by Lisa Kessler
She chuckled. “Being hot doesn’t mean you’re good in bed.”
Erica peered over her shoulder. “We never even got to the bed.”
Trin’s eyes widened. “Oh gods! I eat at this table!”
“Relax. We weren’t on the table.” Erica grinned. The counter was another story, but she kept that detail to herself.
“Are you going to see him again?”
Erica’s smile faded as she poured her milk. “We agreed it was a one-time thing.”
Trin shook her head. “You know, if you never let a good man into your life, then Jack wins.”
Erica sat across from Trin, poking at her food. “It’s different for me, and you know it. The rest of you have muses to inspire music, laughter, dance, epic stories, even tragedy, but me? I inspire sex-obsessed stalkers. One was enough, thanks.”
Trin leaned back in her chair. “You don’t know that for sure. And if you limit yourself to no-strings-attached sex, you’ll never find out. Besides, Reed is Hunter’s best friend; he’s got to be a good guy. There’s no way Hunter would be friends with an abusive jerk.”
Suddenly, Erica wasn’t hungry anymore. “Reed seems like an amazing guy. Spend a few months with my insatiable muse, though, and all that could change.” She shuddered. “No thanks.”
“Fine.” Her roommate got up. “But you deserve more than just one night.”
Trin disappeared into her room while Erica forced down her cereal and then rinsed out her bowl. None of her muse sisters really understood. Being the vessel for Erato made her hunger for stimulation all the time. Flirting was as natural as breathing, and she did it without realizing it. Often.
Eventually, Jack’s jealousy led to… She glanced at the round scar on her shoulder.
Yeah, she wasn’t going there.
Since Mel and Callie had found their Guardians, Erica secretly hoped she might find hers, too. Every muse supposedly had one. She didn’t think her Guardian would be the love of her life, like her muse “sisters” had discovered with theirs. But she hoped hers might be able to keep her from getting in too deep with another guy.
Clio, the Muse of History, had translated the scroll declaring the prophecy of a man chosen by the gods to protect his muse.
Protect, not love.
The truth sucked. She watched her sisters fall in love, knowing that for her, even an amazing night of passion would end with an empty bed in the morning.
At least if she found her Guardian, she might have a friend.
Reed rolled up to the station for his shift feeling better than he had in months. He couldn’t stop thinking about Erica, but hopefully work would distract him. He prayed for a busy day. More calls meant less time to sit around reliving the crazy, fucking amazing night they had shared.
They’d agreed it was just a one-time thing. Though, if neither of them wanted a relationship, wouldn’t that make it possible for another night like that?
It was a dangerous path to wander down.
Right on cue, the alarm sounded. Instead of the blue light for medical emergency, the red light came to life—fire.
His mind shifted into rescue mode. He grabbed his gear, tugging on his turnout pants and boots as he headed for the truck with his jacket and helmet in hand. He swung up into the jump seat and put on his jacket while the captain gave them the details of what they’d be facing. The cantina on base was burning, and one employee was still trapped inside.
Reed would be the lead on the Rapid Intervention Team for search and rescue. His heart thrummed. While they constantly trained for fires, most of the time they spent their days inspecting fire prevention devices for the buildings on base—sprinkler systems, fire alarms, and the like. They waited in fire engines on the airstrip for the planes coming in hot, and they were first responders to wounded soldiers or car accidents.
The Federal Fire motto was Protecting Those Who Defend America, and Reed lived by it. Whatever the emergency, he’d risk everything to save a life.
But the opportunity rarely presented itself.
Sirens blaring, they raced across the base. Black smoke plumed into the bright-blue sky as they neared the cantina. Two plate glass windows blew out as they pulled up. He jumped from the truck, and a guy with a cut on his forehead rushed toward them.
“It just exploded. Like a bomb went off,” the man said.
The captain stared at the building. “People still inside?”
“Jessica. She went to the restroom, and a few minutes later something crashed through the back window from the parking lot.”
