Glancing around, he surveyed the destruction he'd wrought throughout the master bathroom suite. Bathtub smashed. Walls ripped completely back to the studs. The double sinks and vanity lay in pieces amidst the carnage. The only thing unbroken was the huge mirror that used to hang above the sinks. Still whole and unscratched, Jake's image stared back at him, mocking the calm façade reflected back at him.
Disgusted, he moved the mirror outside the bathroom door, leaned it against an intact wall, went back and packed away all his tools, shut off the lights, and locked the house up tight.
Anxious to get home, he drove the short distance back to his condo in Denver, grabbed a shower and made a couple of calls. He knew Ryan would cover his shifts, his buddy still owed him from Christmas.
Jake couldn't think of one good reason, at least a valid one, but his decision was made.
Watch out Quinton Chase. I'm tired of being your frigging puppet. Think you can pull my strings, mention Cassie's name and I'll come running? You better have a hell of a good explanation for resurrecting her memory after all these years.
Destiny's Desire Lodge, here I come.
# # #
Quinton Chase glanced at the stack of pink message slips, skimmed through them at a rapid fire pace, taking note of callers and messages, and calculated which ones needed immediate attention and what could wait. One message caught his attention and he pulled it free from the rest.
Jake Stone called. Will be arriving Friday evening, February twelfth. Wants to meet with you ASAP. His assistant Marcia's crisp writing was clear and distinct, the message's time showing earlier that morning.
He got my letter. Anticipation surged through Quin like a smooth shot of the finest whiskey, shimmering in his blood and spreading warmth through his veins. Soon, he thought.
As the Fate-Keeper, Quin worked for The Fates. Cursed, he was tasked with reuniting fractured and fragmented souls, bringing together people deemed worthy of the kind of love poets and scholars wrote epic volumes portraying.
Once, millennia ago, Quin's heart held such a love. A love beyond all other loves. At least he'd believed it true. When tragedy rendered his soul-mated connection asunder, he'd tried to defy The Fates themselves, only to fail. Their punishment was unfailingly harsh, extreme, and as yet still unending.
Some days he relished his task of finding those deemed worthy of transcendent love yet unfulfilled and reuniting those souls separated through man's machinations and scheming gone awry.
Most times The Fates spoke and Quin fulfilled their requests, bringing couples to Destiny's Desire Lodge and arranging their happy ending. After nearly a thousand years, and hundreds of moves from country to country, continent to continent, his penance had become more of a burden, a curse, and though he went through the motions, it didn't touch him emotionally. He wouldn't let it.
This case, Jake Stone, was different. Wheels turned even now and things were about to get very interesting. Quin smiled. Let the games begin.
Chapter 2
Cassie moved across the room, or more accurately, suite, and gazed out through the giant wall of windows. Her unrestricted view took in the deep coating of pristine white snow blanketing the trees and ground outside her third floor accommodations, the sparkle nearly blinding in its brilliance as the sunlight reflected off the stark winter display.
"Brad, is all this really necessary?" She turned to the other occupant of the room, watched him stalk into the main living area from one of the bedrooms. Both rooms had been checked thoroughly before she'd even been allowed into the suite.
"Just doing my job, sweetheart." Brad's deep voice resonated through the silence of the room, his Texas drawl sending a shiver down her spine. She couldn't help it. Every time she heard that accent, the slow twang in his words, it took her back to a place and time best long forgotten. Though it never was. She'd be dead and buried before she forgot about Cougar Hills, Texas, and the love she'd left behind.
Stop it.
Instead she focused on Brad and the present, the here and now. Brad Anderson had been her best friend for a lot of years, like the big brother she never had. Their relationship wasn't sexual, it never had been, but his accent and deep baritone touched a place inside her, the velvety tones combined with that bit of country in his speech reminding her of home. Of things she'd once taken for granted and lost.
"Are you finished? Because I'm starving and you promised me a fabulous dinner if I'd skip lunch. Which I did! So, feed me, big man."
