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  “Right this way,” Michael said, hurrying toward the reception desk. Des followed but not without noting the cute way Jessica glowered at Michael’s back.

  “Two blocks on the left,” Michael said, writing a name down on the paper. “It’s called Cura’s Bar, and it has a little of everything. Jess loves the grilled chicken salad with salsa, no dressing. Actually, I’ll write it out, and you can just hand it to the hostess.”

  Des accepted the paper. “Excellent. I’ll be back in a few minutes. How do I get back inside the museum when I return?”

  Jessica motioned him forward. “I’ll walk you to the door and introduce you to Larry, the head of our nighttime patrol.”

  Des offered Michael a nod and then fell into step beside Jessica.

  “You really don’t have to do this,” she said.

  “I don’t mind,” he said, drawing to a halt a few steps from the guard post. “Besides, I have a motive. I don’t want your divided attention. I want you all to myself.”

  And he did. He wanted her alone, naked and beneath him. To touch her, and kiss, to make slow love to her. To take her in a way he’d not dared take more than physical fulfillment from a woman since becoming a Knight. But he dared now. He couldn’t seem to help himself. Jessica had called to more than his primal nature. He wanted more than sex. She’d managed to awaken the man. A detail that scared the hell out of Des, because he’d long ago learned to control his Beast—it was the man in him who’d once gotten him killed in his human life. A thought he pushed away as he stepped outside, his instincts suddenly going on alert.

  Des sensed the enemies in the shadows, lurking somewhere nearby, waiting to attack. The walk to the restaurant took a dark path that crossed two deserted parking lots.

  The microphone discreetly placed behind his ear allowed for instant communication with his team. “I have company.”

  “Copy that,” Max said. “We’ve got your back.”

  “No,” Des said, rejecting the support. “Watch the museum. We can’t risk anything happening to that journal.”

  Rock interjected, “You’re unarmed.”

  “Hold your positions.” The idea of Jessica being prey to the Beasts bothered him more than it should. “And stay alert.”

  Approaching the first parking lot, Des noted the rows and rows of vehicles offering plenty of cover for the Beasts. His feet crunched on glass as he moved beneath a broken streetlight.

  The instant he passed the first car, his peripheral view caught movement to his left. He turned as the dark shape charged at him—a Beast in primal form, his face half animal, half man. A saber sliced through the air, and Des ducked within an instant of losing his head, but not without the blade slicing into his hand. The cut would heal in a few hours with the unique abilities of the Knights. Losing his head would be death.

  He rotated around to kick a second attacker, throwing the big Beast to the ground with the force of the blow. His first attacker sliced a blade at him. Des leaned to the left, to the right, dodging the sword, wishing for his own.

  As if in answer to that wish, Rock charged forward, appearing from the shadows. “Des!”

  He looked up as a blade flew through the air. He caught it by the hilt and wasted no time putting it to use. While Rock took on the other Beast, Des matched blades with the one he’d kicked to the ground.

  The Beasts wore their standard armor suits, damn near impossible to damage. Not that they bled anyway. They had no blood, no souls. But they could feel pain and Des wanted to inflict some.

  With a well-practiced move, Des knocked the Beast’s sword from his hand, and followed up by slicing his blade through his attacker’s neck. The Beast’s head tumbled to the ground. Mere seconds later, the body exploded into flames, burning to ash. The armor and weapons belonging to the Beast disappeared, products of dark magic.

  Des turned to find Rock victorious as well. “You don’t follow orders well,” Des snarled. The kid had a knack for being impulsive, and one day it was going to get him killed.

  “You’re welcome,” Rock spat back. He shoved his weapon into the casing that hung off his belt beneath a jacket the hot night made unnecessary.

  Des tossed Rock the sword he’d used in battle. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig,” Rock noted, eyeing Des’s hand. “You need Marisol.”