Reed put his respirator mask down over his face and tapped Johnson to lower his. Ethan Johnson was the low man on the totem pole, a new hire facing his first structure fire. He was young, but he worked hard and took all the shit they gave him in stride. Reed liked the kid, even though he was a constant reminder that Reed was no longer a twenty-something.
He grabbed Johnson’s jacket and yanked him in close. “You stay with me, understand? You don’t leave my back.”
Johnson nodded, gripping the nozzle on the water line.
“Good.” Reed glanced at the ventilation crew already up on the roof, punching holes to lower the temperature inside. Since he’d been in the cantina last night, the layout was fresh in his mind. “When we push through the front door, you open that line completely and get me a safe path to the bathroom.” He connected the hose from his mask to the regulator. Thirty minutes of air.
The cantina hadn’t opened yet—only employees were inside restocking—so the front doors were still locked. He swung his ax through the glass window in the door. One more swing to take out the handle, and he was in.
The heat washed over him like ocean waves. Fuck, the fire was crankin’ hot. If Jessica was still alive, she wouldn’t be much longer. Fire was a demon, destroying everything in its way. Reed had a healthy respect for it.
He gave a cursory glance around. While he couldn’t see much through the smoke, it was obvious the damned sprinklers weren’t working. What the hell…
It was hard to believe he had danced with Erica in this bar last night.
He stayed low, pushing through the smoke, while Johnson doused the flames down the hall toward the restrooms. Reed held his course and burst through the door to the ladies’ room.
“Jessica!” he shouted.
No one answered. But someone was coughing. He followed the sound, and it led him to a woman balled up on the floor. He rushed to her side, his heart thumping in his ears.
She was alive.
“We need to get out of here.”
She peered up at him, tears rolling down her soot-covered face.
He helped her up, hooking her arm around his shoulder. “Can you walk?”
She nodded, coughing.
“Good. Stay with me.” He practically carried her out of the bathroom with one arm, yanking his walkie-talkie out with the other hand. “Female is conscious. Bringing her out. Have the O2 ready.”
In the short time he’d been in the bathroom, the fire had already migrated to the bar. Liquor bottles cracked, spilling more fuel on the floor. Johnson pointed the water at the flames, while Reed helped the victim down the hall toward the exit.
His victim was getting heavier, weighing him down. “Stay awake,” he called to her. “We’re almost out.”
She struggled to keep her eyes open, stumbling forward.
He kept moving through the curtain of dark smoke, pushing himself as the temperature soared. Sweat streamed down his face while he sucked air from his respirator. He fought for a clear head. Smoke could disorient even the most seasoned firefighter, and if you got lost, the fire might never let you go.
Light pierced through the veil as he neared the door. He peered over his shoulder. “Johnson, another line is coming in.”
Reed helped his charge to the paramedics. The fire was roaring so loud he hadn’t even heard the ambulance sirens. Once the EMTs had her, he headed back into the flames. A beam from the ceiling collapsed with a dea
fening crash. Dust, roofing shingles, and more oxygen relieved some of the heat, but fed the hungry flames at the same time.
“Fuck.” The building was falling down around them.
Adrenaline licked at his bloodstream as he bent forward, trying to stay low for better visibility. Finally, he caught sight of Johnson’s yellow jacket and grabbed his shoulder. “Vic is safe. Time to get the hell out.”
Sweat ran down Reed’s back, into his eyes, and along his arms. As they crossed the threshold into the fresh air, he turned around to face the fire again. It was bigger and angrier now, but it wasn’t going to claim a life. Not today.
Reed took off his helmet and nodded to Johnson. “Not bad, Johnson.”
He wiped his brow, chuckling. “Right back atcha. You move pretty fast for an old guy.”
“Fuck you.” Reed swatted the back of Johnson’s head with his glove and headed for the truck.
The next few hours were spent putting out the blaze, and after lunch they started their investigation. Reed had checked that sprinkler system himself a couple of months ago, but today, the sprinklers hadn’t done their job.
