Hunter straightened. “Know what?”
“She moved out. She’s got her own studio apartment now.”
“My sister?” His head pounded. Between his earlier confrontation with the beautiful shrink and then unexpectedly running into Reed, his head was already spinning, and now this?
There was not enough beer to handle this shit.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” Hunter asked.
Reed shrugged. “Maybe it was a surprise?”
Hunter rubbed the bridge of his nose. The buzz he’d been nursing was gone, and without it, clear thought wandered back in. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Not from me.” Reed finished his beer and shook his head. “Call your mom. She’ll be happy to see you.” He gripped Hunter’s shoulder. “Once you’re settled in, let’s get together. Still remember how to surf?”
Hunter chuckled and resisted reminding Reed that Hunter still had one more championship surfing medal than Reed had. “Like riding a bike, right?”
“You hope.” Reed nudged him. His cell buzzed. He checked the text and sighed. “Gotta go haggle with the mechanic for my truck.” He headed for the door. “See you soon, man. If you don’t call, I’ll be calling you.”
Hunter nodded, letting the door close before he fished out a couple of bills to leave on the bar. He put his Special Forces watch back on, ignoring the throbbing of the rash on his wrist. Usually he came home from missions eager to sink back into life, but this time half his heart was still in the desert outside of Afghanistan. With Briggs.
Wherever the hell he was.
CHAPTER 2
Callie stuffed her trash back into the bag and dropped it in the receptacle. When she lifted her gaze, the door to the cantina opened and out came Hunter Armstrong. Simultaneously her heart thumped and her head screamed at her to avert her eyes and get her ass back to her office.
Luckily, she was very experienced at ignoring her hormones and allowing her head to take the lead these days. She picked up the pace. He probably hadn’t even seen her. And even if he had, he made it very plain that he had no intention of talking yet so he’d steer clear of her either way.
“Doc?” His deep voice resonated all the way to her toes.
Dammit.
She took a breath and turned around, hoping she looked surprised. “Captain Armstrong. If you’re ready to talk now, I might be able to fit you in at the end of the day…”
Her words died on her lips as she stared up into his eyes. She didn’t have to be at the top of her field to see he was in pain. Her tone softened. “Are you all right?”
He frowned and checked his watch. Weird.
His attention shifted her way again as he cleared his throat. “Do you know how to surf?”
“Do I surf?” What the hell was he talking about?
“Yeah, in the ocean, standing on a board?” The playful smile he’d worn when he had first walked into her office was back, along with that dangerous twinkle in his eyes.
And the Muse inside her was eating it up, hungry for more. She needed to shut this down. Now.
“I know what surfing is,” she snapped. “And no, I don’t surf.”
“Or you don’t know how.” He raised a brow.
A challenge.
Callie crossed her arms and shook her head. “I thought I made it clear before, but I don’t date patients.”
“Did I ask you on a date?” He matched her posture, which made his biceps impossible to miss.
“So you were just taking a poll?” She struggled to keep from picturing him in board shorts without his shirt.
Too late.
“Something like that.” He tilted his head slightly. “I could teach you.”
Oh damn. Her weakness for epic adventure was clawing forward, aching for the danger this guy was offering. This patient.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get back to my office,” she said.
“Hey, Callie.”
His use of her first name stopped her in her tracks. She turned around slowly, frowning.
His hands were at his sides, and the sweep-em-off-their-feet smile was gone. “I might be a little rusty, but I used to be pretty good. Just don’t want to make an ass of myself in front of the other guys, so I’m heading out to surf tomorrow. You could come.”
An unexpected chuckle escaped her lips. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Never.” The intensity in his gaze warmed her skin.
She sighed. “I’m your therapist. We don’t hang out together, we work. In my office.”
“We’ll see.” He smiled and walked toward the beach.
She watched him go, enjoying the view a little too much and shook herself back to reality. How had he known her first name? Their appointment had been brief, and neither of them had volunteered much.
When he was closer to the water, he picked up a rock and sent it sailing out over the waves. She shook her head, forcing herself to move. Staring at the way his jeans clung to his ass again was not helping her keep her mind focused on business.
But there was something about him. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. Not yet.
Callie got back to her house just after six o’clock and changed into her running clothes. Before she made it out the door, her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Callie. It’s Erica.”
Her shoulders tensed. Ever since their sister Nia had been murdered—and the police had narrowly saved their theater from being blown up—Callie dreaded surprise calls. It was rarely good news.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
Erica paused. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Callie frowned at the phone. “Why?”
“Because we’re all here waiting for Mel to try on wedding dresses and you aren’t here. I have a chair saved.”
“Oh shit!” Callie slapped her hand to her forehead. “I’m the worst maid of honor ever.”
Erica chuckled. “We all know you just wanted to make an epic entrance. Get your tiny ass over here.”
“Be there in twenty minutes, max.” She ended the call and tossed her phone on the couch, stripping her running clothes off as she made her way down the hall toward her bedroom.
Her run-ins with Hunter Armstrong had kept her off-balance all day. Damn him.
