That only reminded her of her cruel outburst, spoken from the depths of a rare anger. “I’m not usually a violent person,” she protested weakly.
“Exactly,” he said, and there was no doubting the smugness in that single word.
The attitude was so very Damian. It made her smile at last, and she sighed her own satisfaction, lying there in the circle of his arms, listening to the silence outside their hotel room, the occasional slam of a door down the hall. And then her stomach rumbled loudly.
“We need to feed you,” he murmured in his deep, sexy voice, his hand slipping down between her thighs, rubbing her clit idly, skimming through the cream of her orgasm. He chuckled arrogantly when her pussy clenched and she jerked against him.
Casey reached up and yanked his hair. “No teasing.”
His only answer was a thrust of his hips against her ass, his thick cock sliding easily through the swollen folds of her soaking wet pussy and deep into her body. “Does that feel like I’m teasing, Cassandra?” he asked. And her entire body tightened.
She moaned, pushing her ass against him in demand, protesting when he pulled out, crying out her relief when he rolled her to her back and spread her legs, slipping between her thighs and plunging his cock deep into her.
“I want to see your face,” he murmured, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, the corners of her mouth. “I want to watch you come.”
She wrapped both arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Damian,” she whispered, overcome by the emotion of the moment.
“Wrap those beautiful legs around me,” he growled, as he fucked her slow and easy, gliding on the juices of her climax, her breasts crushed against his chest.
Casey squeezed him between her thighs, relishing the scrape of her nipples through the rough hair on his chest, the tender skin of her thighs as his hips flexed, driving himself in and out of her pussy. She held him close, loving the weight of him crushing her into the mattress, the hard press of his muscles as he grew closer to climaxing, every thrust gaining urgency. It made her feel feminine and powerful to know this beautiful man could be so turned on by her, so driven to come not once, but twice.
Her own arousal snuck up on her, her pussy tingling, nerves alive and singing with desire. Her inner muscles contracted suddenly, squeezing his cock, and her gasp of surprise became a tortured groan when Damian grabbed her ass in both hands and lifted her higher, changing the angle of his penetration so he could go deeper, harder, his balls slapping her ass with every thrust.
Casey struggled to breathe as her climax built, her heart galloping in her chest, crushing her lungs as the orgasm crashed over her. She came hard, crying out as her sex clenched tightly, moaning when his cock bucked inside her and he crashed over the edge with her, his orgasm filling her with heat as they clung together, until finally they collapsed, shivering in the cool air. Damian reached down and pulled the sheet up over their sweat-soaked bodies.
They lay there a long time, exhausted, hearts pounding in rhythm, until Casey finally sighed. “The burgers are probably cold,” she said woefully, hungrier than ever. Sex with Damian burned a lot of calories. “Do you think they’d bring us new ones?”
Damian was stroking his hand up and down her back. It was big and warm and soothing, and if she hadn’t been so hungry, she’d have fallen asleep.
“I’m sure Bonnie won’t mind,” he murmured.
“Bonnie?” she repeated sharply.
He chuckled. “I knew you were jealous,” he said, his delight obvious.
She slapped his hard-as-a-rock belly. “Maybe this time they’ll send a guy to flirt with me.”
“Not if he values his life,” he snarled, just as both of their stomachs rumbled in unison.
“I’ll call in the order,” she said briskly, bending over to kiss him as she climbed from the bed.
“And I’ll answer the door when it comes,” he said, caressing her breast as he slid from the big bed after her.
“Okay, but put some clothes on this time,” she said playfully. But then her phone chimed an incoming text, the screen giving her Lilia’s name. It was a stark reminder of the reason they were here in this weird hotel room with its big, romantic bed, and Casey sighed. “Lilia Wilson,” she told him. “Nick’s assistant.”
“What does she say?” he asked, the mood completely gone.
“Damn,” she breathed as she skimmed the message. “She has a location, and it’s every bit as bad as I thought.”
Chapter Eight
“WHAT DOES SHE say?” Damian repeated. He wanted details.
“One of Sotiris’s properties just went live, and it’s close to Chicago O’Hare.”
“Cassandra,” he said patiently. “Explain.” None of what she’d just said meant anything to him.
She glanced up, and he saw understanding register in her eyes. “You’ve never flown,” she said softly.
He shrugged, embarrassed for some reason, even though it was hardly his fault. “When Kalman brought me to this country, it was by ship.”
She walked over and put her arms around his waist, lifting her face for a kiss. “That must have been awful.”
“It was better than the cave,” he murmured, stroking her soft cheek with his knuckles. “And the rooftop, being out in the world . . . it gave me hope.”
“Damian,” she whispered, pain in every syllable as she hugged him tightly. “We’re going to hunt down that fucker Sotiris and make him pay.”
“We’ll hunt him down, but the last part we leave to Nico,” he said seriously. “Promise me, Cassandra. Sotiris’s powers are beyond either one of us.”