While the captain and the others scoured the charred remains for a point of origin, Reed went around the north side of the building to the water main. The chain-link box protecting it was open, a padlock and cut chain on the ground. Keeping his gloves on, he knelt to check the valve.
Someone had broken in and shut off the water to the fire sprinklers.
Then he saw something that sent a chill slithering down his spine. In black spray paint near the base of the wall was a scrawled message: She’s mine.
Reed frowned and pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Captain, I’m at the water main. I think we’ve got an arsonist.”
It was dark by the time they got back to the station, and the adrenaline had run its course long ago, leaving Reed sore and exhausted.
But he’d done his job. The cantina employee was alive because of their efforts, so it was a good day.
They didn’t always end that way.
Tomorrow, they’d question the staff and start in on the arson investigation. With any luck, they would find this guy before he torched anything else.
Reed stowed his gear and went to the showers. While he scrubbed the soot from his skin and washed the smoke out of his hair, his ankle began to throb and sting again. He frowned, bending over for a look.
The birthmark on his ankle was usually a thin crescent shape, like a waning moon, but now, instead of dark brown, it was red and swollen. His buddy since high school, Hunter, had a similar mark on his wrist, and his had looked just like this not too long ago. Maybe the doctor had given Hunter a cream or something.
After he toweled off, he headed for the dorm, got changed, and pulled out his cell. He hit Hunter’s number and waited. “Hey, man. It’s Reed.”
“Dude, I saw the cantina fire on the news,” Hunter said on the other end of the line. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, staring at his ankle. “There was one employee trapped inside, but we got her out safe.”
“Good… Hey, didn’t you meet Erica there last night?”
Just hearing her name had parts of him very alert. “Yeah. Won’t be going there again for a while, though.”
“Any idea how it started?”
“Yeah, but it’s still under investigation.” His mind was whirling with thoughts, almost forgetting why he had called. “Dude, remember when your birthmark got all irritated a few months ago? Did the doctor give you anything for it?” Hunter was so quiet Reed thought the call had dropped. “You still there?”
“Yep. Sorry. Distracted.” He cleared his throat. “You said you met up with Erica last night, right?”
Reed stared at the ceiling and sighed. “Did you hear me ask about the birthmark?”
“Come over to Callie’s when you get off shift. We can barbecue some steaks and talk.”
“Sure, but that’s not going to fix my ankle.”
Hunter chuckled. “You’re a tough guy. Ignore it.”
“Thanks for nothing.” Reed rolled his eyes. He and Hunter had been best friends since high school, so he wasn’t worried about offending him. “I’m not off until tomorrow, but I should be at Callie’s by noon, then.”
“Perfect. See you soon.”
Reed set the phone on his nightstand and relaxed onto his bed, images of Erica flashing through his mind.
Yeah, he was going to have some amazing dreams…
CHAPTER 3
Ted Belkin paced the wall of windows in his office. Smoke billowed in the distance, but not from the direction he had hoped. The muses were still moving forward with their plans to inspire humanity and open the damned theater.
Since his father’s death, however, his focus had narrowed to revenge. The mission of the Order of the Titans took a backseat to the festering pit of rage in his soul. Retribution couldn’t come soon enough. He’d already poisoned most of the licensed contractors against the muses, and he had bribed the building inspector to delay their permits.
But they were still breathing.
“Excuse me, Mr. Belkin?”
It took him a second to turn. For Ted’s entire life, his father had been “Mr. Belkin.” But his father was gone now…
Because of the muses.
He faced his assistant. “What is it, Marion?”
“Mr. Leandros is asking for you to meet him in his office.”
His office. It was actually Ted Belkin, Sr.’s suite and rightfully should’ve been Ted’s now, but his father had died before the work on the Oceanus was completed. The fire on their offshore rig had grown into a public relations minefield, and a new leader and stockholder had taken up residence at Belkin Oil.
