“That means immortal.”
“If I have enough strength I will tell you all about his life as a child growing up here in Amsterdam, but my time is running out. There are other things I must tell you.”
“More important than my son?”
“More important than us.” She took a moment to swallow. “I,” she hesitated as a wave of pain crossed her face. “I must tell you.”
He grabbed her hand willing his own body’s strength into it. He was not a sorcerer, but if there was a god anywhere he wanted them to hear his silent prayer. Let this woman speak.
“I broke my sacred oath to Amun-Ra and did things for you I shouldn’t have. I did it…” She gasped for breath. In a weaker voice she continued. “I did it because I love you.”
He nodded. “You never said anything.”
“Telling you about the amulets did not break my vows, though it weakened them. But in the end, I travelled in a dream to Sadie Stewart and bent her mind. I did that for you. So that you could have The Emerald Ankh and save Rashida. But it broke the sacred bonds of Karma that hold us all in place. And so now I lay dying.”
“Bullshit. You were poisoned. You said so yourself.”
“Khalid was just the instrument, the manifestation of justice on this plane.”
“He’s our son.”
“Our teenage son, who needs guidance.”
I’ll give him guidance. The guidance of the back of my hand, just like my father gave me. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t have the strength to…” She wheezed out the raspy cough of death as her muscles convulsed.
“Is there nothing I can do?” Bakari said these words more to the room than to the dying mother of his child.
Her breathing stuttered.
His throat tightened.
With one last breath she said, “The amulet grows stronger. Now that it has been used for personal gain, it will draw dark forces. You must protect yourself… protect the world. Get my wand to…”
He leaned in to hear her voice which had turned into a whisper, but she was no longer there.
The wand wrapped in a parchment paper fell from her hand onto the wood planking making a distinct thud that he would remember for the rest of his life.
43
Chapter Forty-Three
Venice, Italy, Two weeks later
The warm August sunshine reflected off the water of the Grand Canal making it sparkle like faeries dancing a magic tango on top of it. The mid-day heat rippled the air. Vaporetti and gondolas carrying smiling tourists with cameras slide along the ancient waterway. Ornate palaces that looked like they came out of a fairy tale book lined the sides of the canal. Laughter and cheers of joy spilled into the air. Sebastian held his course in his yacht.
He pressed his lips together. Sadie had said she needed time to close down the case and tie up loose ends, time to do her modelling gig and take care of Mitchell, and… basically time for everything but him. She had promised to meet him in Venice in two weeks. She’d said they’d have their own time then.
Counting the hours until the two weeks were done had been difficult. And now, like a love-sick fool he waited. Two days had gone by and still no Sadie. She could be in trouble, but he didn’t think so. She’d probably decided to not get involved with him. Too much work… too much trouble. He had no illusions about her need for independence. It was one of the things he loved most about her. Had she decided he was a complication in her life she didn’t need?
He felt hollow like his insides had been scooped out. He’d never met a woman like her. Her beauty—her balls, her sweetness—her toughness. She was a woman of contrasts, a woman of heart. And a woman with a hell of a lot of secrets. His eyes filled. Godverdomme he couldn’t imagine living without her.
Scanning the horizon he wondered how many days he should wait. Why hadn’t she called? A horn blew behind him and he looked around.
A small motor boat made way on his Port side, Sadie was at the wheel wearing a delicate black lace Venetian carnival mask that accentuated her moss green eyes. With her full lips she smiled up at him and he stopped breathing. His heart jack hammered in his chest. Pure joy rose within him in a flash. “Sadie?”
“Hey sailor looks like you’re going my way.” With a wide smile, she threw him a rope and he pulled her boat alongside his and secured it with a strong knot.
He offered her his hand and her lithe body slipped up the side of his hull and boarded his boat in short order. She stood before him looking as radiant as ever. The love of his life.
Five horn blasts came from behind him. The warning of disaster. “Dio…Dio…”
Seb turned to see his boat was heading for another and he grabbed the tiller just in time to avert disaster. Sadie put her hand on his arm and laughed. And then he laughed. And then they were in each other’s arms.
He broke their first kiss with a low groan. “I know you like danger, but…”
***
Sadie nuzzled her head into his massive chest. Never had she been kissed with such fervor. He smelled of the sea and so damn masculine it made her fingernails curl into his flesh. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Sebastian smoothed her windblown hair away from her eyes. ”Don’t apologize. I know you were busy.”
She took a step back. Busy, that’s an understatement. “Wait till I tell you the whole story.”
His roguish grin appeared. “Really? You came here to tell me stories?” His sun streaked shoulder length hair looked ruffled, his day old beard rugged and his blue eyes tired but happy.
How did he always know what to say to her? Her stories could wait. The time for two of them to be together and make their own stories had come. “Do you know how to dock this boat?” she asked.
“Just tell me where princess.” He traced her cheek. His touch sent quivers through her system.
“I left my luggage in the lobby of the Bella Giornata.”
He turned the boat around.
“I’ve never taken a lover there.”
His look so hot it sizzled touched all her senses at once, telling her more than a thousand words ever could. That was his way.
