For Love or Vengeance

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Helene cradled Miguel close, tightening her arms around his back. The blue of his aura had darkened and grown larger. So large it completely enveloped her in its heated glow.

  She reveled in that energy, absorbing it as they kissed and caressed. She let it take hold deep in her center, until with a surge as bright as a supernova, that energy burst in an explosion of pleasure and took them both over the edge.

  Breathless, she snuggled under his body, feeling the aftershocks of her climax massage him as he nestled within her.

  A contented groan slipped from his lips, and he splayed his hand across the small of her back to keep her close. “That was—”

  “Beautiful,” she said, almost afraid that by putting words to it, they might reduce the wonder of what had just happened.

  He was silent for a moment. Then, with a ragged sigh, he said, “I think I’m falling in love.”

  An expectant silence followed, growing ever more potent, until she finally admitted, “I think I am, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “This is so not good,” Athena said as the clouds trembled beneath the gathering of goddesses, a sign of the growing disturbance from Nemesis’s chaotic emotions.

  “It’s worse than you think,” Hera told the others who were gathered around her to discuss Nemesis’s plight.

  “How can it possibly be worse?” asked Amphitrite, Poseidon’s wife and granddaughter of the Titan Oceanus.

  “Zeus made her take a solemn vow to exact justice on Earth. If she fails, as punishment her time on Earth as a goddess will come to an end,” Hera explained.

  The goddesses seemed puzzled. “Why is that bad?” Athena asked. “Then she’ll come home to Mount Olympus and—”

  A gasped “No!” cut her off, and Artemis, always one of the brightest, said, “If she fails she becomes mortal.”

  A chorus of horrified exclamations swept through Hera’s chamber.

  “Yes, Nemesis becomes mortal, and as vulnerable as the rest of those puny beings,” she confirmed with rising fear for her daughter.

  Persephone murmured softly, “But that means she can die. Hades and I will, of course, gladly welcome her to join the Erinnyes, and continue to mete out justice—”

  “I do not want my daughter to die,” Hera replied gravely, planting her gaze on each goddess in turn. “Our time is not like human time. One of their heartbeats can last days in our world.”

  “And in the span of that human heartbeat—” Artemis began.

  “We must force Zeus to keep her safe,” Hera finished, command ringing in her voice.

  “Force Zeus?” Hestia asked, wringing her hands, fearful of her brother as always.

  “Yes, force Zeus. Come closer,” Hera said, urging them into a tighter circle. “Let me tell you my plan.”

  Miguel knew the moment Helene left his side in the morning. He got the strangest sensation in his chest, as if the connection between them stretched tighter and tighter, until it finally snapped when she closed the bathroom door.

  He rolled onto his back, listening to her morning sounds. The soft flush, and rush of water in the sink. The quiet snick of the glass shower door and the harder rat-a-tat of the spray.

  He imagined her beneath the pulsing stream, her body slick with soap, her skin heated.

  His erection came to life once again—amazing, considering their long night of lovemaking. Would he always desire her like this? If he hadn’t been a logical man, he might believe she had cast some kind of spell on him to make him want her so badly and so often.

  But she probably needed a break from him. So he reached down and slowly stroked himself to try and relieve the ache of need. And imagined what it would be like to be with her in the shower.

  Helene felt Miguel’s arousal all the way to the bathroom. The bond between them had grown strong during the night, joining them in ways she had not expected.

  She closed her eyes and reached out along the wispy tendrils of energy that still united them. Surprise jolted her when she felt him pleasuring himself. Why would he—

  Of course. He was avoiding her because he thought she needed distance from him. Because she always had before.

  As his desire grew, so did hers. Driving her to lean back against the shower wall and touch herself. She stroked and rubbed her lips and the nub between her legs to try and appease the need he was creating in her, but it was empty want without him to help. Or better yet, inside her.

  “Miguel,” she called out, her voice husky from the mix of sleep and desire.

