by Lisa Kessler
The door cracked open, and Heather sighed. “David, you know I don’t open until noon. Come back later.”
He held up a cardboard tray with fresh coffee and a bag of donuts. “I brought an offering.” He sobered. “Please. It’s important.”
She stared up at him with her bright blue eyes and groaned. She closed the door, slid the security chain free, and opened it again. “What kind of trouble are you in now?”
He stepped through into her living room and set the tray on her table. Heather was a gifted psychic medium and his best hope to figure out how the hell Pandora’s box knew Chris’s name.
Heather crossed the room, still in her robe, her long white hair draped over her shoulders. He’d grown accustomed to her fair features. Born with Albinism, her lack of pigment made some see her as an oddity, otherworldly, but it only took a few minutes in her presence to discover she was kind, intelligent, and fiercely protective of others. Heather had a passionate, warrior’s heart, and he should know, he’d broken it before.
Water under the bridge.
She tucked her foot up under her as she sat in a chair at the table and claimed a coffee cup. Taking a sip, she inspected him and slowly shook her head. “You look like hell. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
He raised a brow. “This is early for you to be tapping into your powers, isn’t it?”
She smirked. “You obviously haven’t looked in a mirror. I don’t need to be psychic to see the bags under your red eyes. What’s going on?”
This was where things got tricky. Heather didn’t have the security clearance for him to reveal the paranormal items he collected for the US government, but that didn’t stop him from working with her on a consulting basis in the past. Her psychic gifts probably told her more about his occupation than he would’ve liked, anyway. But if a spirit had disclosed his secrets to her, she’d never revealed the knowledge. Not outright.
Recently, she’d helped him recover the Holy Grail without him ever needing to divulge which relic he was searching for. He cleared his throat. “What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room. It’s a matter of national security.”
An empathetic smile curved her lips. “It always is with you.”
He nodded. “I’ve catalogued an item recently that…knew something. Something no one else knows. I’ve never spoken the words out loud to anyone.”
A crease marred her smooth brow. “You’re going to need to give me a little more to go on. What are you hoping I can find out for you?”
Good question. Fatigue made his thought processes slow. He took a swallow of coffee, hoping for clarity. “If an object is inherently evil, could it also be—self-aware?”
She caught her long white hair, pulling all of it around the front of her shoulder. “That would depend on the source. If you can’t tell me what we’re talking about, then you’re wasting both of our time.”
“Shit.” He got up, pacing the room. “I don’t want to pull you into all this.”
“And yet you called, texted, and then showed up well before my business hours.” She set her coffee on the table. “You’ve known me long enough to know I can protect myself. What’s got you so spooked?”
He met her eyes. “Pandora’s box is real.”
Heather raised a brow, but she didn’t laugh or throw him out. “And it’s aware?”
“It whispers. At first it was just a hiss, like a radio lost the signal, but it’s become words, and yesterday it—” He crossed his arms. “It offered me a deal.”
“A deal? In trade for what?”
He broke eye contact, staring out the window. “It wants me to open the lid. And it knew something I’ve never told anyone. How is that possible?”
Heather didn’t reply. He glanced her way to find her sitting tall in her chair, her eyes closed and breathing slow and even. Her attention came back into the room. She stared at him, worrying her lower lip. “My guides are telling me you’re not the only one.”
David frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You aren’t the only one it made a deal with.” She stood up. “Could the secret you’re burying involve someone else? Someone who could have come in contact with the box already?”
He rubbed his chin, his mind racing. It was plausible that Chris would have seen or maybe even touched the box while it was in the Digi Robins’ possession. And maybe when the box whispered Christopher’s name it hadn’t realized David’s connection.
He shifted his gaze back to Heather. “Could it know if someone was in danger?”
She crossed her arms, rubbing her biceps like she’d caught a chill. “If that box really does contain all the evils of the world, you can’t believe anything it might whisper.”
“So, it’s lying. It couldn’t know.”
“I can’t tell you for sure.” She shrugged. “I’m saying don’t trust it. I have no idea what it knows, but evil lies, David.”
He nodded. “You’re right.” He crossed to the door and turned back. “Thank you. Be sure to send an invoice for your time.”
“I always do.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her bright eyes. “Be careful. This thing has its hooks in you.”
“I’ll cleanse the space with sage. Thanks, Heather.” He jogged down the stairs and got in his car.
He needed to find Chris. Fast.
…
Harmony rinsed the conditioner from her hair, replaying the morning. What the hell was she doing? Last night John laid his cards on the table. After her transaction today, he wanted to keep seeing her beyond working together at the office.
And she’d turned him down.
But this morning, while he seemed to be respecting the new boundaries she’d erected, she went and asked him out to dinner. And already she was hoping Drake would bring the box by early enough that there might be time to seize that orgasmic risk John had teased her with earlier.
What is wrong with me? She’d never had trouble cutting ties with men before, especially powerful men who might try to control her, or at least tame her.
John definitely fell into that category.
But when she’d told him no and drew her line in the sand, he’d respected it. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d heard her.