  Rock was right. He needed their Healer’s assistance if he was going back into that museum. She could heal him instantly. Marisol and Jag were the only two in their operation who could orb from place to place. Times like these, Des wished like hell he could orb.

  Des hit his mic. “Max.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Any trouble at the museum?”

  “We’re clear here. Looks like the Beasts simply want to clear their path to the journal by killing us off. Or rather, killing you. Someone thought you were a problem.”

  “I was an easy target. See if you can get Marisol to flash over to the van.”

  “How bad are you hurt?”

  “Too bad to walk into the museum without Jessica insisting I need a doctor. Tell Marisol to bring bandages, too. I need an excuse for the blood all over my shirt.” No one would know he was healed beneath a bandage. “I’ll tell Jessica someone had car trouble, and my efforts to help backfired.”

  “Copy that,” Max said.

  Des eyed Rock and reached in his pants pocket with his good hand. “I need you to go get the food so I won’t bleed all over the restaurant. Order me something, too. She expects me to eat with her.”

  Rock inclined his head in agreement and started to turn away. “Rock,” Des called after the young Knight, waiting until he knew he had his full attention. “Thanks, man. For once, I’m glad you didn’t listen to me.”

  Des didn’t wait for a response. He took off running, making his way back to Max’s location, cutting left to the alley. When he arrived at the surveillance van, he yanked the rear doors open, not bothering to announce himself—Max could see his approach with his equipment.

  As expected, Marisol was inside waiting for him. The minute she saw the blood dripping from his wound, she tossed him a towel. Des wrapped it around his cut, slowing the blood flow enough to allow him to pull the doors shut behind him. He couldn’t have Marisol working her healing powers with an audience.

  With long brunette hair, green eyes all healers possessed and a feisty personality, Marisol was as beautiful as she was devoted to the care of the Knights. Unlike the Beasts, Knights could bleed to death. Granted, it would take damn near draining them dry, but it could happen.

  Once he was seated on a bench, he unwrapped the towel and held his hand out to Marisol. She placed her palm over his and a bright light splayed across his injury. A second later, his wound was healed.

  He made a fist and tested for full use. “Good as new.”

  Marisol tore open the bandage. “You do have quite a lot of blood on your shirt. It’s a shame you don’t have a way to switch it out.”

  “I’d have to explain why I changed, if I did that. I better stick to the plan and say I helped a stranded motorist and got hurt.” He looked over Marisol’s shoulder to where Max sat at a computer. “Any more trouble?”

  “Nothing,” Max said. “They were after you. That strikes me as odd.”

  “It has to be because I’m the closest to the journal,” Des said. “I’m inside now. And I told you, I’m pretty damn certain that Jessica’s boss is working for the Darklands. My instincts are never wrong and they are screaming about that little pipsqueak of a man. He’d have access to the vault so he’s the perfect target for the Beasts. You tagged him, right?”

  “His cell, his car, his apartment. If he breathes, I have it recorded. But we need the same access to that vault that the Beasts have, if your suspicions are right.”

  “I know. I told you before. I’ll get Jessica’s security card.” He grimaced and then murmured under his breath, “I wish I could just tell her what’s going on.”

  Marisol narrowed her gaze on h
im, her expression probing. After a moment, she said, “Lying to her is bothering you.” It wasn’t a question.

  As the leader of this mission, Des had to make tough choices that protected humanity as a whole, not choices to protect one woman’s feelings. He didn’t need Marisol going back to Jag and suggesting his decision-making ability was compromised. Because, damn it, that wasn’t true. He’d made a mistake over a woman in his human life, and been betrayed. He would never be that foolish again.

  “Her cooperation would simplify things, that’s all,” he explained to Marisol, despite the fact that she hadn’t asked. “The Darklands have a willing helper in her boss, Greg. I’m sure of it.”

  “There’s no way to know how she’d react to the truth,” Marisol commented.