Mikolas Leandros, a Greek business tycoon and leader of the European sector of the Order of the Titans, had placed himself inside Ted’s company as the CEO. Or his stock certificates had.
Either way, Ted was stuck with him.
All because of the fucking muses.
“Tell him I’m on my way.”
Marion left, and Ted snapped up a piece of gum from his desk. He needed to gnaw on it to keep himself from saying something he couldn’t take back. For now, this Greek tycoon owned more of Ted’s company than Ted did.
He took the elevator to the top floor and down the hall to his father’s office—Mikolas’s office.
He ground his teeth into the gum.
Forcing a smile at the receptionist, he headed for the door. “He’s expecting me.”
She barely looked up from her feverish typing. “Of course.”
Ted opened the door, and Mikolas turned from the window. “Ted. Please sit.” Mikolas took the leather executive chair behind the desk and folded his hands. “The Order meets tonight, correct?”
Ted nodded. “Yes, at Crystal Peak. We have a regular reservation at the site. It’s very private.”
“Good. Time?”
“Eight o’clock.” Ted paused and added, “We do have an intercom system in this building, you know. It saves time.”
Mikolas’s gaze pinned him to the chair, dark eyes narrowing and devoid of emotion. “I’m well aware of that, but discussing the Order through lines that could be overheard is sloppy. Sloppiness is what led to me coming to this office in the first place.”
“Is that so?” Ted crossed his arms. “Seems to me you’re only here because your rich father bought enough stock to put you in that chair.”
Mikolas stood, forcing Ted to look up, way up. The weasel was tall and built like a Greek god. Asshole.
Mikolas lowered his voice, aggression coloring his accent. “The Order of the Titans began with the Greeks, and it will end with us, as well. When the explosion on your offshore oil rig made international news, the ancient Order, and our mission to free the Titans from their prison was nearly exposed. I cleaned up that mess, and I will lead your branch of the Order until further notice. If you have a problem with this, you can take it up with my ‘rich father.’ He�
��s the worldwide leader of the Order. Which you’d already know, if your father ever trusted you.”
Bitterness festered in Ted’s gut, not because of Mikolas’s taunts but because there was truth in them. When Ted’s father came back to Crystal City after the fire on the Oceanus rig, he was different. Trying to quell the public relations disaster with the media and making up reasons for why the rig was drilling well below the oil beds, closer to the earth’s core than any other company had ever come, had taken its toll on Belkin, Sr. Before he died, he had given Ted a folder, warning him about their international investors.
But his father hadn’t gotten to fill in the blanks before the heart attack ended his mission. He’d still be here if that fucking muse hadn’t hit him with that Taser. But Ted would even the score. Eventually.
He got to his feet and stood to his full height, though he was still not as tall as Mikolas. “Are we through here?”
“Not yet.” Mikolas withdrew a large envelope from his desk drawer. “Your father left notes of the progress of your Order.” He narrowed his eyes, lowering his voice. “Murder is a good way to have the police on your doorstep and doesn’t progress our mission.”
Ted’s tentative hold on his temper slipped. “Our mission wouldn’t be as close to fruition if it weren’t for me, you pompous ass.” He spat the words like a threat. “I found out where these muses were congregating. If they are successful in opening the theater, they’re going to bring in doctors, spiritual healers, scientists, and artists. Before we know it, new designs for solar-powered buildings and cars will end us. Oil refineries will close, and our funding will dry up. Meanwhile, we’re burning up equipment, and it doesn’t come cheap. What then, Mikolas?”
“Then I suggest we keep drilling.” An arched brow shot up, his dark eyes daring Ted to make a move. “I drove by their theater. There’s a sizable hole in the roof, and the parking lot is chained closed and badly in need of paving. They’re nowhere near opening. We can focus our resources on keeping it like that. Tonight, the member of the Order that your father dubbed the enforcer and tasked with eliminating the muses will be retired.”
