Knights of White Bundle

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He swallowed a bite of his burger and reached for his drink. “Your father fulfilled her dream. That means something.”

  “Yes,” she said a bit sadly. “I suppose that’s true.” A sizzle of excitement formed inside her. “I’m looking forward to learning more about the contents. My mother had specific ideas about what was inside. She was obsessed over that journal. I feel driven to see this through for her.”

  “Obsessed is a strong word.”

  “An appropriate word,” Jessica assured him. “That journal became everything to her. She was like a bull charging forward after a prize.”

  “That really isn’t that uncommon,” Des said, taking a drink of his soda. “There are plenty of people who spend lifetimes hunting a piece of history for whatever their personal reasons. Sometimes they feel like it will rewrite history, or that it will change the world. In other cases, I think it’s just that drive to touch a past era one feels connected to.”

  True enough, but it had been her mother’s urgency to find the journal that bothered Jessica. As if a clock had been ticking. She couldn’t help but wonder if her mother knew about her cancer and hadn’t told them. Regardless, Des’s understanding of her mother’s motivations amazed her. If only her father could have shared that understanding as well.

  “She was intrigued by the idea that it held some of Solomon’s greatest secrets,” Jessica said, thinking about what had driven her mother to search so hard. “Secrets with biblical importance.”

  “I’m a bit of a biblical scholar myself,” Des admitted. “Are you speaking of the map said to be inside?”

  She smiled. “You know the story?”

  He inclined his head. “It’s been a while since I read it, but if I remember correctly, the legend says that Solomon guarded a list of bloodlines said to be descendants of angels. The journal is said to hold a map leading to that list.”

  “Exactly,” Jessica agreed. “And that list is enclosed inside a magical box of diamonds and gold said to self-destruct if evil touches it. A box Solomon asked his son, Prince Menelik, to hide in a faraway land, away from his enemies.” She brushed crumbs off her hands. “It’s an intriguing story, but, of course, how much of it is pure myth?” She shrugged. “That’s what I hope to find out. I try to keep an open mind like my mother always did.”

  Leaning back a bit, he paused, a fry halfway to his mouth. “Do you believe in angels, Jessica?”

  The way he asked the question had her doing a double take. Seriousness laced his tone. “My mother always said I had a guardian watching over me,” she commented, a smile playing on her lips as she thought of the bedtime promises of angels from her mother.

  For a moment, Des sat perfectly still. Then he laughed and popped the fry in his mouth, obviously dismissing the subject. “So what other secrets did Solomon hide in the journal?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know if there are any secrets at all. Everything we just said could be a big fairy tale. But my mother believed in the journal, and now we know it’s real.” She paused, frowning, almost thinking she could smell her mother’s perfume.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No,” she said quickly, and continued discussing what her mother had thought to be in the journal. “Sorry. Where was I? Oh yes. The secrets in the journal. My mother would have decoded the content with more ease than most. For her entire career, she studied Solomon, his writing, his way of life.”

  “Surely members of her team have insight into her work?”

  She took a sip of her drink. “To some degree and they’ll assist of course. But you’d be surprised how guarded my mother was over her beliefs regarding that journal. I’ve promised the museum that I’d try to get my mother’s personal diaries to help. Of course, my father is clinging to them. He seems to feel letting them go is letting her go. He hasn’t even let me read them. Not yet, but I will soon. I think he only gave up the journal to keep it safe.”

  She picked at her salad a minute, thinking. “I wonder how the world would respond to a list of people said to be descendants of angels?”

  “Probably get the attention of a few demons,” he commented.

  “Let’s not even go there,” she said, her eyes going wide. “I’d like to think any demons hanging around in Solomon’s time were long ago cast to hell.”

  They began a debate about how that information might be received in today’s times. Would the angelic bloodlines be like royalty or treated as outcasts? Des’s obvious and genuine interest in her mother’s research led them into a long conversation that went well beyond finishing their food.