“I know that,” she said, patting his chest. “I’ll settle for stealing the Talisman back. Which takes us back to Lilia’s message and Sotiris’s network of safe houses.” Turning away, she flipped open her laptop and pulled up a map, not unlike the one in her SUV. Except this map was of the entire North American continent and had several bright, blue dots scattered throughout. “Nick’s not the only one who has a network of safe houses,” she said, working the keyboard. “We’ve been tracking Sotiris’s property acquisitions for years, identifying purchases made by any of the shell corporations that we know are associated with him. A shell corporation—”
“I know that part,” he interrupted. “Kalman was a financial firm, after all. I heard lots of private negotiations on the rooftop, and not all of them were legal.”
“Really?” she said, arching a brow. “We should compare notes when this is all over with.”
“Sounds boring. The notes part,” he assured her, tugging her hair. “Not the company.”
“I knew what you meant. Anyway, we’ve been tracking Sotiris’s properties, and every time we locate one that looks promising, we install some discreet little spies on the local utilities. Electric and phone especially, because they’re easiest to track and everyone uses them. Cell phones are everywhere, but a lot of security systems utilize landlines, and Sotiris is old enough that he still distrusts cell phone communications. It’s true they can be intercepted, but he’d be better off buying a box of burner phones.”
“If you say so,” he said absently, making mental notes to himself. He hated not understanding what was going on, but hated even more the necessity of constantly asking questions. So he simply stored questions away and looked them all up later on his laptop. The only reason he’d asked for an explanation earlier was because it was crucial to continuing their investigation.
“Anyway, the point is that we have a lot of Sotiris’s safe houses identified. We can’t monitor all of them all the time, but in a case like this,” she tapped her keyboard and zoomed in on a regional map which he recognized as the general area they were currently traveling through, “Lilia can activate our spybots and see if any of the houses are drawing power. And this one is.” She zoo
med even closer, then pointed to the image of a small airplane. “And that is O’Hare International Airport, one of the largest and busiest airports in the world.”
“You think Sotiris is targeting this airport? Why? What exactly was the Talisman created to do?”
“According to Nick, not much, at least, not when it was created. But now . . . maybe it was just dumb luck, or maybe its creator had tremendous foresight—not that it did him much good, since he’s well and truly dead. That’s also according to Nick. But anyway, what was once a pretty but useless bauble is now one of the most destructive artifacts in the world. Everything in today’s world is run with electronics, and I mean everything. From a child’s toy to the most powerful weapons in the world, and everything in between, including airplanes. It’s not a matter of software encryption; it doesn’t involve hacking into anyone’s computer system. It’s simple physics. There’s a thing called an electromagnetic pulse, or EMP. Send out a big enough one and it knocks out every electronic signal within range. There are weapons that are designed to do just that. And the Talisman, in turns out, has the potential to be the most powerful weapon of all. Sotiris could kill thousands of people in just minutes, if he’s figured out how to use it. And we have to assume he has, because, otherwise, why would he bother to steal it? There are air traffic control systems that guide planes through the air and keep them from crashing into each other. They could all be knocked out by this device, leaving planes stranded in midflight. But it wouldn’t even matter, because the planes themselves would fall from the sky when their on-board systems suffered a massive failure.”
Damian had been listening closely, following her explanation. “Sotiris is certainly cruel enough to kill thousands simply because he can,” he agreed. “But it’s far more likely that he will want to gain from it somehow.”
She nodded. “We think it might be intended as a demonstration of the Talisman’s power. He either plans to blackmail governments, or sell the weapon to the highest bidder. If we fail to stop this demonstration, the government could well step in and purchase the device outright, even knowing they were succumbing to blackmail. Fortunately, there aren’t that many parties—whether government or private—who could afford the price tag Sotiris would set on it, so we’d be all but sure of getting it. Unfortunately, this second line of defense won’t work until Sotiris offers the device to the highest bidder, with thousands of deaths serving to motivate buyers.”
“Better to stop him now,” Damian said absently, studying her map. “You’re convinced this O’Hare Airport is his target.”
“Yes.” She glanced up at him. “But you’re not,” she said curiously. “Why is that?”
“You’re assuming Sotiris doesn’t know that you can track his movements by virtue of these safe houses? Why?”
“We’ve identified locations in the past this way, even derailed some of his plans because of it, and he’s never caught on.”
Damian shrugged slightly. “How significant were these plans? Maybe they were sacrificial goats, gifts to the gods, so to speak.”
“Are we the gods in that analogy?” she asked, amused. “You’re the only god around here, big guy. And we’ve had no evidence that any of his operatives know we could track them.”
“Maybe the low-level operatives were unaware of your scrutiny. But that doesn’t mean Sotiris is equally unaware. He would be just as willing to sacrifice his own agents as someone else’s.”
“So you don’t think we should check out the house Lilia found then?”
“I didn’t say that. With so much at stake, we have to assume the worst. But your friend Lilia should keep looking.”
She turned and studied him thoughtfully, hands on her hips. “You might be right. I’ll tell her. But that house,” she pointed at the laptop, where the indicated house was now marked by a blinking cursor, “needs to be checked. Are you going with me?”