  Des gave her a nod. “I know.” And he did. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

  Max focused on the immediate problem: how to get Jessica’s security card, which was attached to her key ring. “Jessica needs her card to log her exit,” he commented. “You need a way to get her and her card outside that building.” He considered a moment. “What if I make sure she has a flat tire and needs a ride home?”

  “That works,” Des said, thinking about how much more complicated this night was getting with each passing second. Taking her home, to her apartment, represented temptation.

  “All done,” Marisol said, finishing up with the bandage.

  “Thanks,” Des said absently, his mind on Jessica and trying to figure out why she affected him so intensely.

  “Incoming,” Max announced, a second before the doors flew open and Rock appeared.

  Rock and Marisol locked gazes, and Des rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for their tormented looks of an impossible love.

  Des maneuvered out of the van and grabbed the restaurant bags from Rock’s hands, not even bothering to try and snap him out of his Marisol fixation. It was time to get back to his assignment, back to lying to Jessica.

  A duty that was twisting his gut into knots.

  Chapter 5

  The minute Jessica saw the blood on his sleeve and the bandage on his hand, her eyes went wide. “Oh my God! What happened?”

  “It’s nothing,” Des said, handing Michael one of the bags. “A lady had car trouble and I caught my hand on a piece of metal. The restaurant hostess found a bandage.”

  “Oh, was it Monica?” Michael asked, as they walked toward the elevator. “Tall brunette with really good taste in footwear.”

  Jessica noted the funny look Des cast in Michael’s direction, and she wondered if he picked up on her friend’s feminine tendencies. If he had, he didn’t seem bothered, and she was pleased about that.

  “I think so, yes,” Des said. “‘Monica’ sounds right.”

  Michael clucked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “I knew we shouldn’t have let you get the food,” he said, as if he hadn’t been the one to push Des toward the restaurant.

  Jessica and Des both looked at him as if he were insane. “What?” Michael asked innocently as they stopped on his floor. He stepped into the hallway and held the elevator, addressing Des. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “No problem,” Des said. “Enjoy.”

  The door started to shut and Michael stuck his hand inside to stall it again, concern on his face as he eyed Des’s hand. “You should get a tetanus shot.”

  “I’ve been on plenty of dig sites,” Des said, laughing. “Thanks for the concern, but believe me, I’m covered.”

  “All right, then,” Michael said, releasing the door and waving at Jessica, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He’d been giving her a hard time about finally showing an interest in a man.

  As the elevator moved on, she found herself sharing a laugh with Des, their eyes locking in a sizzling stare. She’d never felt this kind of warmth with a man. This instant, overwhelming attraction that made her want to fall into his arms. Her reaction to Des seemed to intensify with each contact, with each passing second. She didn’t even know what to do with something this potent. It was almost, well, almost more fantasy than reality.

  Certainly, she’d heard of people feeling such potent reactions to strangers, but she had really thought it only possible in fairy-tale romance novels. Not real life. Certainly, not her life. The men in her life had been more interested in her father than her.

  Before she could begin to conjure words, the doors opened to her floor. “This is where my office is. I figured we could eat in there. If that’s okay with you?”

  “Of course,” Des said. “Sounds perfect.”

  They stopped at a soda machine in the hall, and then Jessica led Des into her office.

  “It smells good in here,” Des commented.

  “Thanks. I have a thing for candles.” Jessica motioned toward the corner and her favorite chair, a matching one beside it. “We can sit there.”

  He settled into a seat and began pulling the food out of the bag. As Jessica claimed her position beside him, the room took on a more intimate quality. Funny how she’d never noticed how close the two chairs were before.

  “I feel bad about you getting hurt,” she said, accepting the container of salsa that Des handed her, her eyes lingering on his bandage.

  “I’m fine but if you feel really bad, you can make it up to me.”

  “How’s that?” she asked, warming with the heated look he cast her way.

  “Let me take you out to a real dinner tomorrow night.”