  A knock on the open door sounded before Michael popped his head around the corner. “I’m headed out. It’s just you two and security.”

  “Night, Michael,” Jessica said, and Des murmured something similar. As Michael disappeared into the hall, she glanced at the clock. “Oh my gosh. It’s nine o’clock and I haven’t even taken you on the tour.” Her cheeks warmed as she darted to her feet. “We didn’t even talk about your potential donation, let alone take the tour. We should do that now. I’m so sorry.”

  Des pushed to his feet beside her, turned to face her. “Don’t apologize. I enjoy talking with you. It’s…calming.”

  “Calming?” She laughed. “What an odd choice of words.” She tilted her chin up to study his expression, trying to understand his meaning, and their eyes locked and held. Her hand went to her stomach, to the flutter of awareness beyond her control.

  “I don’t normally talk so much,” she said, thinking of how shut off she’d been from the rest of the world, wondering what it was about Des that had encouraged communication. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  He reached out and took her hand in his, and she didn’t pull back. Though their potential business relationship deemed anything romantic inappropriate, this man created such amazing feelings inside her.

  “The same thing that came over me the minute I saw you,” he said. “The same thing that kept me hanging on every word.”

  He closed the distance between them with one step, their bodies all but touching.

  “Why is that?” she whispered, her heart playing a beat in her ears, her blood pumping liquid heat through her veins.

  “The same reason I can’t help but do this,” he said, a second before she found herself pulled into his strong arms, his mouth claiming hers, his tongue sliding past her lips.

  Perhaps she should have objected, should have pushed him away. But how could she? The kiss drugged her with passion and pleasure, pulling her into a spell of sensual heat. With that kiss, Des made love to her in a way most men couldn’t do with their entire bodies.

  No. She didn’t object. She didn’t even consider it. Instead, she did just the opposite. For once in her life, she let the prim and proper Jessica slide away.

  And she melted…. Lost in the moment and the man.

  Holding her, touching her, exploring the sweet flavor so uniquely Jessica, Des found himself losing his sense of time, losing reality. In a far corner of his mind, his reaction to Jessica registered as too intense, too all consuming. This wasn’t a normal attraction. Whatever was happening here wasn’t his normal raging lust, driven by the Beast inside that demanded sexual gratification. Yet, the Beast in him still stirred to life, screaming for this woman, for Jessica.

  With extreme effort, Des shackled every ounce of willpower he owned and eased his lips from hers, eased back enough to look into her beautiful blue eyes. His chest tightened with the impact of their connection, and he heard her intake of breath. She, too, felt what he did.

  And he knew in that moment, knew from the potency of emotions that rushed through him, that the destiny he’d felt calling him before he’d left the ranch involved Jessica.

  Everything inside him screamed to take her, to throw her down on the desk and find his way inside her. To make love to her, and claim what was his. His? Holy shit, what was happening to him? Since when did he try to claim a woman? Any woman. Certainly not one as
pure and sweet as this one. She was everything he was not. Everything that he could never have.

  Abruptly, he stepped away from her, afraid he might lose control if he didn’t. “Sorry about that,” he found himself saying, scrubbing his jaw. “I couldn’t seem to help myself.”

  She laughed, nervous, hugging herself. “I thought you said I was calming?”

  “It appears you have quite a few effects on me,” he said, feeling the burn of desire threatening again. “And if we don’t get out of this tiny office soon, I’m going to kiss you again.”

  She bit her bottom lip, and he felt his cock throb in reaction. He needed space to get himself under control and he needed it fast. Fortunately, she moved, walking behind her desk and grabbing her keys, a white card dangling from them. The security card he needed.

  “We can take that tour now if you like?”

  “It’s late.” Once she was outside of the building, he could snag her keys. “Maybe we should do it tomorrow. If you would have time?”

  Her brows dipped. “You seemed pretty urgent about the tour earlier today. I don’t mind staying to show you around.”

