regret this.”
She smiled. “I couldn’t.” Loving Rest could never be selfishness, no matter what else was happening. Reluctantly, she scrambled off his lap and he helped her up. “Are you really okay?” With her magic she’d felt that he was absolutely fine, untainted by death magic, but she needed to hear him say it.
“Yes.”
“Okay, then.” She would be a responsible adult and a good friend. “What does Viola need?”
Donna worked late into the night, contacting the Old School network, liaising with Vanessa as to who was needed to help Larry, and confirming collection details for Rest to courier them in. What shocked her speechless was Darius’s intention to hand the remains of the paradise fruit over to the Old School to deal with.
“But don’t you want it?”
Rest grinned at her bemusement, and possibly at the way she and Darius stood either side of the granite kitchen counter, eyeing the gold bag that contained the paradise fruit debris with equally suspicious and reluctant expressions. The bag lay within a protective circle of salt.
“I’m not a research mage,” Darius said. “Nor do we have the sort of long term containment system this thing needs.”
Donna rubbed her arms. She’d brought a jacket with her to Larry’s house, knowing how cool San Francisco got. This cold wasn’t physical, though. It came from the thought of death magic tainting people she cared about. “This thing definitely needs to be stored securely. But if it is a paradise fruit, and if someone can remove the death magic taint from it…”
“We still don’t want it,” Rest said. “In fact, Larry probably has better claim to it.”
“But he can’t be trusted with it,” Viola said from the doorway. “Kelly-Ann kicked me out. Said I should eat something.”
Gabe had bought groceries, taking Mark with him less because Gabe needed a guide in San Francisco, than because Larry’s two assistants were looking to occupy their time. They felt as if they’d failed their boss.
“You did the best you could with a difficult client,” Rest had reassured them.
Donna had overheard him, and liked how he took the time to talk with the two guys who were out of their depth with the magic happening around them.
Now, Viola echoed Donna’s thoughts that the blame for Larry’s predicament lay solely with him. “I’m going to eat, then I’m going to sleep, then I’m going to kick Larry’s butt for being so stupid. I suggest you all do the same. Well, leave the ass-kicking to me.”
Donna gave her boss a one-armed hug. “What would you like to eat? There’s moussaka that just needs heating up.” It was one of Viola’s comfort foods. Gabe had been smart and bought a range of ready meals as wells as snacks.
“That’ll be fine.” Viola studied the gold bag in its circle of salt. She didn’t touch it. “Most treasures aren’t cursed, you know. The so-called bad luck comes from treasure hunters’ reckless behavior.”
Donna had heard the same warning a hundred times. Larry must have, too, but he’d ignored it. “I’ll phone Vanessa again. See who she can send to assess and contain the paradise fruit.”
The answer to that question arrived on their doorstep at seven o’clock the next morning.
“Olga!” Donna hauled her friend into the house, nodding a quick thanks to Mark who’d responded to the buzz of the security system by contacting Donna and asking if she was expecting anyone. Rest and his team were competent and experienced in things military and magical, but Olga had been head girl at Minervalle School when Donna started there, and Donna still regarded her friend as capable of fixing anything and everything. “I am so glad you’re here.”
Olga Fisher’s hug was brisk. “Vanessa phoned me requesting a containment box. When she explained the reason, I decided to bring it in person. But you look like you’re in one piece.”
“And in love.”
A faint smile curved Olga’s mouth. “Vanessa did mention she suspected as much. Your courier friend?”
“You have to meet Rest. Everyone’s in the kitchen. Except Viola. She’s checking on Larry. Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes. But lead me to the coffee.”
Donna laughed.
Olga looked like what she was, one of the best 13OPS agents in the government’s paranormal bureau. She wore a square-cut, navy-blue trouser suit with elegant yet practical black boots. A shoulder bag over one arm obviously held the containment box. Her brown hair was neatly braided, then wound in a knot. She wore a light dusting of make-up and a collection of rings on her fingers. For all her professionalism, she unabashedly sniffed the air at the aroma of expensive coffee.
“Caffeine fiend,” Donna teased.
“Guilty.”
The light-hearted moment vanished as Donna made introductions. “Agent Olga Fisher.” She hadn’t realized that mentioning Olga’s profession would elicit such a negative response. After all, Olga wasn’t some faceless official. She was Donna’s friend.
“13OPS? Oh, man.” Austin glanced sideways at Darius.
Rest was better than his team. He stood and shook Olga’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Olga ignored everyone else, and their hostility. “Likewise. I have orders to report back on whether you’re good enough for Donna.”
Donna squeaked. “You did not just say that!”
Olga lowered her left eyelid in a suggestion of a wink. “I brought a containment box.” She put her shoulder bag on the counter and withdrew the plain wooden box. “I enchanted it to phoenix fire level, so it should be sufficient.”
If it could survive phoenix fire, it would be.
She set the box down just outside the circle of salt that contained the gold mesh bag that held the remains of the paradise fruit.
Darius’s chair scraped. “Darius Selbourne.” He held out his hand to Olga. “Excuse my lack of manners. I’ve had some bad experiences of 13OPS.”