Foot tapping on the plush carpet, Cassie stared at Brad. She plucked up the room's key card and slid it into the pocket of her denim skirt, and folded her arms across her chest.
Brad laughed moving to the door and sliding it open, stepping in front of Cassandra, preventing her from going into the hallway. He surveyed the hallway, left to right and back again. His eyes didn't miss a single thing. Stepping through the door, he motioned for her to join him. With a resigned sigh, Cassie followed, pulling the door closed. From past experience she knew to walk on his left side, leaving his right hand free. It was his gun hand and he needed access to the .38 he carried in the shoulder holster under his jacket. Rarely when he was on the job did she see him without it. Or the blade he strapped to his ankle in its custom leather sheath.
Working for the FBI when they'd met five years ago, Brad had been a couple years older than her. There'd been a hard edge to him even back then which intensified over the years. Finally disillusioned with the politics and game-playing behind the scenes, he'd quit the FBI and gone freelance. Now he worked for an elite private security company, providing witness protection and dealing with danger on a routine basis.
Brad had always been there when she'd needed him. They'd met when her life and everything she knew turned upside down and she'd been forced to run for her very life. He'd been there when she and her mother settled in Chicago, losing themselves in the conglomeration of the big city so far away from the small Texas town she'd called home. More frightened than she'd ever been in her life, he'd been her one constant. The two years they'd been on the run before she met him were years she tried hard to forget. Sometimes, occasionally, she could.
The elevator arrived and they rode in silence down three floors to the lobby. The doors slid open with a whoosh. A tall, dark haired, dark-eyed man stood in the open doorway. Impeccably dressed in a stylish charcoal suit and burgundy striped tie, he could have graced the cover of any fashion magazine. Suave, sophisticated and with a hint of danger, his hawk-like gaze bored directly into her.
Brad's face lit with a smile, a look of recognition in his eyes. Cassandra waited. Brad always exited first. He'd drilled the message into her a million times. Right now she was more than happy to let him go first. There was something about the man waiting in the elevator opening, an energy that was almost palpable.
"Good to see you, Quin."
"You, too, Brad. Is everything with your suite satisfactory?" Quinton Chase's voice slid along Cassandra's skin like silk. Oh, man, I am such a sucker for a deep male voice.
"It's perfect. Exactly what we need." Brad quickly made introductions.
"Quinton Chase, this is my . . . friend, Andrea James. Andrea, Quin owns Destiny's Desire and arranged the room for us." After all this time, Cassandra still hadn't adjusted to the name Andrea James. She was Cassandra Daniels—or used to be—though she hadn't heard her real name in a very long time.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Chase. The suite is lovely." Cassandra shook hands with Quin. A soft blush crept across her cheeks at the rumbling sound coming from her stomach. Brad chuckled, pulling her one-armed against his side, hugging her close.
"We're on our way to dinner. I promised her a fabulous meal and it sounds like she needs it."
"I won't keep you. Let me know if there's anything you need during your stay." With a nod to Cassandra, his eyes now warm and friendly, Chase headed past the elevator and down a corridor on the right, opened the closed glass-and-wood door and soon was out of sight.
Walking toward the dining room, Brad explained, "Quin's an old friend who's helped me out in the past with a couple of cases."
"Similar to mine?" Cassandra wondered about his other cases. They'd talked about some in the past, the one's he could discuss anyway. It was a nice perk, she thought, when you get to stay at a high class lodge and spa like this as one of the fringe benefits.
"Not exactly the same thing, honey. They were more a quick stop on the way to a final secure location."
The hostess escorted them to a secluded table for two flanked on one side by an enormous fireplace with real wood logs burning merrily, the flames providing a warmth and cozy charm to the elegant ambience of the room. Floor to ceiling windows spanned the entire dining room. The giant panes of glass provided a picture-perfect backdrop for their meal. Soft music played from hidden speakers, an unobtrusive yet subtle touch adding to the romantic feeling of the table they'd been given.
Time passed quickly as Cassandra ate the veritable banquet. Cooked to perfection, the enormous steak melted in her mouth and she savored each bite.
