Flirting With Fate

by Lexi Ryan

  He may have gained enough clout to meet the Keeper, but he wasn’t to be trusted with the Keeper’s location. He understood, and he was satisfied with working his way up slowly, satisfied with gaining trust slowly.

  He’d successfully completed his mission and maybe now he could be one of the few to know what the Keeper was planning.

  Bobby was nearly salivating, imagining the reward the Keeper would give him for his work tonight. It was known that he gave powers to the best of his workers.

  He was surprised when they escorted him into a casual sitting room. The man in the room was younger than Bobby—maybe mid-twenties?—but the way he sat in the room’s only chair suggested he was the most important person in the building.

  Dude needed to get over himself. This was the Keeper’s place, and this man couldn’t be anything more than a peon to the Ascendants’ true leader. Nevertheless, the man motioned to the couch across from him as if he owned the place.

  “Please, sit.”

  Bobby smiled. “No, thank you, sir. I’ll stand until the Keeper joins us.”

  The man chuckled and exchanged a look with the security men. When he looked back at Bobby his face was hard. “Sit.”

  Bobby swallowed, suddenly realizing he wasn’t going to get the hero’s welcome he’d anticipated. He lowered himself to the couch and put the satchel on his lap. He swallowed. “I did as I was asked.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Did you?”

  “Yes, sir. I was sent to retrieve the journal and I did.” He patted the satchel.

  “And did you erase her memory of the journal? Did you erase her memory of these messages she was finding in its pages?”

  Bobby swallowed. “No, sir. I was interrupted—”

  The man put up a hand. “I don’t take excuses.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

  He leaned forward, studying Bobby’s face. “Do you know who I am?”

  Bobby shifted his weight, wondering how the hell he was supposed to answer that question. “No, sir,” he admitted, even though he was pretty sure that was the wrong answer.

  The man just seemed amused by that, exchanging smiles with security, but again his chuckle turned to a scowl as soon as he addressed Bobby again. “Is that it?” he asked, looking at the satchel.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man ran his hand over his face. “Do you know why you were chosen for this mission?”

  Bobby looked around, wishing he had a drink of water. He tugged at his shirt collar. “Because of my ability, sir.”

  “Yes.” The intensity of his glare left Bobby’s face feeling scorched. “You were not chosen for your brute strength. Had I known that you had no finesse, you’d have never been chosen for the job.”

  Had I known. Who did this guy think he was?

  The answer came to Bobby right on the heels of the question. Oh, fuck. “You’re the—? I thought you were supposed to be—” He swallowed.

  “Old?” the Keeper supplied.

  Bobby knew he shouldn’t respond. “I apologize, sir, if there was a misunderstanding. I was under the impression that I was to get the journal by any means—” His words were cut off when the Keeper lifted his hand and at the same time, Bobby’s airflow was cut off.

  “You risked everything tonight. You understand? Everything. The Keys are not to be harmed. Without them, forty years of planning and twenty-seven years of careful, tireless implementation are wasted. You understand?”

  The grip at his neck tightened, making Bobby gag as he sought breath. Instinctively, Bobby’s fingers went to his neck, but there was nothing there to pull away. He couldn’t stop the man from choking him.

  “You had a simple task. Get the journal and make the girl forget she’d ever had it.” The man stood and released his mental hold.

  Bobby gasped air into his lungs again. It felt as painful as it did glorious.

  The Keeper flicked his wrist and suddenly the satchel was in his hands. “You’ve served your purpose,” he said, opening the bag. His head snapped up and, again, his mental hold was at Bobby’s neck. “Where is it?”

  Bobby motioned wildly to the bag, but he couldn’t form words, couldn’t breathe.

  “You failed on all counts,” the Keeper said. “I don’t tolerate failure.” He turned to the guards and said, “Give him to someone who can use his power.”

  Free to breathe again, Bobby choked out, “But I—” The words scraped his bruised throat and security cut him off, dragging him out of the room.

  Why wasn’t the journal in the bag? He hadn’t let the bag out of his sight.

  ***

  When Josie awoke, she was in her bed, and dusk was falling outside her window.

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes. From a chair next to the bed, Tanner stirred, bare-chested and beautiful.

  She smiled. Some people didn’t like the word beautiful for men, but a body like Tanner’s made every other word fall short. He was tall and lean but sculpted. She wanted to feel those hard planes of muscle under her hands. She was ready to know what it was like to run her nails over his abs as she found her way to cup his balls. She wanted to feel his back flex as he drove into her.

  She chewed her bottom lip, feeling herself go wet at her thoughts. Maybe it was the healing or maybe it was knowing she’d fallen asleep on the couch, and he’d moved her to her bed. Maybe it was seeing that he’d tucked her in and pulled a chair in from the living room to sit by her as she slept. Whatever it was, she was ready to throw out her reservations and feel every sensation, every pleasure her visions promised.

  He opened his eyes and she smiled. “You didn’t have to stay,” she said, twisting the blankets in her lap.

  “You know the dangers of such a drastic healing,” he said, rubbing his eyes. His voice had that morning gravel in it, the kind a girl wanted to feel as a man’s chest rumbled against her cheek.