“I’m aware,” Olga said blandly.
Donna’s eyebrows shot up and she looked a question at Rest.
He shrugged.
Olga and Darius shook hands briefly. The scene was intensely reminiscent of the handshake exchanged by fighters in a ring before the bout started.
Austin snorted a laugh.
Darius got straight down to business. “Do you intend to secure the paradise fruit with 13OPS or one of your Old School network?”
She studied him for a long moment. She didn’t ask if he’d try to stop her taking the fruit if she said 13OPS.
Donna, at least, knew that was Olga’s standard operating procedure. She hated what she called “pissing contests”.
Nor did she play games. Whatever she read in Darius’s face or aura, she finally responded with a single name. “Professor Ancona.”
“He’ll talk to you?” Donna exclaimed. When she noticed that no one else’s expression showed recognition of the man’s name, she added an explanation. “He’s a retired curse-breaker. He was a legend in the field of treasure hunting. After his accident, he specialized in research. If anyone can remove the death magic taint on the paradise fruit it’s him.”
“Can he keep the fruit safe?” Darius asked.
“That’ll be our job,” Olga said. “And by ‘us�
��, I mean the Old School. May I?” She indicated the gold bag with the fruit in it.
Everyone looked at Darius.
He nodded once.
Olga opened the containment box. “Gold is usually an effective protection against death magic. It must have sat in a place saturated with the vile stuff for this to happen.”
Donna shuddered. “It did.”
“Any warnings?” Olga asked, contemplating the gold bag in its circle of salt.
Darius reached over, picked up the bag, and dropped it into the containment box. “No.”
Olga’s lips thinned. She hadn’t been scared of touching the bag. She never showed any fear of anything. Nor did she show her displeasure beyond that second of tight-lipped control before she flipped the lid of the containment box closed, and latched it. “Thanks.”
Darius resumed his seat at the kitchen table.
“Coffee.” Donna poured a mug and handed it to Olga. When Olga sat, so did she. Then beneath the table, she nudged Rest’s foot.
He was such a good man. He picked up the unspoken message. “This Professor Ancona, would it help if I couriered you to him?”
Olga sipped some coffee. “I’d appreciate it. He’s in Australia, a little town on the coast south of Sydney. A courier run would save me a couple of days, plus avoiding the jetlag.”
“No problem.”
There was a beat of silence. Of course, it was Austin who broke it. “Sooo, are you single Agent Fisher?”
Olga eyed him over her coffee mug. “Are you? Never mind.”
He blinked. “Never mind?”
Rest leaned forward, interested.
“You’re a wizard, right? My nana warned me against wizards,” Olga continued.
In the chair next to Austin, Darius’s face went completely blank.
“What did your nana warn you about?” Austin kept his tone teasing, but a bleakness showed in his eyes.
Olga matched the lightness of his tone, but there was no more real humor in her voice than in his. “That a wizard only has one real mistress, and that’s his magic. The more powerful the wizard, the stronger his obsession.” Her gaze slid sideways to Darius, whose hand tightened around his mug till his knuckles whitened. She set her mug down on the table. “Thanks for the coffee. Rest, if I give you the coordinates, could you courier the paradise fruit and me to the professor, now?”
“Yes.” He carefully didn’t look at either of his wizard friends.
Olga and Rest’s departure left an awkwardness in the kitchen. Donna muttered something about checking on Larry and Viola, and only just managed not to look as if she fled the room.
She found Larry awake and talking quietly with Viola. The two looked exhausted, but relaxed. Marriage mightn’t have worked for them, but they remained good friends and important to each other.
“Tell this stubborn woman,” Larry began without a greeting. “That I am fine on my own and she needs breakfast.”
Viola straightened in her chair. “I had a granola bar.” The wrapper lay crumpled on the bedside table.
“You need a real breakfast. Tell Mark to organize a chef. Marcel is—”
“You do not need a chef,” Viola interrupted. “You need a keeper.”
“It’s not for me.” Larry’s skin had sunk over his bones, but he still appeared a hundred percent better than last night, when he’d been as gray as if he was disintegrating to match the paradise fruit’s decay. Now, he had enough energy to bicker. “It’s for everyone who is hovering over me.”
“Huh.” Viola snorted.
Donna pulled up a second chair. “I’ll sit with Larry. Viola, if you don’t want breakfast, are there things you want from home?”
“Tell Mark or Nate and they’ll fetch them,” Larry interjected.
He should have known better. Viola was odd about her home. She had a top floor condo and she didn’t like anyone in it without her present.
Knowing that quirk was why Donna hadn’t volunteered to collect a change of clothing or anything else for her boss.
Viola put her hands on the arms of her chair and heaved herself up. “I would like the chance to shower at home and collect a few things. I left in a rush, last night.” She glared at Larry. “Until Kelly-Ann says you’re recovered, I’ll be staying.”
Larry’s frown faded into a tired smile. He didn’t say “thank you”, but it was there in his eyes. Everyone needed someone they could rely on.
