Annoyance flashed in Astrid’s eyes. She shrugged. “What can I say? I faked it. Didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“There was nothing fake about how hard I made you come that night.” She’d milked him to the point where he’d exploded from somewhere so deep inside himself he thought he’d never get hard again. Which he had, only a few minutes after they’d finished the first time.
And for the record, there had been more rounds after that.
Astrid gave him a sideways glance, then turned toward the bartender who’d showed up with a bottle of Bordeaux. “Thank you kindly.” She gave him a full-wattage smile. The guy, who was barely old enough to drink himself, blushed to the roots of his hair.
Luke rapped his knuckles on the bar to get the young bartender’s attention. It took a few seconds, but eventually the kid turned his way. “I’ll have what she’s having, and put hers on my bill.”
“Certainly.” The guy quickly hustled up a stemmed glass and filled it with the rich red wine.
Luke lightly tapped his glass to Astrid’s before taking a sip. He closed his eyes, pretending to savor the taste. When he opened them again, Astrid was watching his lips intently. Naked hunger blazed in her eyes until she lowered her lids, shielding her gaze from his view. His groin tightened. She obviously wanted him as much as he wanted her. So why the attitude?
He knew why he should stay away from her. Sleeping with her would complicate his mission. But why did she resist the strong pull between them? Maybe she was still ticked because he’d bolted the morning following their night together. He should apologize, but he couldn’t tell her the real reason he’d had to go. An informant had texted him with a tip. It had turned out to be nothing, and he’d hauled ass back to his apartment. By then, Astrid had already left. She’d even made the bed, as if she wanted to erase all signs of having spent the night.
“So, where’s your tall, handsome sidekick tonight?” She sipped her wine, not looking at him.
Luke was busy watching the tip of her tongue catch a wayward drop. It took a little while for her words to register. “Who?”
She threw him a glance and quirked an eyebrow. “Your bodyguard.” She put the wineglass back on the bar.
“Oh, you mean Rex.” The massive man was actually the head of his club’s security team but sometimes acted as bodyguard when Luke’s nightclub owner persona had a meeting. “He’s managing the club while I’m away. You’ll have to be content with just me tonight.” Not able to resist her bare skin beckoning to him, he ran his index finger down her arm and watched goose bumps rise in its wake. He barely kept himself from giving in to the powerful urge to press his lips against her warm, sun-kissed skin. He cleared his throat to cover his loss of composure. It was ridiculous how drawn he was to her.
She pulled away and looked at him across her shoulder. “What the hell was that?” she asked.
“I just like touching you.” Inside, he cringed. He sounded like a lovestruck teenager.
Her eyes glittered dangerously. “You haven’t earned the right to touch without asking permission.”
He flashed her a grin, the disarming one he used when questioning unsuspecting females. “May I?”
She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, she reached for her wineglass. She took a long sip. “That’s not a good idea.” The tic in her jaw was back.
“I disagree.” He leaned forward, careful not to touch her, but close enough to share his body heat. “Come back with me to my hotel. I’m staying at the Warwick.”
“That’s definitely a bad idea.”
“Okay, I’ll come to your hotel. Where are you staying?” He already knew she was at the same hotel. That’s why he’d booked a room there.
“Does that line ever work?”
“You tell me. I’ve never used it before.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have time for your games.” She leaned away from him.
He immediately felt cold. “Let’s start over.” He kept his tone light and friendly. “What brings you to Denver?”
Astrid went unnaturally still. She made a production of drinking the last of her wine and then pushed the glass away from her. “I’m here on business.”
“And what is it you do? We didn’t have a chance to talk about our jobs during our date.” He willed her to look at him, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. From her profile, he couldn’t tell her mood. He leaned down and lowered his voice. “Actually, there wasn’t much talking at all.”
She turned to face him, her eyes flashing. “That was most definitely not a date.” Before she had a chance to say anything more, the maître d’ approached. “Mademoiselle, your table is ready.” The slim man quirked an eyebrow. “Will monsieur be joining you?”
“No.” Astrid’s answer cracked the air like a whip. She gracefully uncrossed her legs and stood. “Monsieur has already had his dinner.” She plastered a fake smile on her lips. “Thank you ever so much for the wine though,” she said to Luke before following the maître d’ down the steps and into the main part of the restaurant.
All Luke could do was watch her delectable backside as she walked away from him, gracefully navigating her way between the tables. She’d won a small victory, but the battle was far from over.
He returned to his own table and sat down. If Astrid thought this brief interlude would cause him to back off, she was in for a surprise.
Broden pushed a small black folder toward Luke. “Since you asked me out, it’s only fair that you pay.”
Luke placed his credit card in the holder without looking at the check.
“I take it the lady did not care for your company tonight?” Broden’s words dripped with sarcasm.
“She had other plans,” Luke said. “We need to hustle back to the hotel so we can search her room before she returns. I want to put a tracker on her car too.” The ones he’d placed on her car in Pine Rapids kept disappearing. She must have discovered and removed them.
“Does that mean I don’t get dessert?”
