by Anna Hackett
“So the creator god was also known to cause death.” Just like the diamond that bore his name.
“He was also the creator of the brahmastra,” Darcy continued.
“Which was?” Alastair prompted.
“In Hinduism, astra were formidable weapons infused with supernatural power. THS ran across an astra in Antarctica recently, one that Silk Road was desperate to get their hands on. The vajra.”
Alastair straightened and muttered a curse. His gaze fell on the black diamond. He’d read a report on Dec and Ronin Cooper’s adventures in Antarctica.
Darcy nodded. “Team 52 confiscated it.”
“And the brahmastra?” Alastair asked.
“There are lots of stories and legends. Some describe rods, spear tips, and glittering arrows. Others say it was a fiery weapon of destruction. Some stories just say it caused death to whoever was its target, or that it could destroy an entire army. Some legends describe powerful variants like the brahmashirsha astra and brahmanda astra. Weapons capable of destroying the world.”
“Dammit.”
She nodded. “Maybe this diamond is nothing but a unique gem.” She winked. “Or maybe it really is cursed.”
“Let’s just make sure Silk Road doesn’t ever get it,” he said.
She set down the small case and opened it. Alastair frowned. He didn’t see anything inside it.
“Where are—?”
Darcy held up a set of tweezers and reached into the case. When she lifted her hand, he saw a tiny, transparent circle on the end of the tweezers. It looked like a contact lens, but much smaller.
She turned and reverently put her other hand on the Regent, lifting it carefully from the case.
“Hold this for me.” She handed the diamond to him.
Alastair clutched the blue diamond in his hand, holding it still as she attached the tracker. The diamond was cool against his skin. It was hard to believe it had once been touched by kings and queens.
She stepped back. “Done.”
He peered closely. There was no sign of the tracker. “Incredible.”
“I knew Animal could do it.”
“I might need to recruit him.”
She snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Carefully, Alastair set the diamond back in the case.
“One down, two to go,” she said.
Working together, they got the other two trackers attached.
Darcy stroked a finger over the Black Orlov. “So you really don’t think it’s cursed?”
“I don’t believe in curses.”
She grinned. “Of course, the sensible Agent Burke wouldn’t believe in a curse. Do you think it has…abilities?”
“Probably not. But I’d prefer you quit touching it, so we don’t test out that theory.”
With a nod, Darcy pulled up her tablet. “Now for the moment of truth. Time to see if the trackers actually work.”
Darcy tapped on her tablet, trying to ignore Alastair’s yummy cologne.
He was still holding the Orlov necklace draped over his palm. There was something strangely sinister about the gem, but it was definitely beautiful, as well.
She wondered if it had really driven several people to take their own lives and leap to their deaths.
“Okay, here we go,” she said.
Her program came to life, the screen flickered, and a map showing the Dashwood layout appeared. Three glowing dots sat close together—the Regent, the Sancy, and the Black Orlov.
“Carry the necklace over there.” She pointed across the room.
Alastair walked away. The dot on the screen moved.
She grinned. “It’s working. Try heading out of the vault.”
He stepped outside and she heard him talking with the guards. She followed the dot as it moved across the screen. Alastair reappeared.
“It looks good,” she said.
All of a sudden, Alastair stiffened, then stared at the vault wall. He looked lost in thought.
“Burke?
No response.
Her pulse kicked, a chill shivering through her. “Alastair?”
He blinked.
“Alastair?” She gripped his arm.
He did another slow blink and looked at her. “You’re happy with the tracker?”
“You just stopped and stared at the wall. You okay?”
His brow furrowed. “I did?”
She nodded.
“Just lost in thought, I guess.” He set the Orlov back in the case and lifted the Sancy. He moved around the room, and the tracker worked like a charm. The same for the Regent.
She kept a sharp eye on Alastair, but he seemed fine. She shook her head. She was spooking herself with her own myths.