  A smile touched her lips. “Aren’t you jumping the gun?” she asked. “We haven’t even made it through this dinner.”

  He opened his box to display a burger. “This is takeout. Not to be confused with a dinner date. And in case there’s any confusion over my intent tonight, that’s what tonight was supposed to be.”

  A shiver of excitement raced up her spine. For so long, Jessica had shut out the opposite sex. After a few too many money-grubbers and political movers who wanted a piece of her father, it all seemed like too much work.

  “Mixing work and pleasure is never smart,” she said.

  “Neither is ignoring opportunity,” he countered. “I’ll ask again before the night is out.”

  She laughed at that and dumped salsa on her salad. “Well. Dinner or takeout, I’m glad to have the food. I’m beyond starving.”

  He tore open a ketchup packet and then dabbed some on several fries. “Sounds like I planned my trip in the middle of crazy times for you.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” she said, taking a bite of chicken. “Earlier today you commented on how stressed I seemed. You know, right after my boss interrupted us.”

  He nodded.

  “I tried to hide it, but you were right. I’d just found out the caterer for the party has food poisoning. Or rather, the entire staff has food poisoning. We had to get a new service with the event almost upon us.”

  He frowned. “Huh.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That’s just a little odd. The entire staff?” He grabbed a fry and ate it. “What are the chances?”

  Uneasiness churned in her stomach and she set her fork down. She’d thought of this before and tried to put her mind at ease. “Right,” she said flatly, making a mental note to check out the catering company again. “What are the chances?”

  Des reached out and touched her arm for the briefest of moments. “I’m sorry,” he offered gently. “I really said something wrong, didn’t I?”

  She glanced at him, finding herself lost in the depths of those dark eyes. Why did her skin tingle where he touched her? What was it about this man that drew her like a magnet, charged her with a powerful reaction? And how could she feel this excited, this aroused, and still feel warm in a comfortable kind of way? Safe even. Safe. It was such an unusual word to come to mind.

  Delicately, she cleared her throat and reached for her voice. Talking to Des about the museum security issues wasn’t an option, even if he did feel “safe.” There were rules and policies to follow.

>   “I guess planning this party is getting the better of me,” she managed to say. “It’s important to me. It’s, well, it’s about my mother.”

  She eyed her food, feeling the intensity of his stare. Her lashes lifted, and in his gaze she found genuine interest in what she had to say, to share. Yet, he didn’t press her, didn’t ask questions. The way he let her decide what to share and what to keep inside somehow encouraged her to talk. Oddly, she almost felt as if her mother was in the room, urging her forward, pressing her to share her work.

  She continued, “My mother’s research was responsible for the donation we hope to unveil that night—the Journal of Solomon.”

  “I saw something about that on the news,” he mentioned. “Actually, that’s what struck me as odd about the catering situation. Didn’t someone try to steal the journal?”

  She made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know how the media got word of that, but yes, there was an attempted theft. Attempted and failed, thank God. It’s locked away nice and safe now, and hopefully the insurance company will still let it be displayed at the party.” Her voice softened. “That journal was my mother’s life’s work, her passion. If anything happened to it, my father would be destroyed. She died of breast cancer while they were excavating the final dig site where it was eventually found. He saw the exploration through to the end, because he honored her compulsion to find the book, even if he didn’t understand it.”

  “Which is why the party is a breast-cancer charity event,” Des commented.

  “Yes,” Jessica said. “It was a condition of the donation my father set up.”

  “I get the feeling your mother’s death was recent?” He spoke the words in a low voice, as if he wasn’t sure he should ask the question.

  She inhaled and reached for her fork, thinking about that for a few moments as she took a bite of her food. “More than a year, but I think the fact that the journal is here, right around the corner, waiting to be explored, has opened up the wound a bit. I mean, she not only lived to make that discovery, she died for it.” She shook her head sadly. “But she will never actually see the contents.”