  “That’ll take a good long while if we do it right. It’s important, but tomorrow will be fine. I’ll be in town several days.” He gave her a direct look, sensing she feared he was backing out of not just the tour, but the donation. “In all honesty, taking you to dinner was the only thing urgent. I hope we can try again tomorrow night.”

  Relief flooded her features. “Dinner sounds nice.”

  “Excellent,” he said, feeling satisfaction way beyond simple duty. Whatever Jessica was doing to him, she was doing it in a big way. “How about I walk you to your car?”

  A few minutes later, Des was beside Jessica, crossing the well-lit parking lot of the museum. He followed her to her dark blue Volkswagen Bug, thinking the vehicle distinctly feminine. How perfect for Jessica, who embodied softness and beauty.

  Jessica pulled her keys from her purse and hit her security button a moment before she came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, no. No! My tire is flat.” She leaned against her car, deflated by her discovery. “This is so fitting in a day full of nothing but trouble.” He was about to object to being included in that list, but she seemed to realize what she had said and backtracked, adding, “Except you, of course. You aren’t part of the trouble. Sorry. I’ve just had a bad day.”

  Des kneeled next to the tire, hating this charade he had to play with her. “It’s not salvageable,” he said. “Looks like a nail did more than punch a hole, it tore a couple inches of the rubber.” He pushed to his feet and walked to stand in front of her, unable to stop himself from touching her. His fingers brushed a wayward strand of hair from her eyes. “Why don’t I drive you home. Then tomorrow I’ll have it repaired for you. I can even give you a ride to work—maybe we can do the tour early in the morning?”

  She let out a breath. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You aren’t,” he said, and though this was all part of his cover, he enjoyed the idea of taking care of her. It had been a lifetime since a woman had sparked such desires, such protectiveness. A part of him already rebelled at the idea of leaving her. “And by your lunch hour, I’ll have your tire repaired.”

  “You’re sure it’s no trouble?”

  “None at all,” he said, claiming her keys and sliding them into his pocket before closing his hand around hers. “Leave everything to me. I’m parked out front.”

  She looked up at him, trust brimming from her beautiful eyes. And as Des led her toward the street, he prayed for a way to be deserving of this woman. For a way to make truth out of lies.

  Greg parked under the Highway 635 bridge in the deserted section of the downtown warehouse district, darkness surrounding him, thick and heavy. As instructed, he flashed his headlights two times and unlocked his doors. And then he waited, seconds passing like minutes.

  Despite his commitment to his actions, to finally changing his life and not settling for being a nobody, nerves tore him up inside. But he was tired of having nothing. Tired of working his ass off and having prima donnas like Jessica steal his spotlight. But this time, he was turning the tables. As much as he hated her coming back, Jessica’s return had become his impetus to fight back.

  Abruptly, the passenger door opened, and Greg barely contained an instinct to jump, his hand jerking off the steering wheel before he smacked it back down. He’d seen no one approach, heard no one move before a man he knew only as Black Dog slid into the passenger seat. He wore black from head to toe, his square jaw covered in stubble, nose flat. He looked mean, like he’d kill you if you blinked wrong.

  Black Dog led a team called the Hell Hounds who were known for making problems disappear…for a price. A team Greg had dug long and hard to discover, one that would do dirty work no one else would touch. But the Hell Hounds didn’t take just any job. Greg had paid, and paid well, for their trust.

  Not waiting to be asked, Greg handed over the envelope containing a large portion of his savings.

  Black Dog eyed the contents. “We’re in business.”

  “Tonight?” Greg asked, excitement beginning to expand in his chest.

  The man inclined his head and handed him a key. “Check the lockbox at dawn.” He said nothing more, simply opened the door and disappeared into the darkness. Gone.