Alastair smiled at her. “You are brilliant.”
Her belly flip-flopped. Oh, boy, that smile. She pretended to buff her nails on her shirt. “Of course, I am, Agent Burke.” She turned her tablet off. “Now, I have a very important errand to run if I’m going to be prepared for tomorrow.”
His brows drew together. “What? Is there more equipment you need?”
“Yes. I need a dress for the gala.”
He stilled. “You want to go shopping?”
“I always want to go shopping.”
“You’ll take an escort.”
Darcy cocked a hip. “Try that again.”
“This is another of those situations where it’s an order, Darcy.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “No arguments.”
“I was going to say ‘sure.’”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Take Thom. He’s the only agent I know who won’t complain about watching you shop.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Agent Burke.”
His eyes flashed and he leaned closer. “Isn’t it time you just call me Alastair?”
Her pulse tripped, and for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. Or she was going to grab that shirt of his and wrinkle the hell out of him when she kissed him. “Alastair.”
He stepped back. “I’ll have Thom meet you at the front entrance.”
Darcy watched him stalk away, and unrepentantly stared at his fine ass as he did. She blew out a breath. The man was under her skin, and the funny thing was, she wasn’t all that upset about it, anymore.
About twenty minutes later, Darcy found herself pulling away from the Dashwood, with the ever-cheerful Agent Thomas Singh behind the wheel.
“Where to?” he asked
“The best shopping in DC, my friend. I need a dress.”
His smile brightened. “Budget?”
She smiled. “I need a rocking dress. No budget.”
Thom’s smile got bigger. “I know just the place.”
He took her to the Collection at Chevy Chase. The street was lined with high-end boutiques.
They moved in and out of the shops, spending several minutes in each one. Darcy knew just what she wanted, but she hadn’t seen it, yet. She tried on a few things, but nothing was quite right. Thom was an excellent shopping partner and proved he had a good eye.
But she still hadn’t seen it yet.
Then, she stepped into one more store, smiling at the well-dressed woman behind the counter. Her gaze fell on a dress displayed on a mannequin toward the back of the boutique.
Darcy sucked in a breath. That was it. “I’d like to try that one, please.”
The saleswoman smiled. “It’ll be perfect with your coloring.”
Inside the dressing room, she zipped herself in, settling the neckline in place. Oh, man. She stepped out of the small cubicle.
Thom was on his phone, but when his head lifted and he spotted her, his jaw dropped open. “Holy shit.” He ended his call.
“I think you just hung up on someone.” Darcy spun, the mermaid bottom swishing around her legs. “You like?”
He blinked. “You’ll bring him to his knees.”
Darcy ran her hands down the sleek satin. “My dress selection has nothing to do with Special Agent Alastair Bu
rke.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Thom winked. “You look like a million bucks, Darcy.”
She looked at the price tag and winced, but then she looked at herself in the mirror again. She decided it was so worth it. So what if she had to eat toast for a few months when she got back to Denver.
Then she remembered that the gala wasn’t just a party where she got to wear a fabulous dress. Damn, for a second, she’d forgotten about Silk Road.
“Darcy?”
She looked at Thom. “What if things go wrong tomorrow?” She thought of Alastair or her brothers getting hurt. “What if—?”
“Hey.” Thom touched her arm. “We’re ready. We’re prepared. We’re going to get them. With you and THS onboard, we’ve got a hell of a team. And Alastair and I will make sure you don’t get hurt.”
Her heart clenched. She didn’t want smiling Thom hurt, either. And she really, really didn’t want the bossy, intelligent man who had burrowed impossibly deep under her skin getting hurt, either.
Chapter Eight
Alastair strode through the Dashwood’s transformed lobby. Lights were on everywhere, setting the space gleaming. Guests milled around, wearing tuxedos, silk, satin, and lace. They chatted and sipped drinks from the loaded trays the servers carried through the crowd. A string quartet was playing in one corner.