Surfing? Really?
But ever since he put it in her head, she couldn’t get the image of his tan chest out of it.
She pulled on a red top and her black pencil skirt, ran a brush through her hair, and added some matching red lipstick.
One last check in the mirror. Close enough.
She stepped into her black flats and hustled for the car.
By the time she got to the wedding boutique, her sisters were already on their second glasses of champagne. Mel, who also happened to be the Muse of Tragic Poetry, met her at the door with a tight embrace.
Callie breathed her in. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Mel pulled back with a grin. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried the Kronos masks were back.”
Callie chuckled, shaking her head. Mel always thought in worst-case scenarios, although those guys in the Kronos masks did try to kill them a couple months ago. “No tragedy here,” she said, “just…distracted.”
Mel frowned. “Anything I can help with?”
She shook her head again. “You already broke the pact.”
“What’s this?” Erica, who was the Muse of Lyrics, came over, swirling her champagne around in her glass with one hand and giving Callie a full flute with the other. “I’m not the only one desperate for a man?”
Callie rolled her eyes. “I’ve got enough to worry about without adding a hot guy to the mix.”
“So he’s hot?” Erica raised her glass with a twinkle in her emerald-green eyes.
“Enough. He’s a patient so nothing’s going to happen.” She huffed and added, “But he’s tenacious, I’ll give him that.”
They gathered in the si
tting area, and Callie took a swallow of her champagne, desperate to relax. Being inside a bridal shop was giving her flashbacks to her ill-fated wedding she’d rather forget. She needed to focus.
As Mel headed for the dressing room, Callie leaned in closer to the group, lowering her voice. “I talked to Nate about taking Mel and Maggie to Disneyland for the bachelorette party. He’s game.”
Maggie was an adorable seven-year-old who had already seen more tragedy in her short life than most adults ever would. But Mel and Nate were in the process of making her future brighter. With any luck, the adoption papers would be finalized before they walked down the aisle.
And a few months later, Maggie would be a big sister.
Mel seemed so damned happy, and that was saying something for the Muse of Tragic Poetry. Her first instinct always leaned toward the negative, but Nate had a knack for pulling her back from the brink. They made a good team.
It was tough not to be a little jealous, but Callie had resigned herself to being single. Even after the theater opened, she had no intention of breaking the no-dating pact. But not because men were a distraction. It was for their own protection. No man deserved the heartbreak she’d bring into his life…
Enough.
Callie stared at the faces around her. These women each carried the reborn spirit of a different muse inside of them, and each was amazing in her own right. And Callie loved every one of them. Late at night, her heart still ached for the loss of Nia, the Muse of Astronomy, but Mel’s impending marriage, her pregnancy, and the addition of sweet little Maggie to the family had helped ease the pain and gave all of them something positive to focus on, even though the threat on their own lives still lingered in the shadows.
Mel’s police detective fiancé, Nate, had killed one of the men in a gold Kronos mask, but the other one had gotten away. And there could be more.
“Is he going to meet us at Sleeping Beauty’s castle?” Clio, the Muse of History, asked. The question pulled Callie back into the conversation.
“Yeah.” Callie nodded. “He’s going to surprise Mel and bring Maggie with him.”
Thalia, Lia for short, giggled, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Can’t wait to see their faces.”
Lia was the Muse of Comedy, and smiles lit her up like the Empire State Building. Her laughter was contagious, lifting Callie’s spirits more than the champagne had.
Callie set her glass on the sitting table. “Everyone got the day off work, right?”
Erica nodded, and her roommate, Trinity, the Muse of Music, smiled. “It’s on the calendar.”
Polly, the Muse of Harmony and their benefactor for the theater, checked down the hallway for any sign of Mel before scooting in closer. “I’m buying all the Disneyland passes.” Before anyone could object, she tilted her head and added, “My trust fund won’t even feel it.”
Callie chuckled. “Fine. So no excuses to miss it.” She shifted her gaze to Tera, the Muse of Dance. “No classes that day?”
She shook her head. “I got a sub. I’ll be there.”
“Perfect. I reserved a limo for the trip so we can all ride in one—” She stopped talking and pressed her lips together when Mel came out of the dressing room.
She walked toward the mirrors eyeing them. “What’s all the whispering about?”
Callie straightened and reached for her glass. “Just telling everyone about the Navy SEAL who wants to teach me to surf.”
Mel raised a brow. “He obviously doesn’t know about your pact.”
“Our pact,” Callie corrected. “You’re the only one who caved.”
Mel stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Yeah. I opted for happily-ever-after instead.”
Callie rolled her eyes while the wedding dress consultant fiddled with clips in the back to make the dress fit better.
The mermaid style accentuated Mel’s little baby bump, and she ran her hands down her barely swollen abdomen. She looked over at them. “I don’t know if I want the pregnancy to be the focal point.”
Callie smiled. “You’re glowing, Mel.”
The others chimed in, too, but Mel wasn’t sold. This wasn’t the dress. The next three weren’t winners, either. Finally, she came out of the dressing room in an ivory lace A-line dress, and Callie’s breath caught in her throat. It didn’t have the bling that some of the others had, but it kept all the focus on Mel and not her growing belly.