  She sensed him rise from the bed, his steps cautious until he reached the door to the bathroom and opened it.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping into the room and grabbing a towel to hide the magnificent proof of his desire.

  With a shaky hand, she rubbed the steam from the clear glass to reveal herself. To give him a glimpse as she continued trying to relieve her need.

  The towel dropped from his hand and his mouth fell open as he feasted on the sight of her.

  “I need you,” she said, and held her hand out to him.

  She had expected haste. Most men would not have delayed for a second to join her, but she should have known better. Miguel was not like most men.

  With a patience she would not have had, he approached the enclosure and stopped, gazing at her through the glass and the swirl of steam and spray. Slowly, he opened the door and stepped in. Closing the distance between them, he laid his big hand on her wet midsection.

  She shuddered from his touch, her gaze still locked with his.

  Nudging her legs apart with a knee, he slowly lowered his hand and took the place of hers at the center of her need. His eyes darkened as he moved and pressed his fingers against her, into her, until she was so close to coming she had to grab hold of his hand to stop him.

  “I want you inside me. I want to come with you inside me.” She wrapped her soapy hand around him, squeezed along the length of him until she reached the head and felt the slick moisture there, testament to how close he was to his own release.

  “Sweet Jesus, Helene.” The words exploded from his mouth.

  “Come with me,” she urged.

  All patience fled Miguel. With a groan, he stepped into her, bent his knees, and drove up into her sweet heat while cradling her back with his hands. God, what she did to him!

  He braced her against the wall and she gripped his shoulders, bringing one leg up around his thigh. It felt so good he had to hold still for a long moment to regain control.

  Finally he began to move, stroking slowly at first, building the pleasure, drawing them ever higher, faster and faster, until they were rocking their hips together wildly, rushing toward climax.

  When it came, his knees nearly buckled from the force of it. She clung to him and they both leaned heavily against the shower wall to stay upright as their racing hearts gradually slowed.

  “My God, woman,” he groaned. “You are incredible.” He started to pull away.

  “Right back at you.” She tugged him back beneath the warm waters of the shower and bathed him. He returned the favor, washing her with soapy hands that would have roused desire again, but when they were finished and she kissed him, he could feel that both of them had started thinking again of the case that waited for them to solve. The sun was coming up, and it was time to get to the office.

  After they dried off, Helene hurried from the bathroom. He wondered what was up, until he walked out and saw a brand-new shirt laid out on his side of the bed next to his suit. A pale green shirt this time.

  “Thank you. I think,” he teased as he picked it up and pursed his lips at the color.

  She touched the middle of his chest, and a shadow of worry flitted through her gaze, then quickly vanished. “The green will bring out the color of your eyes,” she said. She looked up and a blush raced across her cheeks.

  She’d noticed the color of his eyes? He smiled, because he had definitely noticed hers. Dark and rich as cocoa. And now glittering
with happiness.

  He gave her a thank-you kiss. Afterward, they enjoyed the intimacy of putting on their clothes together, and the very feminine rituals she completed with her hair and makeup before they were ready to head out.

  He glanced at his watch as they stood by the elevator. It was barely five in the morning, and yet he didn’t feel tired. There was something energizing about being with her. He pulled her close and kissed her as they waited. Not a sexual kiss, but a kiss of true affection.

  “What was that for?” she asked uncertainly, obviously noticing the difference.

  His heart nearly broke that she was so unused to anyone treating her with such tenderness that she wasn’t sure what it meant.

  “For a good morning,” he said, knowing she would shy away from anything more intense or personal.

  “Well, okay,” she said with a sweet smile, and surprised him by leaning in and kissing him back, a little more deeply.

  As she pulled away and swiped her thumb across his lips to remove the trace of her lipstick, he raised a brow in question.

  She winked. “Just for good morning.”

  He smiled and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She tightened her hold and grinned back at him.