Glancing toward the diamond display, flanked by large red banners, he saw that the main case was still covered with a black cloth for the unveiling. He spotted the museum’s bigwigs, hobnobbing with several politicians and local celebrities.
But Alastair wasn’t really concerned with who was here and what they were wearing. He scanned the space again, checking the security at the front entrance. Everyone was being wanded to ensure no weapons made it inside. He spotted Thom moving through the crowd, and nodded. He saw several other agents, as well.
He touched his earpiece. “Cameras?”
“All good,” came the response from the security room.
Dec appeared out of the crowd. The rugged man cleaned up well, looking pretty at ease in his tuxedo. An attractive brunette in bronze silk was at his side—his archeologist wife, Dr. Layne Ward.
“Burke.” Dec nodded.
“Evening.” Alastair nodded at Layne. “Dr. Ward.”
She smiled. “Layne. Please.”
Dec’s gaze moved over Alastair’s tux. “You don’t look like an FBI agent tonight.”
“Thank my partner. He has an unhealthy obsession with clothing.” Alastair’s tux didn’t look that different from any other in the room, except for the fact that it fit him perfectly and was clearly custom tailored. How the hell Thom had pulled that off without a fitting, he had no idea. Alastair turned, scanning the room again. “Have you seen Darcy?”
“She’s on her way,” Dec said.
A smile tipped Layne’s lips. “Us girls spent some time getting ready together. It’ll be worth the wait.”
Alastair wasn’t sure what to make of that smile, and looked back at Dec. “Your team is in place?”
The man nodded and discreetly pointed across the room.
Alastair spotted Darcy’s other brother, Callum. He and Dec weren’t quite identical, but it was clear that they were brothers. He was with his wife, Dani, a world-famous photographer. Apparently, the pair had recently been married by a monk in Tibet on one of their round-the-world trips. No surprise, she held a small camera and was taking photos, the lights glinting off her short, beaded, green dress. Her husband was watching her indulgently.
Then Alastair saw Logan O’Connor. He was a hard man to miss. Big, with his tawny hair brushing his shoulders, the man was scowling and tugging at his bowtie. Then Logan’s gaze snagged on something and his face changed. Alastair blinked. The man’s features filled with warmth and the guy was almost…smiling.
The crowd parted, and an elegant, slender blonde in a column of white silk and holding two glasses of champagne glided toward O’Connor. When she reached the man, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. God, they looked like beauty and the beast.
“Morgan and Zach are on the mezzanine,” Declan said.
Alastair looked up. Morgan Kincaid was leaning against the railing. She was a tall, athletic brunette, and her short, aquamarine dress showed off her mile-long legs. A man leaned beside her, looking debonair in his tuxedo—archeologist Zachariah James. They were smiling at each other, as though they were sharing a private joke.
Alastair’s gaze moved down the stairs from the mezzanine, and he spotted a small, fit woman with copper-colored hair. Her long black dress swished around her legs, and she tilted her head back to smile at the man by her side. Peri Butler—experienced polar guide. The dark-haired man with her was former SEAL and CIA agent, Ronin Cooper. Alastair was well aware that Cooper was not a man you messed with.
“Hello, Alastair.”
The female voice behind him made him spin. As soon as his gaze fell on the blonde-haired woman in the pale-blue dress, delight hit him. There were days he still missed working with Special Agent Elin Alexander. He moved and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.
Then he pulled back and looked at the handsome man standing beside her, with dark skin and a wide smile.
“I’m still unhappy with you, Hale,” Alastair said. “You stole my best agent.”
Hale Carter pulled Elin to his side. “She still works for the FBI, Burke.” The big man smiled down at her, love on his face. “She just likes the Denver weather better.”
Elin laughed, and Alastair’s chest warmed. It was good to see her happy. For a long time, like Alastair, she’d lived only for her job and for revenge against Silk Road. Carter was a good man, and Alastair was pleased for her.