"Want a taste?" Brad slid his fork into his dessert.
"I couldn't eat another bite." She patted her lips with her napkin and placed it across her plate.
"Come on, babe, one bite. You know you want it." Brad held out a forkful of the most decadent looking chocolate cake she'd ever seen.
"No, I . . . oh, what the hell." Snatching the fork from his hand, she placed the morsel into her mouth. Eyes closed, she savored the delicacy, groaning when the chocolate sensation burst across her tongue.
"Oh. My. Goodness."
Brad laughed aloud. "Yep. Now gimme back my fork, woman."
With a mock frown she handed back his fork and watched him devour the remainder of the cake. He caught her stare and winked, licking the tines of the fork clean.
"I really wish things could have been different between us." Brad's serious tone and direct gaze had her exhaling softly, meeting his serious gaze.
"You know I love you like a brother, Brad, but anything else isn't in the cards for us."
"You've lived on an emotional roller-coaster for a long time. I hoped . . ."
Regret tugged at Cassandra's heart. All hell had exploded around her the day after her senior prom. Three o'clock in the morning her boyfriend had dropped her off, stealing a final kiss under the moonlight. She'd watched him drive away, the taillights of his old junker braking at the stop sign on the corner before turning out of sight. Everything had been so perfect. Who knew the next day everything would change and she'd never see him again?
"You're my best friend, Brad, and I love you to death. I'm just not in love with you. If things were different . . ."
Brad reached across the table, clasping her hand in his, his fingers squeezing tight. His thumb brushed across her knuckles in a soft, soothing motion, before he raised her hand, pressing a warm kiss onto it.
"Even after all these years, he still owns your heart, doesn't he?" His softly voiced question wasn't really a question at all, more a statement of fact. Cassandra nodded.
"Wasn't in the cards for us. But I did get a kick-ass soccer buddy out of the deal."
She smiled at Brad's joke, her heart breaking a little inside. Why couldn't she have loved him? Tall, insanely gorgeous, sexy as hell and the nicest man she'd ever known. Damn fate, anyway, leaving her heartbroken, mourning for a lover she could never have.
"How long do you think we'll be here? Has there been any movement?"
"Nothing yet, but my sources are solid. He's looking for you again. Clayton wanted you in a sanctioned safe house. He sent a team for you and your mom." He laughed. "I just beat 'em to the punch and got you first."
Clayton was head of the high-tech security company Brad worked for. She'd met him on several occasions while visiting Brad and Clayton was aware of all the details surrounding their relationship, both professional and personal.
Cassandra chuckled at his words. "Swooped in and pulled us right out from under their noses. I'm grateful, though. The thought of being stuck in a safe house, people all up in my business, ugh. "
"Clayton is great and gets the job done, most of the time. I still do contract work with the FBI from time-to-time when I'm not on call for him. They're good; I'm better." Brad's grin was infectious. "Trusting your safety to anybody else—so not happening."
Brad stood and walked behind her chair, pulling it out as she'd stood. "Time to get back to the suite. I need to make some calls, talk to my people."
"Good. The sooner my father's caught, the sooner I get my life back. I miss my kids." A preschool teacher for the last few years, teaching prekindergarten and kindergarten students was Cassie's passion. She loved all her students and they adored her. Every day away from them she worried. Her kids were spontaneous, filled with laughter and the joy that came with learning new things every day. Teaching them helped fill the emptiness which sometimes threatened to encompass her.
Walking to the elevator they waited while it descended to the lobby. Stepping inside, she turned to face the front, groaning at one of Brad's stupid jokes. Across the lobby her eyes met those of a dark-haired man standing at the front check-in desk. A surge of electricity burst through her. Her breath caught in her chest.
Recognition roared through her, quickly followed by shock and dismay. Her pulse beat double time and her palms began sweating.
No, not now. He can't be here.