  Oh yeah. It was definitely going to be a wonderful day.

  When Helene and Miguel walked into the war room, she was shocked to see a woman sitting at the table with the contents of several files spread out around her.

  Miguel quickly dropped Helene’s hand and she straightened, going into professional mode. “Special Agent Reyes,” she said, recognizing the woman when she turned around.

  “Good morning,” Reyes greeted them.

  “Tell us you haven’t been here all night,” Miguel said, approaching the table and setting down the stack of folders they’d taken home with them to go over.

  “Afraid so. I do some of my best work at night. I reviewed all the information on the murder boards, and your notes on the case,” she said, motioning to the papers. “The ones that were here. You two have done a great job.”

  Helene was a little surprised by the comment. Being the new kids on the block, she had expected Reyes to challenge their authority, or maybe find fault. She suspected the other woman didn’t play well with others any more than she did. She let her shoulders relax. “Thanks.”

  “I’m going to get some coffee. Would either of you like some?” Miguel asked.

  “Sure,” she and Reyes said together.

  Miguel strode out, leaving the two of them regarding one another warily.

  Reyes started gathering the papers and said, “Don’t worry. I’m still not here to take over your case. You requested help, and ADIC Hernandez asked me to lend a hand.”

  “Miguel and I have it under control,” Helene said, but the words lacked sting because her goddess sight sensed that the woman had no hidden agenda and wasn’t a threat. And they had asked for help, after all.

  “Well. You may have the case under control, but…” Reyes hesitated, obviously unsure if she should continue. “Being involved with your partner? Never a good idea.”

  “We didn’t expect it to happen,” Helene admitted, and met the other agent’s gaze squarely. “But we’re dealing.”

  Touching her arm, Reyes said, “Just don’t let it interfere with your judgment.”

  Helene jerked back in astonishment, both at the words and the glitter of energy in her touch. There was absolutely something different about her. No way was she mortal. And wasn’t the warning exactly what Helene had been telling herself since meeting Miguel? With a rush of insight, she realized Special Agent Reyes was much more like her than she had ever expected. For some inexplicable reason, Helene suddenly felt as if she had an ally.

  “Good advice,” she said, then added, “And please, call me Helene.”

  Reyes smiled and replied, “Thanks, Helene. And I’m Diana.”

  “Okay, Diana.” She gestured to the papers on the table. “Any thoughts on the case?”

  With a shrug, Diana said, “You guys have covered all the bases. As for this Gold character and his assistant, I trust your gut reaction.” They exchanged a meaningful glance. “I’ll start the background check on both of them that you mentioned yesterday you wanted and run them through all the databases.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said just as Miguel returned with a tray loaded with coffees, sweeteners, and creamers.

  “What’s a plan?” he asked as he slid the tray on the table.

  “Diana is going to run that check on Gold and his assistant while you and I quiz the locals.”

  “Starting with my boyfriend, Jeff?” he said with a grin, and snared a coffee from the tray.

  At Diana’s hiked eyebrows, Helene rolled her eyes. “A guy at a music shop has a crush on my partner. Luckily, Jeff is a font of information about everything going on in the Theatre District.”

  “Gotta love the fan boys. You’ll pass on anything you get from him?” Diana grabbed a coffee and sat back down at the table.

  “Yep. Want to review what we’ve got so far?” Helene asked. “We had some of our files with us last night, so there may be gaps in what you know.”

  Diana’s lips curved up at the implication, but just said, “Sounds good. I’m sure I’ll have a few questions.”

  Helene tipped her head at Miguel. “Why don’t you start?” They’d never actually gotten around to discussing the case last night, and she wanted to hear his take on things, especially about the poses. She was convinced he was on the right track with that, and frustrated that they hadn’t been able to figure out what the poses meant.

  She leaned back and listened to his deep voice as he detailed the facts of the case. She admired his intelligence and his competency. She also admired how hot he looked. She’d been right about the shirt. It brought out the green in his eyes.