Which made him nothing like any other man she’d ever known.
And deep down, when he told her he’d never attempt to cage her…she believed him.
A knock came on the bathroom door. She peered around the shower curtain. “Yeah?”
“Drake delivered the box.”
Hearing John’s baritone voice warmed her, and instead of fighting it, she allowed herself to revel in the ripples of desire swelling in her bloodstream. “You can come in.”
He entered the steam-filled bathroom as Harmony diverted the water from the showerhead into the faucet. She put the stopper in the bottom and settled into the tub before she peeked out at him. “I think this bathtub has room for two.”
“Aye.” His crooked smile had heat pooling low in her belly, but he didn’t come any closer.
She shoved the curtain aside. “And yet, you’re still dressed.”
He chuckled. “I usually pride myself on control and planning, but it’s taking every drop I have left to honor your wishes. If I taste your lips one more time, I’m never going to be able to walk away.”
Her heart fluttered in an unusual melty kind of way. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t know why, but when you said you won’t try to change me or tame me—I believe you.”
He gave her an almost imperceptible nod. “You’ve worked with me long enough to know I keep my word.”
She raised a brow. “What do I need to say to get you in this tub with me?”
A muscle tensed in his cheek, and the desire in his eyes had her struggling not to climb out of the hot water and drag him in. “Tell me we’re finished with this push and pull. I realize this won’t be easy, but we’re either partners, or we’re not, and if we’re not—my pants best be stayin’ on.”
<
br /> The touch of his true accent bled into his voice, and again he surprised her. John Smyth was willing to take a risk. For her.
“Partners,” she whispered.
He came forward, stripping off his shirt on the way. His gaze never strayed from her face as he took off his pants and got into the water with her. She straddled his lap, draping her arms around his neck. Although neither of them said a word, his eyes spoke volumes. Desire, passion, and…devotion gleamed in the depths.
And instead of running the other way, she closed the distance between them, her lips caressing his, savoring the taste of his mouth as he embraced her.
He smiled, whispering, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”
She trailed her teeth and tongue down his neck to his shoulder, her fingers sliding through his hair. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the pleasure as she settled onto his erection. His words touched her in ways she wasn’t ready to examine. Inch by inch, their bodies became one, and besides the passion, there was something else, something emotional and new.
She lifted her head, her eyes locked on his. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
He kissed her, grinding their bodies together. “Me neither.”
One of his hands slid down from her waist, between them, but she caught his wrist. “Wait. Not yet.”
She brought his hand up to her breast. He kneaded it as he leaned in to take her nipple into the warmth of his mouth. She moaned, arching her back, offering herself to him, body and soul. His other hand gripped her ass, holding her tight as his hips slammed into her faster.
Water splashed out onto the tile floor. She barely noticed. The sight of his lips and tongue toying with her nipple had her so turned on, the rest of the world faded away. He kissed his way across to her other breast, his breathing labored. Another wave of bathwater overflowed from the tub as his thrusts came harder.
“I’m so fucking close…” He slid his hand back into the water, his voice a raw whisper.
His fingertips moved between them, rubbing her in time with his thrusts. She kissed him again, bracing her hands on either side of the tub, rocking her hips into his. Pleasure swamped all her senses as she simultaneously prayed it would never end and cried out, aching for release.
Her inner muscles milked him, her orgasm igniting through her entire body. He exploded inside her, his warmth filling her until she settled against him, struggling to catch her breath. Her head rose and fell with his chest, and something about knowing he was as out of breath as she was melted her heart.
His thumb stroked her back as he held her. She closed her eyes, a spent smile curving her lips.
He kissed her hair. “My heart is yours.”
His pulse thumped in her ear, strong and steady, just like John. She pressed a tender kiss to his chest. “Best treasure I’ve ever stolen.”
The echo of his laughter swamped her with emotions she’d never experienced before. She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. “I love hearing you laugh.”
His smile softened. “You make me happier than I ever realized I could be.”
She brushed her lips to his and whispered, “I can’t believe I’m falling for a pirate.”
He brought her hand up out of the water, placing a kiss to her wet knuckles. “I am not sorry.”
She laughed, splashing him and wishing like hell she didn’t have to get out of the tub to sell off a fake relic.
Chapter Eighteen
Using a locator spell and a confiscated crystal ball, Agent Bale narrowed his search for his wayward descendant to the tiny seaside town of Darien. Once he rolled into the city limits, he took out his laptop, set up a hot spot, and pinged Chris’s phone. No warrant, but there wasn’t time.
He triangulated the signal and went to work. He finally found Chris on one of the docks in front of Skipper’s Sea Food.
David puffed out his frustrations and started toward the pale kid. “Hey,” he said as he approached.
“Hi.” Chris glanced up, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Restaurant’s not open yet.”
“Yeah.” He leaned on the rail next to Chris, doing his best to keep his cool. He’d been surveilling his distant relative from a distance. The sound of Chris’s voice was like hearing Paul, David’s brother, all over again. Unsettling. David stared out at the water. “I didn’t come for the food.”