***
Three wonderful days and three even more wonderful nights later, they lay entwined in each other’s arms, sated with passion, filled with love and content. Sadie sighed. “You’re one hell of a sailor.”
Tracing her hip with his hand he chuckled. “And you’re one hell of a spook.”
She put her hand on his rock hard chest and rose above him. Looking into his rugged face made her heart stop. She’d wanted to say something, but she’d lost the words. She blinked.
Laughing, he grabbed her hips and flipped her under him. “I want you to come back with me to Amsterdam.” He said, his tone urgent. “At least for a couple of weeks. We need time to give our relationship a proper start.”
Smoothing his back with her hands she replied, “Only if you promise to never stop getting in my way.”
The End
∞
A Letter from Jo-Ann
Dear Readers,
“Every time a reader leaves a review an aspiring writer gets a new pencil.”[i]
It may sound like a cheesy-line, but it’s true. Reviews help readers find books. Please take a few minutes and write a review. Don’t be intimidated by the task. I’m not asking for a book report, just a review. All you need to do is string a few words together. If you’re stuck, I’ll give you some examples: 1) I loved Covert Danger and can’t wait to read Carson’s next book. Or 2) Covert Danger is filled with danger and a touch of the paranormal. I enjoyed it. 3) Sex, intrigue and mystery. A short fun read. The best place to post reviews for me is on Amazon. The next best is Goodreads. I’d love both. Word of mouth and written reviews are pure gold for budding writers, like me.
You can learn about my latest publications from my newsletter (sign up here). Want to connect? My home on the Internet is my Website, which contains all my social media links.
; To send me a personal note, you can email me at [email protected]. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the story.
On the next few pages you’ll find information about the other books in the Mata Hari series, and my Vancouver Blues series. As a bonus feature, I have added the first chapter of the next novel in the series, Ancient Danger.
Thank you for reading my story.
Jo-Ann
[i] Bobby Adair, Ebola K
Also by Jo-Ann Carson
A Ghost & Abby Series
Midnight Magic
I Messed Up Christmas
Death by Seance
* * *
The Gambling Ghosts Series
A Highland Ghost for Christmas
A Viking Ghost for Valentine’s Day
Confessions of a Pirate Ghost
The Biker Ghost Meets His Match
* * *
The Vancouver Blues Series (Danger waits in the alley …)
Steamy Romantic Suspense:
Black Cat Blues
Ain’t Misbehavin’
* * *
Mata Hari Series (A single woman ~ A double life)
Steamy Romantic Suspense:
Covert Danger
Ancient Danger
Lovin’ Danger
* * *
Writing as Doomsday Carson
Bête Noire
About the Author
Jo-Ann Carson has lived most of her life on islands off the west coast of Canada, surrounded by snow covered mountains, lush rain forests and pristine beaches.
Growing up, she dreamed of traveling the world like James Bond, searching for relics like Indiana Jones, and finding true love, so it’s no surprise that in her Mata Hari Series she combines elements of adventure, danger and steamy romance.
In her Vancouver Blues Series she slides into the realm of Urban Noir and explores the dark side of the city. These books are mainstream suspense with strong romantic elements and are very-Vancouver.
Excerpt from Ancient Danger
CHAPTER 1
Venice, Italy
October
Stifling the desire to scream, Sadie stood on top of the fourteenth-century Venetian palazzo looking out over the lagoon and its islands. No point risking the lives of others. She took a deep breath of the salty air blowing in off the Adriatic Sea. The red-tiled rooftops, round domes and cathedral spires of the ancient city spread to the west. For hundreds of years noblemen had used this perch to watch the arrival of merchant ships from the Orient with their exotic wares. Now it had become her trap.
Below, an opera singer in the bow of a gondola serenaded young lovers nestled inside, while the gondolier at the stern in his blue and white striped shirt navigated the still night waters. Venice, a city steeped in history and secrets, a place where anything could happen in a heartbeat and did; a sanctuary for people like her who wanted to disappear. It was her second home.
Happy sounds of the party roared around her, while her heart stilled. Sadie kept her cover-girl smile in place, as a tingle crawled across her scalp. Why tonight of all nights?
She’d been with Sebastian for six months, not always in the same geographical location, but together-together in the way that really counts—in the heart. Tonight was their six month anniversary and she’d wanted everything to be perfect. That’s why she’d chosen to meet him in Venice.
The fact that a big masquerade ball had been planned for a charity they both supported made it all the more perfect. She looked around, taking in the success of the event with her eyes and the danger with her mind.
Who could recognize her? A black lace mask fashioned by a local artist covered the top half of her face. She’d dressed in a red, silk and satin Marie Antoinette gown that hid her model thin stature. She blended well with the reveling crowds that packed the Restaurant terrazza.
Inside, a band dressed in embroidered gold knickers and topcoats played modern dance music heavy on the sax. Their sultry music set a provocative tone. The smell of expensive perfumes and the sweat of people hungry for excitement saturated the warm night air with a growing sense of anticipation that had a throbbing pulse of its own.
Curling a loose tendril of her long red hair around her index finger, Sadie studied the moment, slowing it down, soaking in every detail. What had she been thinking, leaving herself so exposed? Had she been thinking? She swallowed.