  It made her acknowledge that Diana was right on the money about how her feelings for him might interfere with her judgment.

  Spending time with him, becoming involved with him, had changed her. A lot. She didn’t feel alone anymore, as she had for nearly two thousand years. She felt safe. And for the first time…she felt happy.

  And that was why these feelings, these unexpectedly powerful human emotions, might prove threatening. And mess with her ability to fulfill her mission. Who wanted to hunt down bad guys when you could lounge in bed instead, with the man you—

  Hell no. Not going there. She marshaled those unfamiliar, worrisome feelings, tamped them firmly down where they belonged, and pulled her thoughts back to the case. Somehow, she had to get her perspective back. And her single-minded determination. Otherwise…

  She didn’t know how she would ever complete her mission.

  But if she failed, she’d be taken away from Earth—and Miguel—forever.

  And then she didn’t know how she would go on living.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “What can I help you with, Special Agent Sanchez?” Jeff asked with an emphasis on “special” as Miguel approached the register.

  Beside him, Helene laid out the business cards from three of the shops they had visited the day before, including the one from Tim Gold’s memorabilia shop.

  Jeff nearly sneered at her, obviously wishing she would go away. Not a chance. She didn’t like the way the clerk was staring at her partner—with even more lust in his eyes than last time.

  “What can you tell us about these shops?” she asked, keeping her cool.

  Jeff did sneer at that and totally ignored her until Miguel said, “Give us a break, Jeff. Just answer the question.”

  The young man reluctantly scanned the business cards, moving them around on the glass surface of the counter. He tapped his index finger on two of them. “These shops are typical tourist schlock—T-shirts, counterfeit posters, and other crap.”

  Which left only the card from Gold’s shop. “What about this place?” Miguel asked, then with a frown asked Helene, “What was the guy’s name again?”
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  “Gold. Tim Gold,” Jeff immediately answered, but he turned up his nose in derision.

  “You’ve got a problem with Gold?” Helene asked.

  Jeff shrugged. “He’s got a great shop. Stage Left has quality goods and lots of authentic pieces of Broadway memorabilia. But he lets you know it every time you talk to him.” With a theatrical wave of his hands and dramatic pose, Jeff added, “He’s old Broadway. His family was on the stage for generations.”

  “You don’t care for him much, I gather,” Miguel said.

  “Not much. Although you’ve got to feel sorry for the bastard.”

  Helene scooped up the business cards. “Why’s that?”

  Jeff shrugged. “Rumor has it Gold was going to be the next big thing until he had some kind of freak accident backstage.”

  “Is that why he’s in a wheelchair?” Miguel asked.

  “I think so.”

  She and Miguel exchanged a look. An acting-related accident might easily make someone bitter. Maybe even angry enough to lash out at those who were living his crushed dream.

  “Who else works at Stage Left?” she asked, thinking they should interview someone closer to Gold to find out.

  Jeff shuddered. “Just Andrew.”

  “The one with all the tattoos and piercings?” Miguel asked.

  Jeff nodded. “The guy’s a raving psycho. You should be watching him.”

  “Why do you say that?” Helene asked, pulling out a notepad and pen.

  “He got into a huge fight down on Christopher Street. Beat up some guys pretty badly because they thought he was gay and tried to pick him up.” Jeff made a disgusted face. “Fucking bigot.”

  “You witnessed it?” she asked.

  With a graceful flick of his hand, Jeff said, “Not me. I wouldn’t go anyplace where guys look like Andrew. I’m more the Wall Street type.”

  No shocker there. Jeff had been nicely put together both times they’d seen him—pressed shirts, elegant ties, and expensive pants. A Goth like Andrew would not be his thing. But Miguel totally was. Which annoyed the hell out of her as Jeff eyeballed her partner again.

  “Do you know Andrew’s last name?” she asked, trying not to grit her teeth.