Derek barely glanced at the smoking sheetrock. "And what evil is that?"
"Satan!" Two more streaks of light shot from her eyes, and they both ducked as the glass picture frame behind them exploded
"Satan again?" Derek sat back up and helped Justine do the same. "Are you sure about that?"
The Manasa's eyes swelled to grapefruit size orbs, then burst in an explosion of green light. All that was left behind were her regular, human eyes, regarding Derek with a calculating expression. "I am certain. All curses must be signed by the curser, in order to activate it. It was Satan's signature. Not a signature as you humans use to sign a check, exactly, more of a magic mark. Until you get the printout of the file. At that point it's translated into human-speak as best it can." Her gaze flicked toward Justine. "So, you are the Guardian. Many people are very interested in the Goblet."
Derek's hand returned to her leg as Justine scooted to the edge of the couch. "You signed a contract," she said. "Iron clad. You must give us the original file."
"Oh, certainly." The Manasa walked over to the wall, flipped a painting aside to reveal a safe. She shielded the safe with her body, then punched in a code. The door opened and she pulled out a green file folder. "Here it is."
Derek took it and handed it to Justine. "Inspect it."
She opened it. All the information was there, right down to Derek's crooked penis and the fact Justine was the Guardian. Relief tugged at her, but she didn't relax. "It's here, but I don't know if it's the copy or the original."
His shoulder rested against hers as he scanned the document. "I thought you said they had to give the original. That it was biological or something."
"They do." She lowered her voice. "But I don't like the look on her face right now." The Manasa's eyes were whipping back and forth in rapid bursts.
Derek grimaced when he checked out the Manasa. "So, how can we find out for sure?"
"I don't know." The woman's head was now spinning around on her neck. "Good heavens. What's wrong with her?"
Derek cursed as green rocks burst out of the ceiling and pummeled the Manasa in the head and shoulders.
The Manasa threw her head back and opened her mouth as a scream tore out of her throat. "Aaaaeeeiiiiiieeeeeee!"
Justine slammed her hands over her ears, and Derek jerked back in surprise. Then the Manasa leaped up, ran to the safe, yanked out a red folder and thrust it into Derek's hands. "Fine! The original! It is done!"
Her head stopped rotating, the rocks disappeared and her eyes stopped dancing around in her head. She glared at them. "Now you have both the original and the copy, and I can't remember anything, other than that something very big just slipped away and that I will never sign a contract before acquiring information again. Go away."
"We're leaving." Derek removed his hand from Justine's inner thigh and stood up.
She had liked his touch far too much. For heaven's sake, a part of her wasn't sure what was worse: Derek no longer touching her or the fact he was cursed by Satan.
No. Satan won. Discovering they were going to have to take on the lord of the Underworld took precedence over physical contact with a man every day of the damn week.
She slammed the door on the way out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As soon as they got into the Uber, Derek called his brother. He got voice mail three times before Wendy finally picked up. "Quincy LaValle's line. May I help you?"
"Wendy. It's Derek. I need to talk to Quincy." He drummed his fingers on his thigh, ran his hand through his hair, shifted on his seat. "Is he there?"
"He's working on a theory and ordered me not to let him be disturbed. Can he get back to you later?"
Derek ground his teeth. He wasn't used to being screened. Quincy always picked up by the fourth or fifth time he called. It took that long to penetrate his subconscious. "It's really important. I need to talk to him."
"Is it about the Curse?"
Her voice carried in the Uber, and Derek saw Justine's eyebrows raise. "Who are you talking to?" she mouthed.
He watched her fingers idly stroke her gun and realized the bloodthirsty Guardian had just found another threat to her secret life. He schooled his features into a blank expression, as if he had no idea what she'd said, then looked past her. "Yes, it is," he replied to Wendy. "It's very important I speak with him."
Wendy clucked her disapproval. "I don't think that would be a good idea. He really worries about you and this whole Curse thing. You'll just upset him and then he'll be distracted the rest of the night."
"He's always distracted." He'd tried to get Quincy a cell phone once, but he'd never remembered to charge it. Ever. It had been a total bust. He realized he was crushing the file in his fist, and he forced his hand to relax. "Let me talk to him, Wendy. Now."
"I'm the one who believes you, not him. Tell me. Maybe I can help. As I said before, I know people, and I'm highly motivated to save his disbelieving behind. I want to marry him and I'm not going to get the chance if he dies."
He realized Justine had moved in a little closer to him, her ear only a few inches from the phone. A flash of interest crossed her face at Wendy's claim. "What people?" she mouthed.
Derek shook his head and moved the phone to his other ear, away from her. She stuck her tongue out at him and climbed over him so she could listen to the phone on that side, her hands on his shoulders, her hips skimming over his thighs. He let his breath out slowly and tried to concentrate on the call. "I need his math skills, Wendy. Unless you're as good with numbers as he is, put him on."
"Fine," she sighed. "But I'm doing this under protest."
Somehow, the thought of annoying his brother's admin didn't worry him. It simply didn't measure up to being shot by a Guardian, almost defrauded by a Manasa, fire-balled by a Rivka, and cursed by Satan. "Understood. Thanks."
