Sunroper (Goddesses Rising)

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  Marley’s side twinged to make his point. “I won’t be found,” she assured him. “Do these guys do their own laundry?”

  He hesitated. “No.”

  “Do they store the beer and snacks in the laundry room?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” he sighed.

  “Then they won’t be likely to go in there.”

  “Unless they hear you.”

  “I won’t make noise.”

  Gage didn’t argue that one. Marley knew he’d listened to every inch of her crawl through the first time, and she hadn’t made a sound.

  “So I just need a way to be able to see into the living room. Do either of you have a drill?” she asked again, looking between them.

  Gage stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the table. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, then pursed his lips and heaved a sigh. “You won’t need to drill a hole.”

  “Why not?”

  He sighed again, the sound conveying his complete lack of support for the whole plan. But then he said, “There’s a two-way mirror through the laundry room into the living room.”

  Marley stared at him. “No freaking way.”

  “A family owned the apartment before Christopher did. They had small kids, and the mother wanted to be able to see them in the living room when she was doing laundry.” He shrugged. “Chris thought it was hilarious and kept it. He takes girls in there to spy on their friends during dates and parties.”

  “Lovely.” Marley grimaced. “But perfect. Too perfect. I’m starting to think everything’s going too easy at this point.” She checked her watch. It was nearly six. “I’m taking another nap. I want to be ready to go at eight thirty.”

  “Hold on.” Gage held a hand out to block her path. “I still don’t like this.” With an eye on the blueprints, he said, “Lahr’s in this building, somewhere above Chris’s floor. We could try to figure out where.”

  Anson shook his head. “Too many possibilities. The building’s too big, and there are too many variables to apply. That kind of hacking takes time we don’t have.”

  Marley patted Gage’s shoulder. “You should nap, too.” She regretted the suggestion when his eyes locked onto her, the silver in them seeming to churn through the blue. Heated mercury in icy waters.

  “I’ll keep monitoring as long as the battery holds out.” Anson settled back on the couch with the headset and closed his eyes.

  Marley tried to beat Gage to the end of the hall, but he caught her hand as she reached for the doorknob, threading their fingers together and tugging her to face him.

  “I don’t want to talk about what happened earlier,” Marley said immediately. She kept her gaze on his collarbone. The skin there was lightly tanned, smooth. A tiny pulse beat out a normal rhythm in the hollow at the base of his neck.

  “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

  Marley heard the smile in his words but refused to raise her eyes any higher.

  In truth, five years ago—hell, probably even two years ago—she was the kind of woman who’d dwell on the memory of a kiss like that, fret over what it meant and what came next, and beg the guy to talk it out, no matter how clear or unclear he seemed about his feelings.

  But now…

  “There’s no room in my life for any kind of relationship,” she told Gage. “So there’s no point.”

  “Then why did it happen?” He asked it so reasonably, without any obvious agenda besides the need to know, that she had to answer honestly.

  “This.” She stroked her finger over the spot that entranced her a moment ago. The pulse increased its pace, and an answering flutter kicked up in her belly. Action and reaction—or was it reaction and reaction? She should stop touching him, but she couldn’t. “And this.” Her finger traced his cheekbone, then brushed his lips. She tried to be matter-of-fact, neutral. “You’re a very good-looking guy. You had your hands on my hips. We were in a tight spot, body to body.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes drooped to half-mast again, not seductive but seduced. “So you’re saying it was circumstance and you’d have kissed any guy standing there. Like, say, Anson?”

  The mood broke in a wave of regret and shame. It was Marley’s turn to swallow. She dropped her hand and stepped back. “Not Anson. Not anyone else. I haven’t been attracted to anyone like this in a long time.”

  He closed his eyes. “Why would you say that to me if you’re not going to let it go anywhere?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. Her throat tightened. “I don’t want to lie to you, I guess. I just don’t have any room for this anymore.”

  “Now.” He stepped closer again, not purposefully, but as if he didn’t even know he was doing it. “You mean you don’t have room for this now.”

  Marley shook her head and folded her arms across her body. “Ever.”

  “Why?” Gage spread his arms out to his sides. “Everyone needs human contact, Marley. Why are you so determined to isolate yourself?”

  “I’m not.” Okay, maybe her aversion to lying to him had its limits. “I have a job to do—”

  “Which isn’t relevant to this conversation,” he cut in. “People can do their jobs and still have relationships. Why are you pushing me away?”

  “Why won’t you let me?” Marley shot back. “There’s no reason for you to pursue this.”

  Gage stared at her. “You seriously don’t understand why I’m attracted to you?”

  “Some things are obvious,” she scoffed. Her arms tightened to pull her T-shirt snug over her breasts and push them upward into the shirt’s V-neck. Typically, Gage’s gaze dropped. Unfair to blame him for that—any guy’s would. He yanked his eyes back up to her face immediately.

  “Yeah, you’re hot.” His voice had gone deep and low, but passion made the words clear. “I like your body, and I’ve had the privilege of touching you on several occasions. But there’s a lot more to it than that.”

  Marley refused to ask like what? no matter how much she ached to, but he acted like she had.