Luke gave Broden a hard stare meant to shut him up, but the man had no sense of self-preservation. “Some date you turned out to be,” Broden whined. “You leave me alone for most of the night and then won’t buy me dessert. No wonder the lady doesn’t want you. Do I at least get a good-night kiss when you drop me off at my house?”
Luke closed his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”
“That bad, huh.” Broden’s voice was now laced with genuine laughter. “This girl really has you in knots. Remind me to buy some popcorn. This is going to be fun to watch.”
Luke decided it was safer to remain quiet. If he didn’t, he may punctuate his next statement with a fist to Broden’s jaw.
* * *
Half an hour later, Luke was looking around Astrid’s hotel room. It was a mirror image of his own. Same thick, beige carpet offset by gold-and-rust draperies that also contrasted nicely with the white walls. The drapes matched the bedspread, although his bed wasn’t rumpled and smelling deliciously of that same combination of a flowery fragrance and Astrid’s unique scent that he’d inhaled earlier at the restaurant. He dragged his mind away from the erotic images the unmade bed and Astrid’s naked body inspired. She could be heading back to the hotel soon, so he had to hustle if he wanted to do a complete search. Broden had installed a tracker on her car and then headed home. This one was extra hidden.
There wasn’t much of Astrid’s stuff to look through. A pair of jeans lay perfectly folded on a chair, a leather jacket draped across its back. In one of the dresser drawers, he found a supply of clean underwear in bold satin colors, some clean T-shirts, and a colorful silk scarf. The other drawers were empty. The lady traveled light, but even this small bundle of clothes needed a bag. She hadn’t had one with her at the restaurant, not even a purse, so what had she packed in? He searched the room again, but couldn’t find an
y luggage anywhere, not even under the bed.
Returning to the dresser, he pawed through her silky bras and panties and tried not to feel like a pervert when the smooth silk running through his fingers evoked yet another hot memory of his one night with Astrid. She’d worn a hot-pink bra and a matching minuscule thong that had burned images permanently into his mind. He swallowed and adjusted his pants when the crotch started to feel uncomfortably tight.
Between the T-shirts, he felt a hard lump and pulled out a Leatherman multitool. Unfolded, the mini pliers fit comfortably in his hand. He studied its many Swiss Army–like accessories one by one and noticed small specks of white paint on one of the flat screwdriver heads.
The hotel room had several vent covers, but they were fairly small and fastened with Phillips-head screws. Luke went into the bathroom and studied the large vent covering the extractor fan. All six screws were of the flat-head kind. He dragged in a chair, quickly removed the cover, and then pulled out a duffel bag hidden inside the ceiling space.
Astrid did travel with luggage—filled with a sword, several daggers, and two Glock 22s. He copied down the guns’ serial numbers and replaced the bag and the multitool where he’d found them. Figuring out what Astrid was doing in Denver moved to the top of his to-do list. What kind of business trip required a small personal armory?
Chapter 3
Astrid paced the office of Dr. Rosen, Scott’s personal physician. She briefly paused by the huge picture window and admired the majestic view of the Rocky Mountains. The exclusive clinic was only two hours’ drive from Denver but well hidden to protect its famous and well-connected clientele from paparazzi and the media. The only way to reach it was on back roads or by helicopter. She checked her watch. She’d been waiting for fifteen minutes already and really wanted to get back on the road and head for Washington.
The more miles she put between herself and Luke Holden, the better. Her traitorous body had imagined all kinds of delightful activities when he’d suggested they spend the night together. She’d had to give her hormones a stern talking-to, and even then they didn’t settle down. Knowing he was spending the night somewhere in the same hotel had made rest hard. She stifled a yawn. Luke was trouble. He saw too much.
The door opened behind her and she turned to watch Dr. Rosen enter, wearing a white lab coat with Rosen MD embroidered on the breast pocket. He pushed his rimless glasses higher on his nose and approached her with a cheerful smile. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.” He gestured to one of the chairs facing the desk in front of the window, and Astrid sat down while the doctor situated himself in his office chair. “I understand you’re here to pick up Scott Driscoll?”
Astrid nodded. Naya had kept her brother’s first name on the patient records, but the last name was fake.
Dr. Rosen picked up a folder from his desk and flipped through it. “You must have gotten your signals crossed somehow.” He peered at her through his glasses. “Scott checked himself out yesterday.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Astrid leaned forward in the chair. She’d been told Scott was better, but not yet completely recovered. The doctor looked down at his folder again. “He left our clinic yesterday.”
“How’s that possible?” This must be some kind of joke. She must have misheard.
Dr. Rosen smiled. “Thanks to the formula his sister sent us, Scott made an excellent recovery. He’s not yet at one hundred percent, but with proper physical therapy—”
Astrid stood. “That’s not what I meant. Why did you let him leave? You knew someone was coming to pick him up.” This couldn’t be happening. Her heart pounded faster, and the berserker paced impatiently inside her, testing the mental barriers Astrid had put in place to cage it. She had to calm down, or this would end in disaster.