  “You didn’t have to sleep in the chair,” she said, wondering that he hadn’t chosen to climb into bed and hold her.

  “I wouldn’t have slept at all if I’d gone home.” He cocked his head. “It worries me that you didn’t take more precautions.”

  Josie nodded. “Alyson’s good,” she said, but he was right. Healers focused so much peaceful energy into their subject that sometimes the subject slipped into too deep of a sleep. Sometimes the subject—particularly if the injury was great—never woke up. It was a relatively minor risk with a Healer as experienced as Alyson, but trusting a newly turned healer could be fatal. They just couldn’t focus their energy yet. “Alyson’s been healing for thirty years.”

  Tanner shook his head. “I don’t care if she’s been doing it for one hundred years. I wouldn’t have left you alone.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head.

  Josie resisted the urge to lick her lips at the sight of him bare-chested, jeans slung low on his hips. She swallowed. She wanted to reach out and touch the hair that tapered into a long line over his hard stomach and disappeared beneath the band in his jeans.

  He dropped his arms and looked at her, catching her staring at that aptly named trail of hair.

  When I’m inside you for the first time...

  Words a girl didn’t soon forget.

  “Can I make us some coffee?” His smirk was his only acknowledgement of the way she’d been looking at him.

  “Coffee would be great.” She put a hand to her hair. She had to look a mess. “Would you think I was a terrible hostess if I jumped in a quick shower? I smell like a hospital.” And she could still smell her attacker on her, but she didn’t want to remind Tanner of the man.

  “Of course not.” He turned toward the kitchen.

  “Tanner?”

  He faced her and she was taken aback by how quickly heat bloomed in his eyes. She’d been intending to thank him for staying while she slept, but the look in his eyes had her thinking inviting him into the shower would be more fun.

  The silence pulsed between them until finally she said, “You could
have slept in the bed. There’s plenty of room.”

  He closed the space between them in two strides and extended his hand for hers. She took it, allowing him to help her from the bed to her feet. He pulled her body against his. “Are you looking?” he asked, pressing his palm flat against hers.

  “Looking?”

  “Use your ability, Josie,” he urged, the heat of his large hand warming her small one. “I want you to see what I already know.”

  She closed her eyes and let her wall drop. She gasped as the vision hit her.

  His face was between her legs and his eyes locked with hers as he slid his tongue over her clit. She rocked her hips against his mouth and grabbed her own breast, rolling her nipple under her finger to increase the delicious sensation pumping through her body. He pressed closer and nuzzled her sex, his tongue moving and exploring in ways that sent delicious shockwaves through her body.

  His thumbs pressed against her inner thighs, willing her legs to open further for him.

  Josie’s pulse kicked up and she blinked as she looked into his eyes. She’d enjoyed the vision of his mouth on her more than she’d ever enjoyed another man doing it in person.

  A smile curved Tanner’s lips. “You see us together, don’t you?” He lowered his mouth to her ear and his lips brushed against it as he spoke. “So, you see, when I have you in bed with me, I have plans that involve very little sleeping.”

  Josie wanted to ask what he was waiting for but stopped herself. She was going to give into this. She knew that. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to have a bad case of morning breath and bed-head when she did.

  “I like my coffee strong,” she said before turning toward her shower and swaying her hips a little more than necessary as she walked away.

  ***

  Quinton Greyly was on his third scotch and it was only seven o’clock. Normally, he was a man who preferred to maintain control in all situations, but the last twelve hours had kicked that preference in the balls.

  It had been four years since he’d seen Mallory. Four years since he’d tasted her. And yet every day he remembered her face and her taste like he’d woken up with her in his bed.

  So it was understandable, he figured, that when he’d walked in to the ER to take Josie Bovard’s statement, he’d been floored. The woman could have been Mallory’s twin. Hell, she could have been Mallory herself.

  He stared down at the picture of the blonde he’d fallen in love with during a semester abroad in France. Blue eyes, soft, plump lips, curves made for a man’s hands, and a laugh that sent his heart soaring.

  He’d left her. She’d had some of the most fucked-up daddy issues he’d ever come into contact with, and he couldn’t deal with it. So he’d left her. He’d left Mallory, he’d left France, and he’d left foolish notions of love and happily ever after.

  Quinton wished he could say he hadn’t thought of her since then, but it’d be a lie. He’d thought of her almost constantly when he’d returned to the States, then a little less as the months went by. But he’d never stopped thinking of her, and never stopped second-guessing his decision to leave.

  A week ago, he’d been down at the Metro and through the crowd he’d seen her. Or thought he had. He’d followed her and lost her just as quickly as he’d convinced himself he’d seen her face.

  Then this morning he’d met a woman who looked exactly like his first love, and she hadn’t acted as if she recognized him at all.

  He wanted to drop this insane train of thought, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because when he’d called her Mallory, she’d responded, and something like fear had flashed in her eyes.

  He had to know. If there was any chance Josie and Mallory were the same person—it was a ridiculous thought, but he had to know.