  “You have such intense control I know there’s passion raging beneath it.” His voice lowered even more, and this time, when he moved toward her, it was with predatory grace. He didn’t touch her, but his blue eyes blazed behind his long, dark lashes.

  Marley stood her ground, tilting her chin to keep his face in view, but blood rushed in her ears and her lungs strained to fill, to breathe him deep.

  “You’re driven.” The words came out gentler, more of a murmur. “Focused. Loyal. It’s evident in every choice you make.”

  Marley barely heard what he said. Her attention was on Gage’s long fingers as he reached to curl them around the back of her neck. She clenched her shirt in her fists to keep them in place, her folded arms the only barrier she had.

  “You protect everyone,” he murmured. “Not just your friends from an assassin and a ruined wedding, but all the goddesses, even the regular people who could become secondhand casualties.”

  Desperate for a change in topic, some kind—any kind—of wall, Marley grabbed the first thing that popped into her head. “Why haven’t you pulled your father and the other Numina leaders into this?”

  Gage shook his head and used the motion to close the gap between their mouths. His breath misted her face, and it took all Marley’s strength not to stretch up and kiss him.

  “Focus, Marley. That’s not the point.”

  “It’s a point.”

  His lips curved. “Because you’re protecting them, too. All the Numina who haven’t been party to the activities of a bad bunch. Even the kids with flux, or who could try to get it. I’ve never met a woman like you, and I want to deconstruct you.” His eyes flashed. Marley’s insides went soft and pliant, and the tension seeped away. “I want to understand you,” he murmured, his mouth coming within a hairbreadth of hers. She savored the suspension of time for a few seconds, anticipating the heat of him, the flavor. Need rose, almost lifting her to her tiptoes.

  “Yo
u even,” he whispered, “protect Anson. Someone who betrayed you, who hurt you in ways you try so hard not to show. It takes a special person to be able to do that.”

  Marley’s eyelids snapped open. He knew?

  He stared at her, so close, the blue in his eyes agonizingly sharp. Just as Anson’s had been when she bestowed power on him the first time. The love and joy in his eyes had seemed to validate her entire existence.

  And it hadn’t been real.

  “Stop it!” She stepped back until she hit the mirror at the end of the hall. “I can’t do this, Gage.” She was infuriated to hear her voice shake, and that only made it worse. “You are very good at saying things I need to hear.” Oh, lovely, Marley, that sounds quite pathetic. Other, equally pathetic words filled her mouth—I’m not special. I’m not worthy—but she refused to let them out, to even listen to them.

  She was appalled to feel tears sting her eyes. She hadn’t allowed that since the day Riley and Quinn had been abducted. No one was allowed to do this to her, dammit. She forced anger to blaze up and burn away everything else.

  “I’m sorry.” Gage reached out to her, but his apology was obviously knee-jerk. He had no idea what hit her so hard. “I have no right to be jealous. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  He’d shocked her again. Her mouth fell open. “Jealous?”

  He winced and tucked his thumbs into his pockets. “I know. It’s stupid. I’m not used to feeling this way.”

  “There is nothing to be jealous of.” Letting him think otherwise would have been easier, but she was pitiful enough as it was. She refused to be seen as that weak. “Anson has plenty to atone for and helping me is a way he can do that. And that, in turn, helps me achieve my goals. Period.”

  “Good.” Satisfaction settled the intensity in his eyes, but the silver streaks still dominated the blue. “So then back—”

  “No, Gage. Not back to us. I appreciate the compliments—they were lovely things to say—but nothing is going to happen between us.” She inhaled deeply and forced herself to settle into her hard-won emotionless center. When she looked up at him this time, she knew what he saw because it was all she’d seen in the mirror for a year. If he was smart, he’d heed the cold, hard mask she presented to him now.

  He didn’t bother trying to hide his emotions. She could easily read his disappointment, his determination, and something like sympathy that should have solidified the walls she’d shoved up but instead threatened to tear them back down.

  Gage settled back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not letting it go.” He made no move to stop her when she turned toward her room.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she told him, and closed the door between them.

  But she was wrong.

  Part of Marley—the old, long-buried part—almost leaned against the door to catch her breath, maybe with her hand pressed against her chest like some romance-novel heroine. But because Gage wasn’t going to let it go, she gathered the strength to pretend there wasn’t an ounce of that woman left in her anymore. She stripped off her jeans and left them in a heap on the floor while she climbed into the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in and called upon another skill she’d developed over the past year—the ability to fall asleep despite the turmoil in her heart.

  …

  Gage let Marley escape because she needed to sleep before the meeting tonight. Before she put herself in the middle of a whole lot of people who probably wanted to harm her, and tried to go undetected into a laundry room. With possibly the most powerful goddess in the world on the other side of that two-way mirror.

  With a curse, he whirled and went into his own room. He should sleep, too, even if he wouldn’t be in the middle of the dragon’s lair. He still needed to be alert and watchful. But dammit, sleep would come hard.