He glanced at her impatiently. “There’s no need to be pissy about it, Cassandra. Of course, I’ll go with you. I didn’t dismiss your house-tracking scheme, I only suggested an alternative way of looking at it.”
“I’m not pissy,” she insisted, sounding extremely pissy.
He raised a silent eyebrow.
She regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Fine. But I hope you’re wrong, because if not, then the whole world might be up shit creek.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever that means.”
CASSANDRA STARED straight ahead as she drove through the dark night, grateful that the weather, at least, was on her side. The unusual cold had moved on and so had the rain, leaving the road in front of her only slightly wet, and, at this late hour, only lightly travelled. According to the nav system, the house in question was still a hundred miles southeast. Figuring a predawn excursion would be ideal, they’d set out in the middle of the night, hoping to avoid even the slight chance that someone who knew them would see them leave the hotel. She was driving well over the speed limit, which meant she was also checking her mirrors constantly, keeping a close eye out for any state or local police who might object to her lead foot, or, for that matter, anyone who might try to follow them. It didn’t exactly make for a peaceful driving experience. At least, not for her. Damian, on the other hand, was as relaxed as a person could get. He was sound asleep, probably digesting the three fast-food burgers he’d wolfed down in lieu of a room service breakfast. Not that he’d complained. In fact, she was pretty sure he was becoming a fan of drive-through.
She cast him a sour glance, even while admitting—to herself anyway—that the problem with her mood was more hers than his. The idea that Damian had planted, that Sotiris could have been tricking them with the safe houses all this time, and that they’d been so arrogant as to fall for it, really pissed her off. It made sense that it would take someone like Damian—someone not invested in the system, not familiar with their methods—to see the flaw in their program. But if it turned out he was right, they’d have to reevaluate so many of their assumptions about the enemy, and even worse . . . Damian would probably never let her forget it.
She sniffed irritably and turned back to the road. They’d know before the day was over, and she was confident he’d be proved wrong. There was no shame in it for him. No matter how quickly he’d caught up, he was still new to modern technology. So much of it must seem unlikely to him. No wonder he doubted the accuracy of their conclusions.
Damian finally stirred when she left the interstate, her slowing speed and the sway of the vehicle on the curving off-ramp enough of a change to wake him. He straightened in his seat and looked around. “Are we nearly there?”
“Ten minutes.”
“You must be tired. You should have woken me. I could have driven partway.”
“You don’t have a driver’s license,” she droned, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“It’s not that difficult,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “I’ve been watching others do it on your television.”
“Watching isn’t driving.”
“It is when you’re me.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Oh, yes, I did.”
The sound of Damian channeling a teenaged girl from the ’hood made her laugh out loud. And when he grinned, she knew he’d done it intentionally. “Where’d you hear that?” she asked him. “That doesn’t sound like any rooftop negotiation.”
“No, that’s your daytime television. You left me in the room alone for hours, remember?”
“Geez, you make it sound like I abandoned you, like a puppy. Or worse, chained you to the bed.”
“Would you like to?”
“Like to what?”
“Chain me to the bed.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. He couldn’t be into that, could he? He was the very definition of an alpha male. He’d be more likely to be the one
chaining someone down, not vice versa. “Are you, um, into that?” she asked.
He laughed. “You should hear yourself. No, Cassandra, I’m not into that. I didn’t say I’d let you chain me down. I just wanted to know if you’d enjoy it for a brief time before I broke the chains, and made you pay for trying. I’d definitely enjoy that.”
“I bet you would. Okay,” she said, studying the street signs. “This is it.” She pulled over a full block away from the house and turned off the engine. “It’s the one on the left with the dark sedan in the driveway. No exterior lights, but it looks like there may be one lamp shining through the door glass.”
Damian leaned forward, his sharp gaze scanning not just the target house, but the street all around them. “It’s a quiet neighborhood, no cars or people on the streets at this hour. How do you want to handle it?”
She did her own survey, seeing things he probably didn’t because she knew what to look for. This was a working-class, family neighborhood. The cars on the street and in the driveways were mini-vans and mid-sized sedans, with the occasional pickup truck. Front lawns were postage stamp sized, with slightly larger spaces in the back, all of them unfenced, probably at the insistence of the Homeowners Association. There were basketball hoops above garage doors and backyard swing sets on more houses than not, and while a few had porch lights burning, far more were dark, conserving energy and saving on the electric bill.
In short, it was the perfect place to locate a safe house. There were enough “For Sale” signs that no one would notice a new face on the street, and Sotiris’s agents would be far too discreet to call attention to themselves.
“We’ll go in together. It looks quiet enough. I don’t expect any real resistance. If there’s a lookout, we’ll take him out. The rest we’ll rouse from their sleep.”
“How many do you anticipate?”
“I don’t know. There was a small army at the house when I stole the Talisman in the first place. But I don’t think they could hide that much movement in a neighborhood like this. I think it’ll be fewer than five.”
The Stone Warriors: Damian Page 25