Fifteen yards to her left loomed the predatory male. Closing in.
Watching him from the corner of her eye for the last ten minutes she’d assessed the threat level. Way too high for her liking. Tall, lean and sturdy like a basketball center, the man had a fluid and menacing air about him as if he readied for battle. He wore a black woolen cape over black clothes, a tricorne hat over a white wig and a gold, baroque, satiro mask. It was the popular carnivale guise of the satyr, a creature from Greek mythology known for reveling in the pleasures of the flesh and it covered the man’s identity well, but not his intent.
He looked at her as if she had a bulls-eye on her forehead, and the way he moved, stealth-like, hunting his prey, set off her warning bells. The hair on the nape of her neck rose. He could be an assassin sent to kill her to make her secrets disappear, or he could be someone from her past wanting revenge in a more personal way. Given her former life as a spy, many possibilities came to mind. She balled her fists, letting the sharp edges of her nails pierce her skin.
She searched for his hands, but they were hidden beneath his long, black cloak. Did he have a weapon? Her senses sharpened as she scanned the area again. He appeared to be alone.
Two couples close to her chatted about the fruity bouquet of their wine. One tasted an edge of oak, another chocolate. Not a friend in sight. Pulling up her heavy skirt, she prepared to move if he came closer. In peak condition she could run fast, but her gown and stupid shoes would slow her down. Perhaps enough to get caught this time. And then what?
The satyr took another step towards her and they made eye contact for the first time. A cold connection zapped between them, like the kiss of a lizard. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and she shivered.
Escape. She had to escape. People flooded the terrace and restaurant inside, like a tightly knit school of piranha. She could barely breathe let alone move, the place was so packed. Where were the security men? She’d insisted they hire an extra team of trained people, because there would be so many wealthy people attending. Big money draws crime. Had they been distracted? Distracted professionals—that was never a good sign. She licked her lips and edged away from her hunter.
If only she could slip into the shadows. But there were none. Exposed and vulnerable. She couldn’t scream for help, because that would force the stalker to make a move. That could get nasty. Squeezing her fists more tightly she waited for her moment, knowing that choosing it wisely could be a matter of life or death.
So many people—innocent people. She couldn’t let anyone get hurt. Not because of her, and the choices she’d made in her life. As her pulse quickened, the irony of the situation humored her. She had suggested this site for the charity ball, because it looked like an enchanted palace in a storybook, and they were raising money for childhood cancer research. Now she’d been trapped in her fantasy. She looked down. Another black gondola left its mooring carrying lovers through the night. If she could go back in time…
Turning to face the crowd, she scanned the party for Sebastian. He’d left her side twenty minutes ago to take an urgent phone call from his aunt’s doctor. Had that call been staged?
Not that Sadie needed a man to rescue her. She could take care of herself. But it would be nice to see him and his broad shoulders right about now.
Elaborate masks and costumes made it hard to tell who the bad guys were. Or how many. But it still appeared the satyr hunted alone.
She reviewed her options once more. She’d love to phone for help, but lifting her big skirt to remove the cell-phone strapped to the inside of her right thigh would cause too much commotion a
nd give the satyr time to pounce. She fidgeted.
The satyr’s stare burned the side of her head. So disgusting. No matter how this night ended, she’d hate the satyr mask forever.
The cacophony of voices speaking many languages and dialects grew louder. The party had hit its zenith.
At moments like this, adrenalin pushed her senses to the extreme. The crowd became one large pulsating body of humanity. She could feel and smell the longing of unfulfilled desires in the crowd. A transcendental moment before all hell broke loose.
Looking over her shoulder, she spied him ten yards away. His mouth was unusually empty of expression, as if he’d faced his existential wall and lost. His dark eyes glared. She grabbed the stone banister with both hands and scrambled to the top. Once on her knees she pulled herself to a standing position. The breeze cooled her skin as she found her balance like a gymnast.
People gasped. “Dio, Dio,” one man cried. A murmur of concern spread through the crowd as they turned to look at her, the crazy woman
“Tell Sebastian Wilde I need him,” she yelled at the wide-eyed group of people near her, hoping someone might know the popular art dealer and understand her message. At the very least, the people with their eyes on her would get the desperation of her dramatic act and call the police. The confusion created by her climb would make it harder for her stalker to pounce. She gritted her teeth, hoping the man in black would disappear into the shadows from which he’d oozed.
But he didn’t. She exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. Pushing back his cloak, the stalker quickened his pace and moved to close the gap between them.
The top of the foot-wide marble railing had been built sturdily, and she could stand on it as long as she didn’t look down. She most definitely couldn’t look down. Edging to the east she focused on keeping her footing steady and breathing. She needed oxygen to fuel her muscles. She’d been trained to handle adrenalin rushes. Steady breathing—would do the trick. She could do this. As long as she didn’t… Her right foot slipped. Damn the stupid shoes. She kicked one off, then the other. People below started yelling and looking up. The marble felt cool to her feet. Her skirt brushed the surface and she pulled it up with her hands.
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