  Greg sat there, a smile sliding onto his lips. By morning, Senator Montgomery would be all over the news, his home broken into, his late wife’s diaries stolen. The world would know of the theft, as would Segundo. And if Greg was right, and those diaries held the information he suspected they did, Segundo would know that Greg held them captive, that their content offered him leverage to make demands.

  Because even if the journal led its holder to the list of bloodlines, deciphering the genealogy in present day would be no easy task. Jessica’s mother had researched Solomon’s life for years. Her diaries would surely hold her thoughts on tracking angelic genealogy and that would be worth gold to the demon Segundo.

  By dawn, Greg would have the ammunition to ensure Segundo couldn’t kill him without risking the loss of those diaries. Greg would make Segundo keep his promise to turn him into a powerful demon. He’d give Segundo the Journal of Solomon—but not without making those diaries his trump card to receive his immortality.

  Greg would have his power. Segundo would not stop him, nor would anyone else.

  Chapter 6

  Des unlocked the door to Jessica’s apartment and discreetly pocketed her keys. She lived in one of the new hotel-style high-rises that had indoor entry and a doorman. Des stepped aside to allow her to enter her home, willing himself to walk away with a mere kiss good-night. Knowing he wouldn’t if she offered more.

  “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?” Jessica asked, as if reading his mind.

  He pressed his palm into the doorjamb over her head, fighting the urge to touch her. “Do you want me to come in?”

  She wet her lips, nervous. Sexy. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  Aroused, tempted, drawn into the heat of lust and desire, Des stared at her, inhaling her sweet scent. A scent laced with innocence and soft female desire. Stay. Go. An internal war battled inside his head, inside his body. He had the keys, so he couldn’t use that as an excuse to stay.

  “Come in,” she said, easing the door open and stepping inside the apartment, flipping on the light.

  Without a conscious decision to do so, he stepped forward, into temptation, into her world. A place he had no right to enter under false pretenses. His desire, his need and want for this woman wasn’t false though, he reminded himself, justifying his actions.

  To the left of the door, Jessica hung her purse on a coatrack before walking into her living room, which appeared to be a larger version of her office: two high-back chairs, a fluffy couch with big pillows, various pieces of art and history.

  Jessica drew a deep breath as she faced him. “I want you to know, I don’t invite men
to my apartment, no matter what the circumstances.”

  “But you invited me?” he asked, pleased with her confession.

  “I did. And don’t ask why. I can’t answer that.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “I won’t push you, Jessica.” He meant the statement in every way possible. He wouldn’t push her for answers, nor would he push her for more than she offered, no matter how much he wanted it.

  The look in her eyes said she appreciated his declaration. “How about a glass of wine?” she asked. “I’d suggest coffee but I’m not sure my nerves could stand the caffeine.”

  “Wine would be nice,” he murmured, the room surrounding him with the same warmth Jessica made him feel. Unfamiliar in nature, its presence, that warmth stole into his mind, into his limbs.

  She turned and headed into the kitchen, and suddenly he needed to tell her the truth. It was as if one of the Archangels had whispered in his ear, as if Raphael had told him the truth would set him free.

  He charged after Jessica, flipping the earpiece off so no one could hear their conversation. He found her facing the counter, reaching into an overhead cabinet.

  Des didn’t hesitate in the doorway, barely glancing at the gleaming white stove and refrigerator or checkered tile. He approached Jessica, his intention to talk to her somehow lost, if only temporarily.

  Closing in on her from behind, he framed her body. His arms caged her in front of him, his palms pressing on the counter. “Jessica,” he whispered.

  She sucked in a breath and then shivered, and he knew she felt this craziness as much as he did, this burn that seemed to demand they come together. He nuzzled her hair, the silky strands caressing his cheek, the floral scent teasing his nostrils.

  She leaned back a bit, as if trying to absorb his presence, and her hand went to his cheek. The softness of the touch both soothed him and set him on fire. The primal part of him responded, the Beast screaming with hunger, screaming to take her. To pull her lush backside against his throbbing cock.