  He needed to convince himself this woman wasn’t the one he’d once loved. He scanned to file on his table and placed his finger on her address. He knew where to find the proof he needed.

  Chapter Eight

  The Jumper frowned at Tanner. “I don’t know, man.” He pulled his hand down over his face. “The SIA gets all pissy when I use my power. They’re all like, ‘It changes everything. You can’t play God. Blah blah blah.’” He cocked his head and slowly a grin replaced his stoner stare. “But wait, that was you saying those things.”

  Tanner took a deep breath, wondering for the hundredth time why he was doing this. It was just a journal. But, without it, Josie had lost her only connection to her family. As someone who didn’t have any connections himself, he understood how important it was.

  But also, if the bastard who attacked her had what he wanted, Tanner might never find out who he was. And Tanner was determined to find him.

  “I’m asking you to make a one-time exception,” Tanner said, dredging up the last of his patience.

  “So you just want me to go and grab the journal?”

  “From him. You have to take it from him, or he’ll think she still has it and she’ll be in danger.” And God help the fucker if he was stupid enough to come after her again.

  “What else?”

  Tanner shook his head. “Just take it and meet me here at this time and give it to me.”

  The Jumper nodded and reached behind him. “Easy enough, dude,” he said. “Now my payment?”

  “Okay, go ahead, but don’t change anything else,” Tanner warned, knowing that wasn’t possible. All the Jumper wanted was to go back and impregnate his wife before she got uterine cancer. They were childless and it was a simple thing he wanted for his wife.

  Tanner just hoped the kid wouldn’t be the next Hitler.

  “Here you go,” The Trapped said, pulling the leather-bound journal from his bag.

  Tanner blinked. Time travel hurt his brain, no question about it.

  “Now, I’ve gotta go. Little Joey is teething and it’s wearing his mom out.”

  Tanner flipped open the journal. “Thanks,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone I was here.”

  The Jumper chuckled. “Dude, they’ll never know it wasn’t always this way.”

  ***

  When Josie got out of the shower, the smell of coffee filled her apartment, warm biscuits sat on the counter, and Tanner was nowhere to be found. He’d left her a note under her mug:

  So sorry I had to go. I need to take care of something. I’ll check on you later.

  She shook her head. She wanted him to do a lot more than check on her, but that would have to wait.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee and had taken a single sip when the doorbell rang.

  “That was fast,” she called, running to the door.

  She was in nothing but her satin robe—which she’d chosen because it matched her eyes and looked good with her complexion—and her hair fell in damp waves around her shoulders. A quick glance down confirmed that her nipples showed through the satin. Mission accomplished.

  She was done playing games. She was done waiting. She was ready for Tanner.

  “I’m glad you didn’t make me wait,” she said, pulling the door open. She froze.

  Definitely not Tanner. Shit.

  On the other side of her door stood the man Tanner had decked in the fertility clinic.

  “Can I help you?”

  The gray-haired gentleman gave her a soft smile and extended a hand. “My name is Dr. Martin. I believe we met in my office last night.”

  Her heart pounded. She looked at his hand but didn’t take it. “I’m sorry?” Playing the dumb blonde worked nine times out of ten, but even as she took up the act, she covered her breasts with her arms.

  “I don’t mean to intrude, but I assume you were in my lab because you wanted to know about your parents.”

  Josie’s breath caught. This was the one. She’d found him. “What do you know about my parents?”

  Martin chewed on the inside of his cheek and flashed a nervous glance over his shoulder. “May I come in?”

  Her hands shook as she pulled the door open wider. “Okay.”

  Sh
e led him to the living room, and he lowered himself into a chair.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened to your family,” he said.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  He shook his head. “It was senseless.”

  “What do you know about my mother’s plans?” she asked. She needed to know.

  “I know she planned on running away, planned on making you a different person before you ran.”

  “Were you the one who was going to do the conversion?”

  He sighed. “The procedure is very dangerous.”

  “But you can do it?”

  “I was going to try.”

  She swallowed. “Can you still do it?” The words tasted bitter on her tongue. It didn’t matter that it was the right thing to do. Part of her prayed he’d tell her it couldn’t be done.

  He shifted in the chair, leaning forward so he was looking at the floor. “I could, but I won’t.”

  “Are you working for them?

  “Who—what? No.” He shook his head. “I won’t do it because it’s not necessary anymore.”

  “Her journal said I would be the catalyst for the Ascendants’ rise to power. They want what? My blood?” She shook her head. Six months ago she’d seen exactly what they’d had in mind for a world where Ascendants ruled. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Martin looked up at her. “Forgive me for saying this, but you’re no longer a virgin, am I correct?”

  Josie almost rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-six.”

  “Your blood is useless to them if you’re not a virgin.”

  “But I wasn’t a virgin when my mother was making plans for DNA conversion. I’d just started having visions…”

  “I didn’t know. Your mother didn’t tell me.”

  She shook her head. “She didn’t know I’d had sex, but I told her about my vision.”

  “She didn’t know the significance of your virginity, only that you were in danger.”

  “Who? Do you know? Who killed my family?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”