Viola squeezed Donna’s shoulder as she crossed to the door.
Within seconds, Larry’s eyes closed, and he dropped into the deep sleep of exhaustion.
The window provided a glimpse of the bay. Donna stared at the view of cloudy sky and gray-blue sea. San Francisco was a wonderful place to live, and Viola was more friend than employer, but Donna’s life was changing. In the last few days she’d chosen Rest and his team as her future. If she asked, she knew he’d courier her to and from the San Francisco gallery every day, but she’d hate being that dependent on him.
The courier team was still to establish its ground rules. In the military, they’d taken orders that supported their superiors’ decisions. But a civilian courier team could choose to do more than simply courier clients.
“We could go treasure hunting,” she whispered. Chills coursed over her skin. The physical response was a reaction to speaking a secret dream and believing it could come true. She’d hunted treasures with Viola and in response to the gallery’s client requests, but this would be different. This would be about finally having the time and resources—the team—to pursue legendary objects that she’d heard about, but had to ignore.
Treasure hunting wouldn’t be the team’s primary purpose, but it would provide them with independence from client demands and add a luster to their reputation. She could—would—sell the team on the idea.
They were already onboard with using her seer visions. They’d stated their willingness to react to any warning she gave, as with Gabe rescuing the little girl in pink from the lake. However, Donna could go months without a vision or the vision could be about something the team couldn’t help with. For her own self-respect, she needed a way to use her skills of research and exploration, not merely her seer talent, to contribute to the team.
“Donna.” Olga had returned and stood in the doorway. “He’s asleep?”
“Absolutely. He’s just too tired to snore.” Donna smiled and joined Olga at the door. With the room as big as it was, they could talk quietly and privately without waking Larry.
“I have to go,” Olga said. “I’m meant to be in Los Angeles. But I’ll phone you and then I want the whole story.”
“About the temple ruins where—”
Olga bumped her shoulder. “About the courier who looks at you as if he’d die for you.”
Donna stopped deflecting the issue. “I feel the same about Rest. He’s a good guy. The best.”
“I told him if he hurt you, even his courier talent wouldn’t hide him from me.”
The care underlying that statement, even if Olga spoke coolly of her threat, warmed Donna. “Thanks, big sis.”
“Less of the big, pipsqueak.” Olga smiled down at her, the smile dying almost before it started.
Donna turned her head to look down the hallway.
Darius was approaching.
“Phone me,” Olga said. She set off without further good-byes. She and Darius passed each other without either varying their straight path. It was a good thing the hallway was wide. Neither of those two strong characters was going to give an inch, or apparently, acknowledge each other.
“Is Larry awake?” Darius asked.
Donna shifted aside so that he could see the bed. “Fast asleep.”
“I have some questions for him, but they’ll wait. We need to leave.”
She stared at him, picking up an odd note in his voice. “I promised Viola I’d watch Larry while she was gone.”
“Wake up Kelly-Ann.”
“Why? What’s happened? Olga didn’t ment
ion anything.”
Darius’s jaw tightened. “She probably received the news, though. Paul Webb was killed exiting a Washington, DC coffee shop an hour ago. It just hit the darknet chatrooms.”
“Killed how?”
“Officially, it’ll go down as a heart attack. Combat mage hits generally do. The elite wizard mercenaries are heart shockers.”
She knew that, but it was a theoretical knowledge. Darius sounded as if…
Donna shivered. Combat mages weren’t a special type of wizard. They were wizards who’d mastered spells that enabled them to kill quickly and efficiently. Just what type of spells had Darius mastered that had qualified him to lead Rest’s combat courier team in the military? “Where’s Rest?” Why isn’t he the one telling me this?
The sardonic look Darius gave her told her he recognized her discomfort with him. “He’s discussing warding the house with Mark.”
“With Mark?” Larry’s mundane assistant?
“Someone has to upgrade the security on this place. Have you walked through it?” It was a rhetorical question. Of course she had. Darius shook his head in obvious disbelief, and with some of the frustration Larry seemed to elicit so effortlessly from people. “Larry has museum-grade treasures in here, over half of them with a magical element. They need to be protected. Rest was halfway through the discussion when I read the alert as to Webb’s death. He’ll be finished by the time we return downstairs. Now, wake up Kelly-Ann. We’re leaving.”
It wasn’t the tone of command in his voice that got Donna moving. “Watch Larry while I do.” It was the fact that Donna put two and two together and worked out what had Darius stirred up.
The timing of Webb’s death came suspiciously close on the heels of Webb’s subtle declaration of independence from whoever had hired him to employ Rest. If the two were connected, then the team had a chance to follow a new lead to reveal the identity of the mystery man.
Chapter 12
Investigating Paul Webb’s murder for clues as to who’d ordered it proved to be a complicated dance. For a start, the official ruling was, as Darius had anticipated, that Webb had died of natural causes; specifically, of a heart attack. Actually, if things had stayed with the mundane police, things would have been easier.
Desert Devil (Old School Book 5) Page 17