Quincy picked up a few minutes later. "This better be critical."
"How are you at breaking through an encryption?"
"I love encryption. I thought this was about the Curse. Otherwise I would have picked up the third time you called. What do you need?"
Derek opened the folder and pulled out the Manasa's report. "I have a six-page document that's encrypted. I need it deciphered in twenty-four hours."
"Sounds fun. Can you drop it by the office? I'll start work on it now. Do you have a key to the building? I don't remember if the outside doors are locked or not."
A spurt of energy shot through Derek and he grinned at Justine. If anyone could decode Satan's curse, it was his brother. "We're five minutes away, and your building doesn't get locked until after hours."
"Oh, great. So, when will you be here?"
"Five minutes, Quin."
"Excellent. I can't wait. Encryption is a blast. When did you say you needed it?"
"I'll write it all down for you." Derek watched skepticism cloud Justine's features, and she pursed her lips.
"Perfect. Will you be staying for dinner?" Quin asked. "I could have Wendy order something."
"No, Quincy. You need to start working on it right away."
"Of course I will. What else would I do?"
He grinned. "I'll see you in a couple minutes."
He hung up and Justine shot him a doubtful look. "You actually trust him to stay focused long enough to decode it?"
"Once he gets started, nothing will be able to pull him away. He's absent-minded only because he's so focused on his projects." Derek ran his fingers over the symbols that made no sense. "How ironic would it be if he was the one who finally ended the Curse, and he doesn't even believe in it?"
Her forehead was still furrowed. "And if he can't do it?"
"We convince your mom to use her body to barter with Satan to save me. You told Becca and me that Satan was courting her, right?"
"Derek!" She slammed him in the chest. "Not funny."
No, but it was a good distraction to keep her from remembering that Wendy had asked about the Curse. As annoying as Wendy was with h
er protectiveness over his brother, he'd prefer not to be saddled with causing her death. Now that he knew about Satan and the Afterlife, well, he sort of had a vested interest in keeping his mortal sins as minimal as possible.
Derek managed to keep the conversation with Justine focused around the Manasa, Satan, the Curse and their plan for Iris to interrogate Satan, until after they'd dropped the information at Quincy's office. He lost control of the discussion when their Uber was about ten blocks from Justine's condo and they passed a woman dressed as a hooker. The instant he saw Justine's gaze flick toward the woman, he knew he was in trouble.
"Derek—"
"Don't say it."
"Do you cry when you get a splinter?"
He glared at her. "I didn't cry when you shot me." It was a little difficult to maintain his dignity after the Manasa had revealed all. He would never get over this. So much for any subconscious desire for a hot affair with the Guardian before they engaged in a battle to the death.
"True." She gave him a speculative look that made him cringe. "Is it really crooked?"
He ground his teeth. "It has a slight curve." He stared out the window. Better than looking at Justine's face while she imagined him with a deformed penis.
"How slight?"
He gritted his teeth, then turned and leveled a dark look at her. "I've been told it is exactly the right amount of curvature to enhance the experience."
Her eyebrow went up. "Is that so? By who?"
"If you're that curious, perhaps you'd like to make your own judgment."
She blinked, and a thoughtful expression came over her face. "You know, I think that's a great idea."
She sounded completely serious, and heat rushed through him. "I thought sex was off limits. Eternity of unspeakable horrors and all that." That was why he'd backed off. He was no hero, but he couldn't justify getting a little action at the cost of her soul. Especially if he had to kill her. He'd feel like major shit if he killed her and damned her to an eternity of unspeakable horrors. If he knew she was heading up to heaven for unlimited rounds of golf, well, he'd be able to live with ending her life as a tradeoff for all the future generations of LaValle men. He'd at least be less guilt stricken.
"Sex is banned. But this isn't sex. This is purely business. Just a quick looksee is all I'm talking about." She grabbed the file and opened it. "Look here." She pointed to the title of the file. "The Manasa identified you as the 'the drug addict client.' Maybe she was kidding, or maybe she's not one hundred percent accurate. If she's wrong about who cursed you, I'd like to know before we rush off after Satan."
He blinked. "And this has what to do with my body?"
She slapped the file shut. "If I can confirm some of her other claims like your crooked penis, then I'll feel more confident that she was right about the Curse."
If she went digging around in his pants, there was no chance he'd be happy with a nod and a handshake. He'd kissed Justine already. He'd had her body pressed up against his on the dance floor. He'd tasted her skin and her lips. If he wound up with his pants around his ankles and Justine's face at hip level, it wasn't going to be so she could take one look and walk away. He cleared his throat. "I can confirm it."
She made a face and shook her head. "See, that's not enough for me. First, you call it curved and she said crooked. If it's really only curved, then how do we know she was totally right about the Curse?"
"Fine. It's crooked. Move on."
"No. Still not enough."
"You think I'd admit it if it weren't true?"
She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a quelling look. "Maybe you're biased. Maybe you think it's crooked because the prostitute told you that, but it really isn't. So maybe the Manasa was picking up on your neurosis, but not the facts. Which would mean she picked up on Satan because of the Rivka and the Curse isn't really by him." She paused to take a breath, her gaze flicked to his lap. "I can't go after Satan unless I know for sure it's the right thing to do."