“Good thing.” Chris straightened up, sweat beading on his forehead. “Guess I better get going.”
He blocked his exit. “I just want to talk.”
Chris’s shoulders rose, color rising in his cheeks. “Sorry. I’ve got an appointment.”
He shook his head. “You’re in danger. I came to warn you and ask a couple of questions.”
“I’ve gotta go.” Chris turned, trying to get around him, but he pivoted, preparing for Chris to run.
“Chris, I know this sounds nuts, but I need you to listen. The Digi Robins are going down. Get out while you still can.”
“My name is Tuck.” Chris’s lips twitched, and David wished he could see the kid’s eyes behind the dark glasses. “You must have the wrong guy. I’ve never heard of Digi whatever.”
“Tuck? Seriously?” He cursed under his breath. “We don’t have time for this. I’m not here to arrest you, I’m here to save your ass from jail or worse.”
“Worse?” Chris’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“I think your life could be in jeopardy. The Digi Robins stole something recently, and it’s dangerous.” He stopped just short of naming the object, in case the thieves didn’t know what they’d taken or that Harmony had returned it to the government. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but I’m a friend of your family. Please. Get out before it’s too late.”
Chris put his hands up, shaking his head. “Whatever, dude. I’ve got to go.”
He pushed by, and this time David let him go, watching him shrink as the distance between them widened. He had no idea if his warning had been enough, but he had done the best he could. With the box locked in the vault, it couldn’t hurt anyone.
And once Chris was free of the Digi Robins, David could swoop in and make arrests until the dark web group collapsed. Hopefully Chris would take his advice and not find himself caught in the crossfire.
…
John paced the deck of the Sea Dog, waiting on Keegan, Char, and One-Eyed Bob. Harmony had left his place an hour before to grab a change of clothes before her meeting with the buyer. Drake’s work on the box had been meticulous, down to the worn corners. No one would be able to recognize it was a reproduction. He was confident about that much.
But there was too much riding on this deal not to have a backup plan. Harmony might be pissed at him later, but at least she would be safe. He hadn’t been lying when he promised her no cages and no trying to tame her wild spirit. In fact, he wouldn’t change a thing about her.
But he never promised not to protect her.
Bob crossed the gangplank first with a knapsack over his shoulder. He grinned, flashing his pearly white veneers. “You know the captain is going to have our asses in a sling if he finds out about this.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Flynn. You brought it?”
Bob nodded and set the bag on the deck between them. “The Grail is in the sack, but shouldn’t the crew have a vote before she drinks? We voted on the others.”
“As long as everything goes smoothly with the exchange, she won’t be drinking from the cup anyway. It’s just a backup plan.” John looked up as Keegan and Char walked down the deck toward them. “Thanks for coming.”
Char scanned the empty ship and raised a brow. “Does Harmony know we’re here?”
“No, and she never needs to know.”
Char glanced at Keegan and back to John. “Secrets have a habit of blowing up.”
John clenched his jaw, thinking his words through carefully. “All I ask is that you watch the transaction. Once you know it’s finished and Harmony is safe, we’re done.�
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Char had a rare gift. She could astral project, but that wasn’t all. Her spirit had the ability to affect the physical world like a poltergeist. Agent Bale hadn’t been happy about Keegan giving her a drink from the Holy Grail, but Char nearly died saving the crew. She’d earned her spot among them.
John hadn’t discussed the possibility of a sip from the Lord’s cup with Harmony, but if it came to life or death, he needed to know he could heal her. It was a backup plan he wouldn’t need, but it was best to be prepared either way.
Keegan cleared his throat. “Do you know what time the meeting is taking place?”
“Two o’clock, but she didn’t tell me where.”
Char stared out at the water. “I can find her. Once I’m free of my body, if I think of her, I’ll be wherever she is.”
“Good.” John’s nerves were settling already. Once Harmony’s exchange was made, Char could let them know it went smoothly, and Bob could return the Grail to the safe in the basement of his restaurant.
John and Bob followed Keegan and Char to the captain’s quarters at the stern and stepped inside. Char laid on the bed and closed her eyes, her breathing slowed, and finally Keegan glanced over his shoulder at John.
“She’s on her way.”
…
Harmony parked on the street and frowned, checking the address again. She looked over at Tuck. “This is the right address, but…I don’t like this.”
Ever since Trumain changed the location for the exchange, a sick pit festered in her stomach. This was a bad idea. She stared across the street at the nondescript white house with haint blue trim. The powder-blue color was popular in Savannah.
During the yellow fever outbreaks, a few homes that sported the blue porches were untouched by the disease. Legends persisted in the South that the pale blue color tricked ghosts and warded off evil spirits and boo hags. In desperation to keep their families safe, many homes painted the porch ceilings and trim around their doors in the special shade of haint blue.
But it wasn’t the house or the color that had her on edge, it was the remote location. Usually she made exchanges by securing an item in a locker once the money transfer was made. This was—risky.