He turned and their eyes met. She knew those eyes, remembered the depth of blue, the sparkle of warmth they held. It couldn't be. Thinking of him all day, she had to be imaging something not really there. He took a step forward toward her as the elevator doors slid closed and he disappeared from sight.
The elevator doors closed and she rode in silence with Brad to the third floor. Her heart whispered to go back and find him. Her head said no, she wasn't safe. Neither was he.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened onto the third floor. Go back or flee?
Her head won.
Chapter 3
It was later than he planned by the time he finally arrived at Destiny's Desire. One thing after another delayed him. Frustrated and beyond irritated, he'd stalked across the lobby toward the check-in desk. The headache behind his eyes throbbed in perfect rhythm with his pulse, pounding a syncopated beat like a thirteen piece percussion band. Extremely loud, clanging-like-a-three-year-old-banging-on-pots-and-pans loud. Grabbing the key card the clerk slid across the check-in counter, he nodded a silent thanks and turned.
There she stood.
Glorious dark hair spilled across her shoulders in curling waves, elegant but not fussy. Sparkling green eyes flashed as she laughed, smiling at the tall man standing beside her. Damn, she was pretty. Beautiful actually. A squeezing around his heart reminded him of how he felt each time he saw her. Beautiful and unique. In his mind, in his heart, she epitomized the picture of how he imagined Cassie would look as a mature woman, seven years older than the seventeen she'd been the last time he'd seen her. The nightmarish day she'd disappeared from his life without a word. Not even good-bye.
There were differences, sure. This woman's hair was darker than his Cassie's had been. A younger, happier Cassie's hair shone a light golden brown with hints of blonde throughout. She'd bucked the trend the rest of the high school girls followed wearing their long straight hair down their backs, and wore hers in a short bob, the longer bangs in the front always getting in her eyes. He'd loved brushing the hair away from her face, tucking a stray bit behind her ear when he'd lean in for a kiss.
He started toward the elevators where his mystery woman disappeared. Pushing the button to follow, he pulled up short, realizing the foolishness of chasing after somebody he didn't even know. Whoever she was, she wasn't his Cassie.
"Idiot. It's not her. It's never her." When Cassie first left, he'd seen her everywhere he went. Spotting a woman across a street with similar coloring and build, he'd rush forward, excited and joyful at finding her; onl
y it wasn't her. It took years to finally stop seeing her in every woman. Now, in one flash, it happened all over again.
"Damn, I must be more tired than I thought. I'm seeing things." Mentally and physically exhausted, he was ready to call it a night, head to bed and hopefully a good night's sleep. Morning would be soon enough to confront Quinton Chase about his mysteriously worded message; It's your turn. What kind of cryptic crap was he trying to pull anyway?
Where the hell is the elevator?
Jake leaned on the wall, back pressed flat against the grass-cloth wallpaper next to the polished chrome and stainless steel elevator doors. The elevators worked, he'd just seen the couple go up in one. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, battling the onslaught of the headache from hell. At the sound of a throat clearing next to him, his eyes flew open and he took a step forward, straightening away from the wall.
"Mr. Stone, I'm Quinton Chase. Glad you could make it."
Jake surveyed the mountain of a man standing before him. Well over six feet tall, probably closer to six four, he was massive, built like a professional wrestler. Quinton Chase probably intimidated a lot of people just by walking into a room. Not him, though. He really didn't give a damn.
"I had a choice?"
Quinton Chase laughed. "We always have a choice, Stone. It's called free will. I don't think anybody could make you do anything you didn't want to."
"Damn straight." Jake answered, eyes narrowed as he watched Quinton Chase. His best friend, Ryan and Ryan's wife Rose liked him, raved about the lodge when they'd returned from their Christmas holiday here. He didn't know Quinton Chase, though, and sure as hell didn't trust him. Something about him seemed—different but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what made him wary.
"I wanted to personally welcome you to Destiny's Desire. As you know, everything for you stay here is compliments of the lodge. I'd like to meet with you in the morning, after you've had a chance to rest and refresh. Perhaps you'd join me for breakfast?"
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 72