“Wow,” Callie said.
Mel grinned, her eyes sparkled. “You like it?”
“You’re gorgeous.”
Their sisters all agreed. Mel checked the mirror one more time. While she stared at her reflection, the consultant came over with a veil. She placed it in Mel’s hair, and Callie’s eyes welled with tears.
Mel laughed and opened her arms, her voice catching a little as Callie embraced her. “I feel like a bride.”
Callie pulled back and nodded. “You are a bride. And Nate is a lucky man.”
Their sisters surrounded them. Hugs, laughter, and happy tears filled the room.
The only thing missing was Nia.
Ted Belkin stared through the one-way glass at the man strapped into a chair facing the flashing images of Kronos and the Titans. Ted glanced at Leo, the elderly scientist in the lab coat standing beside him. “When will Bryce be ready?”
“His re-education is almost complete, then he’ll go through more weapons training.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Ted sighed. “I can’t delay the building permits for that damned theater much longer. Our new enforcer needs to be willing to kill every one of them if it comes to that.”
“The Order of the Titans has remained intact and secret because we’re careful,” Leo said. “Rushing leads to mistakes.”
Ted ground his teeth. “This could be the generation that ruins us, Leo. Clean energy, electric cars, solar panels…” He shook his head. “Our off-shore drilling facility is getting closer to Tartarus, but it takes money. Money we won’t have if these bitches spread their inspiration around. All the clean-energy, save-the-earth patsies are already choking us with new legislation and taxes. What if they decide they don’t need our oil anymore? What then, Leo? This is our chance. We know who the muses are now. We don’t have time to waste.”
Leo stepped in closer, his silver hair slicked back from his forehead. “Every mind has a different breaking point. Bryce came to us wanting to join and make a difference, but the conditioning and obedience take time. Your patience will be rewarded.”
Ted poked his finger into the quack’s chest. “I had Bryce doing surveillance for me weeks ago without your ‘conditioning’. He can handle this.”
An eyebrow shot up over the black frame of Leo’s glasses. “Watching a woman and murdering one are two very different things. We cannot risk him questioning his orders. He needs to be willing to sacrifice everything, even his life, for our cause. Give me the time, and I’ll give you an enforcer who will stop the Theater of the Muses from opening, even if he has to kill every last muse to do it.”
Ted’s heartbeat echoed in his ears. His father, Ted Belkin, Sr., was the leader of the Order of the Titans, and the group was the product of generations of humans struggling to bring back Kronos. Before Zeus banished them, Kronos and the Titans were gods with the power to protect mortals, not to watch from the sidelines as if the human race were some kind of inconsequential ant farm.
His father wasn’t a loving man, and he’d tasked his only son with overseeing the new enforcer’s training. If it went according to plan, then for the first time in Ted’s life, his father would be pleased with him. Maybe even proud of him.
He wasn’t about to let this brainiac fuck things up for him. The Order would welcome back the Golden Age of Man, and Ted would be remembered, not as the son of an oil tycoon, but as a visionary, a savior.
Ted narrowed his eyes. “You have one week. Get it done.”
He spun on his heel, leaving before Leo could reply. Ted got into his car and d
rove out of the compound. While Bryce had been sequestered here, Ted had been monitoring the muses, taking notes on their places of employment, as well as attempting to connect each human woman with the muse he suspected had been awakened inside of her.
Killing the Muse of Astronomy had barely slowed them down, and the Muse of Tragic Poetry ended up with a detective boyfriend who had a sixth sense when it came to her safety. It was too dangerous to pursue her right now.
Ted shifted his focus. They needed to take out a leader, a loss that would have the group scrambling. It was easier to thin the herd if they weren’t united.
He parked his car under a tree on Lothlórien Lane, shadowing him from the streetlamp. Straight across from him was Callie O’Connor’s house. She lived alone, but since Nia’s death and the near misses they’d had with Melanie Jacoby, the house now sported a security camera on every corner.
This wasn’t Ted’s first time on her street. He’d seen the others come and go. This was their meeting place, and judging by the Tolkien reference in the street name, he’d bet money Callie was the human vessel for the Muse of Epic Poetry.
And once Bryce was ready, she’d be their next target.
CHAPTER 3
Hunter walked to the front door and hesitated. The cracked walkway was unchanged, the roses on either side of the door were blooming like they always had, and the kitchen window box was still filled with little pots of succulents. Yet everything seemed different. Time had slipped through his fingers.
He hadn’t been here in over two years.
When he’d joined the military, he hadn’t been able to think of another way to save his family. But as the time grew between visits, the guilt festered. Finding excuses became easier than dragging his ass home. Somehow everything he did to help his mother and sister mutated, and when he turned around, he’d become the man he’d sworn he would never be.
For a second, he was tempted to turn around and quietly return to the hotel on base. But while he was a lot of things, a chickenshit wasn’t one of them. Hunter knocked on the door.
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