“We don’t keep our patients against their will.” Dr. Rosen frowned. “Scott wanted to leave, so we processed his release.”
Astrid forced air into her lungs in deep, slow breaths. “And he just walked out the gate?” She sat down again. “Did someone pick him up?”
Dr. Rosen consulted his notes again. “He called a car service.”
“Are you sure you’re not mixing him up with a different patient?” She squeezed her eyes shut while she waited for the doctor’s answer. When none came, she opened them again and found Dr. Rosen watching her with sympathy in his eyes.
“Scott is one of my personal favorites. Watching him walk out this door of his own accord was a moment of triumph.” He offered a self-deprecating smile.
Astrid slowly shook her head. She was so screwed. “Did he at least leave a message?”
The doctor handed over a yellow sticky note.
Tell Neyney I’ll be in touch.
Astrid stared at the words. Neyney was Scott’s nickname for Naya. The sound of her own heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears. She wanted to hit something. Hard.
She was so screwed. All she had to do was pick up the queen’s brother, and she couldn’t even do that right. So much for the skydd ceremony. Obviously the gods had not listened to the pledge of granting her a successful mission. Odin and Freya had placed a curse on her instead. She turned to Dr. Rosen. “What car service did he use?”
The doctor made a grimace of regret and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. Not to mention that if I did, I still couldn’t tell you. We have very strict doctor-patient confidentiality rules that I can’t violate.” He stood. “I’m sure Scott will be in touch soon.”
Yep, definitely cursed.
* * *
Hours later, after many phone calls to car services, Astrid had finally found some useful information. A rather dim clerk had told her they’d had a fare from somewhere “way up in the mountains” to the train station. He’d even given her the driver’s cell phone number, and the passenger’s description fit Scott. Although “tall and dark, not very talkative” could technically be anyone, she held on to the slim hope that Scott had hired the driver’s town car.
The historical Denver Union Station was an impressive light-gray building with an ornate facade and huge arched windows. Astrid stepped inside and admired the tall ceilings created to offset those same windows. The muted light of dusk filtered through their glass, helped by old-fashioned chandeliers illuminating the polished floors with a warm, golden glow. She found the information counter and studied the route map. The station was on the California Zephyr line, which meant Scott could be on his way to any city between Chicago and San Francisco. Mother of Valkyries, why could things never be easy?
A dull headache started to throb between Astrid’s temples. She checked the schedule and cheered up a little. The westbound train departed at eight a.m. Unless Scott had spent the night in Denver, he wouldn’t have been able to board that route. Most likely, he’d headed east and was now somewhere between here and Chicago. In order to track him down, should she dump the car and board a train, or drive to each city on the route?
Astrid’s phone vibrated. She fished it out of her pocket to find a message from Naya. You guys okay? How far did you make it today?
The headache intensified. She needed to buy some time without outright lying to her queen. It’s going to take longer than planned to get back, she replied.
No worries. Just stay safe, Naya wrote.
Astrid slipped the phone back into her jacket and wondered if she should just pretend to have lost the device. But worrying Naya by not replying to messages would be worse than not telling the truth. She couldn’t do that to her friend. As soon as she caught up with Scott, she needed to haul ass back to Washington. That meant looking for him by car. She headed back to the parking garage.
Dusk had progressed to night by the time she stepped off the elevator on the floor where she’d parked the silver Escalade. A low vibration from the fluorescent lights accompanied the echo her boots made against the concrete floor. Astrid had almost reached the car when
two sets of approaching footsteps made her pause. She reached for the throwing dagger she kept in an inside jacket pocket and continued walking but stayed on the balls of her feet to keep her steps silent. Her berserker stirred, alerting her to the fact that her pursuers were not human.
A shadow appeared from around a corner and separated into two distinct shapes. Astrid stopped and cursed under her breath. It didn’t look like she’d be able to avoid a fight.
What looked like two human men stepped into the light. Even dormant, Astrid’s berserker picked up on the glow of Asgard—the gods’ realm—radiating from the creatures. These were Loki’s wolverine monsters, hence the otherworldly essence surrounding them. All dressed in black, their faces were narrow with pointed chins. Humans would think they were regular mortals as long as they didn’t notice the black voids they had for eyes. As she waited for them to make their move, their nails elongated into claws. The creatures stared at her, arms held loosely at their side, fighting-stance ready.
She gripped her dagger tight and widened her own stance automatically. It would be so much easier if she could just use a gun, but the noise would bring law enforcement, and she couldn’t risk getting delayed by answering questions. She had to find Scott. And if she missed, anyone who showed up to investigate the gun shot could get killed by the wolverines.
Her berserker became agitated and growled, now battle ready, but she clamped down on her mental control and willed it to remain dormant. She was in enough trouble already without going into full battle rage. Without her warrior brothers here, she might never be able to recover if she gave her berserker full control.
“Greetings, Valkyrie,” one of the creatures snarled. “We’ve been waiting for you or one of your brothers to show up.” He grimaced in what was probably supposed to be a smile. “We’d actually hoped for the queen.”
Viking Warrior Rebel Page 3