"No! I will not have my penis treated like it's a clue to be read and discarded." Only a woman would suggest such a thing. They had no concept of its fragile ego.
She cocked her head, and he could practically see her analyzing the situation. "Is the curve evident in its flaccid state?"
"Justine, let it alone."
She scooted forward and rested her hand on his waistband. "Is it?"
"No. So there you go. A clinical exam will reveal nothing."
Something in her eyes flashed. She looked like a warrior now, not a sensual lover. "Derek, my eternal soul, and quite possibly my mother's, rest on my ability to vanquish the Curse and save Mona from generations of threats by LaValle men." She swung her leg over his and straddled his lap, her face tense with determination. "I wasn't made Guardian for nothing. I can kill as needed and I can most definitely generate a hard-on without getting emotionally involved." She dropped her hips and settled against him.
He was pressed as far away from her as the seatback would allow. He could not make the same claim. "Justine—"
She threw her arms around him and slammed her body against his, her mouth hot and wet against his. It took less than two seconds for him to lose the battle. He dove into her mouth, his tongue desperate for hers. Skin. He needed skin. He yanked her shirt out from her jeans and plastered his hand over her bare back. She was warm, soft, alive.
God, he needed her.
Want. Wanted her. Not need.
She was above him, holding herself up on her knees as she poured heat into his mouth. Yes. It was all it had been on the dance floor and more.
Much more.
This was the woman who had shot him in the gut. That was a bond he'd never had with anyone, and it was dragging him into her spell.
She deepened the kiss, her hands in his hair, her hips moving against his, grinding, taking control, demanding his response.
God, it felt good to let her drive. He felt like he was always the one managing everything and everyone in his life. But not now. Not with Justine. The sense of freedom was exhilarating. Let her take responsibility. Not him.
He let his hands roam, taking in every curve of her back. He massaged her shoulder blades, ran his fingers down her spine, dug into the muscles of her lower back, cupped her bottom, relishing the softness under his touch. Soft, yet firm. Justine was a woman, a sexual being that was driving him to the brink, yet at the same time, she was a fighter who would never let herself fail.
His other half.
If such a thing existed.
And right now, he simply wouldn't think about the fact they might be battling to the death in the morning.
Right now, it was about the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, about her hips driving into his, commanding his body to reply. He had no chance against her, and that was fine with him.
She moved her head to the side, her lips trailing heat down the side of his neck as she tugged his shirt out of his jeans.
No problem. Happy to oblige.
He helped her get his shirt free and she shoved it upward, feasting on his chest as if she would die without the taste of him in every cell of her body. Her lips were tight around his nipple, her hands kneading his stomach, sliding lower, her fingers on the button of his jeans.
With a growl he didn't even recognize, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her upward, burying his face under her shirt to taste the skin over her ribs. She tasted like vanilla, and something else. Something hot. Something dangerous. Something that teased him to take a chance.
He felt like he was hovering on the edge of a cliff, peering over the edge, with Justine down below, beckoning him to jump, to risk, to fly. What was down there? Something dark. Something dangerous. Something so unbelievably amazing that it was worth jeopardizing everything else.
He knew in that moment, he wouldn't turn away. Not from this. Not ever. No matter what the cost to himself. He grabbed her hand and guided it to the front of his jeans. It was the start, and he knew it wasn't
going to end there. They were both in it until the end. He knew it, and he could feel the commitment in Justine's body, in the desperation of her kisses. No matter what the cost to either of them, they weren't turning back.
The car lurched suddenly, and they were flung forward. Justine smashed the back of her head into driver's seat with a thunk and a yelp, and Derek flew into her, and then they both were on the floor, tangled up in a mess of limbs, heavy breathing and too many clothes.
"Sorry," the driver said. "I didn't notice the red light. Not that I was watching you guys, because I wasn't. Go ahead with your business. I can drive around for hours."
Justine groaned, and Derek looked at her. Her hair was a disheveled mess, her shirt was up around her armpits and she was still breathing heavily. Raw heat surged through him and suddenly all he wanted to do was bury himself in her essence, to lose himself forever.
"Don't stare at me like that," she muttered. "Get off me and let's get out of this Uber."
"Right." He grabbed the edge of her shirt and tugged it down over her breasts.
It took them several minutes, a few inadvertent gropes that sent hormones raging again and a significant bribe to convince the Uber driver to stop the car and actually let them out, but they were finally on concrete again.
One block from her condo.
They stood there for a moment, looking at each other.
Was the moment lost? Had sanity returned, along with thoughts of unspeakable horrors and Curses?
Justine's gaze flicked to the front of his jeans, then back up to his face. "I'll race you to my place. Winner gets naked first." She took off running before he could even agree.
He loved a woman who took control.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Just as Justine knew he would, Derek caught up with her as she was yanking open the door to her building. He grabbed her around the waist, spun her around, and hauled her against him, shoving them both through the open door as he shackled her with kisses. She sighed and slipped her hands under his shirt, relishing the feel of his body under her fingers. There was nothing like a man's body, with all the curves and hardness that were so different than hers.
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