  He paced off the wood floor, across the hand-loomed wool rug, and back onto wood. He barely noticed the change in texture against the calluses on the bottoms of his bare feet. He snatched a maroon pillow off the bed and flung it across the room. It thudded against the wall next to the bathroom and fell harmlessly to the floor.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, blew out a breath, and went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. When he closed his eyes, Marley was there. Her creamy skin, her fiery pale eyes, the light, crisp scent of her. The heat that blazed when she kissed him back, her body so taut and yet so soft and feminine. He’d meant every word he’d said a few minutes ago, and his respect fed the attraction.

  He might never be able to banish her, no matter how hard she tried to make him. He swiped a towel over his face and tossed it on the counter. “Sleep,” he muttered. “Things always look better after sleep.”

  He went back into the bedroom and dropped heavily onto the bed. Seconds after he closed his eyes, his phone buzzed. He ignored it the first time, but it buzzed again, loud in the silent room. He didn’t want to look. If he looked, he’d be compelled to answer, no matter who it was.

  But it could be Aiden.

  “Fuck.” He rolled over, pulled the phone out of his pocket, and tapped the screen awake. Not Aiden. And not, unfortunately, work. This was a call he couldn’t ignore.

  He answered with a thumb stroke and lifted the unit to his ear. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Son.” Disappointment saturated the word.

  Gage swallowed, his heart sinking. “I was going to call you. There hasn’t been time.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, Gage, but you probably could have taken a moment to send me a text. Last I knew you’d possibly made contact with the goddess responsible for your brother’s disappearance. Can you see why I would have preferred contact sooner?”

  He could have been ten years old, his father asking if he understood why he was being punished for breaking a lamp. Or sixteen and home an hour past curfew.

  “Of course I do, Dad. But it hasn’t been that long since we talked.” Less than forty-eight hours, and it felt like a week. “I’m okay,” he pressed on. “I’m in the city.”

  “New York?” His tone rose a little. “She’s here?”

  “Yes, but she’s not her.” Jesus, that sounded confusing. “The woman I saw with the white eyes? She isn’t the goddess we were looking for. But I found them both.”

  “Gage. That’s tremendous, son! What have you learned?”

  Oh boy. He rubbed his face, trying to decide how much to tell his father at this point. Enough to show he was on track and in charge but not enough to cause alarm. His dad would call off the summit negotiations if he thought the risks had increased or if he learned what a threat Cressida Lahr was. That move could alert all the wrong people and start a cascade of events that would lead to their worst-case scenario.

  “I followed her to a meeting,” he started. “She is definitely giving out power in small doses.” He gave a light-on-details description of the events in the barn. “Now she’s in the city. There’s another meeting tonight.”

  “Where? We can organize a raid.”

  “No. I have nothing about Aiden. If we move on Cr—her too soon, we could lose him. He’ll hate us.”

  “That sounds like you know something about his situation. Has he been detained, coerced, or seduced?”

  Gage hesitated, afraid to say what he really thought. Based on Chris, Brad, and Tony’s actions, he believed Aiden had defected of his own free will. But telling his father that would hurt worse than a needle to the heart. “I don’t know yet,” he said. It was disingenuous but not a lie. “Until I know for sure, we don’t know the best way to proceed.”

  Silence told him his father was thinking it over. “What do you recommend?”

  “I have a way to observe the meeting in secret. If Aiden is there, I can confirm if he’s okay and assess his situation. Then I’ll decide how to make contact.”

  “It sounds like a reasonable plan, but you’ll recommend the method of contact and we’ll decide together.”

  “Of course.” He almost added sir to th
e end, something he hadn’t done in a decade. He didn’t resent his father grasping at his authority; it was the mantle he used whenever he was afraid for his sons.

  “How did things go today?” Gage asked, knowing what the goddesses would have brought to the table after Marley’s interception of the assassin.

  His father let out a hard sigh. Gage imagined him rubbing his forehead.

  “We were presented with evidence that Delwhip sent Brandon Williams to disrupt a wedding in which Quinn Caldwell was an attendant. Her most trusted advisors were the bride and groom—and the targets. They stopped short of accusing the senator of conspiring to have the president of the Society murdered, as well. That was considerate.”

  He spoke sardonically, but Gage didn’t laugh. “How much damage did it do?”

  “Not as much as you would think. Delwhip Junior was part of the young group who had abducted Caldwell and Kordek in the spring. I trusted his father to keep him under control, against my better judgment. I knew he was unhappy with the direction we were taking things, but I failed to anticipate the extent of his determination. He has been removed from the situation. Additional sanctions will be addressed, of course, but in the meantime, I’m afraid it has made everyone even more cautious, if not outright nervous.”

  Gage was glad he hadn’t told his father more about Lahr and what Chris and the others were up to. If Delwhip could cause that much trouble from the sidelines… With the sons of Harmon Samargo’s most trusted advisors involved in this, that knowledge by any party could bring the whole thing tumbling down.

  “I’ll be in touch when I can, but don’t worry if it takes a couple of days again. I don’t know what I’ll be getting into. If I’m in a covert situation, I can’t take phone calls.”

  “Understood, son. Thank you. And please—be careful. This is important, but not as important as your well-being.”

  “Understood. Good luck.”

  “I love you, Gage.”

  “Love you, too, Dad.”