“Everything’s in place?” Elin kept her voice low.
Alastair nodded. “We’ll unveil the diamonds shortly, and then wait for the Collector to make his move.” He looked at Dec again. “You said your parents were coming.” He hadn’t seen the Wards among the crowd.
“Right here, Agent Burke,” an amused female voice said from behind him. “Were you afraid I was planning to steal something?”
He spun. Professor Oliver Ward, distinguished history professor, stood beside a small, compact woman dressed in midnight-blue. The professor had a handsome face and well-cut graying hair. The woman eyed Alastair boldly with gray eyes. Persephone Ward, renowned—or infamous—treasure hunter. Darcy’s parents.
“Dr. and Mrs. Ward.” He inclined his head. “Of course, I didn’t think you’d steal anything.” Perhaps the thought had crossed his mind.
Persephone Ward’s smile said she knew exactly what he was thinking. “So you’re the agent who’s been driving my daughter crazy.”
“Guilty.” Alastair met the woman’s stare. “To be fair, she does the same to me.”
Oliver smiled and Persephone barked out a laugh.
Alastair looked around again. “Speaking of which, where is Darcy?”
Elin cleared her throat. “Here she comes.”
Alastair turned and felt like the tiles under his feet tilted. His heart knocked hard against his ribs.
The crowd parted as she walked toward them. Fucking hell. He tried to breathe, but it was near impossible, his chest was locked too tight.
She wore silky, shiny red. The dress clung everywhere, but flared out at her feet. The neckline sat off her slim shoulders, showing way too much skin, and showcasing her gorgeous breasts.
“Breathe,” Elin murmured, amusement in her voice.
He finally managed to drag in some air. Darcy’s gaze locked with Alastair’s and she shot him a sultry smile.
“Hi, guys.”
“Darcy, you look amazing.” Layne hugged her sister-in-law.
Alastair just stood there dumbly, watching as she greeted her family and friends. Pressure built inside him.
“You look gorgeous, my darling,” Persephone drawled.
When blue-gray eyes met his again, he circled her arm. “We need to check on some sec
urity issues.” He pulled her away from the group and around one of the columns.
Her brows drew together. “Hey—”
He spun her and backed her into the column.
She arched a brow. “I thought you wanted to check on security?”
She’d done something smoky to her eyes, and her lips were a brilliant red that matched her dress.
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he growled.
Her face changed, looking very satisfied. “You think this little ol’ dress is for you, Agent Burke?”
He pressed an arm against the marble above her head and leaned closer. She was wearing a different perfume tonight, something straight-up sexy, that filled his senses.
“Yes, I think it is.”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. “Then you’re right.”
“You are so beautiful, Darcy.” His breath mingled with hers, the air between them scorching hot. “I don’t want anyone else to look at you.”
“Caveman.”
“That’s how I feel, knowing every man in this room will be looking at you and imagining peeling that dress off your sexy body.”
Her chest hitched. “Well, they can look, but they can’t touch.”
He lowered his voice, his blood pumping thickly through his veins. “Can I touch?”
Her eyelids flickered. “I’ll think about it.” She ran her nails up his shirt, fiddling with the buttons up to his bow tie. “You do look hot in a tuxedo. Thom picked it for you, didn’t he?”
Alastair groaned. “We have a job to do. I need to stay focused.” He made himself step back from the temptation of her.
Darcy took a few steps away with a whisper of silk. Then she paused and turned, shooting him a look over her bare shoulder. “Let’s catch us some bad guys, Alastair, and then later, if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll do the touching.”
Darcy dragged in a deep breath and tried to focus. It was hard with wet panties.
She watched Alastair stalk off to check in with his agents. She hadn’t been lying—the way the man looked in a tuxedo should be illegal. It fit his hard body like a glove. Her mouth watered and her ovaries sighed.
“You know, watching you look at him, and him look at you…I have to tell you, it makes me very hot and bothered.”