He took her hands in his as if he hadn’t heard her. In spite of her declaration that she didn’t need his help, Deidre was grateful for it. The night was suddenly catching up to her. She was shaking and a little weak in the knees. And remembering Shauna, lying on the ground, shot, made Deidre feel as if the world was tilting. Her stomach was iffy and her brain was full of all sorts of crazy information that she couldn’t make sense of.
Finn pushed the sleeves of her shirt back, and dipped her hands into the icy water. Then he grabbed a bar of soap, worked up a lather and smoothed his fingers over hers, slowly, carefully. He rubbed her hands, her fingers, massaged her palms until she felt the tension inside her begin to unravel and a new kind of stress take its place. She didn’t want to feel anything for Finn. But it was as if her body and mind had two very different ideas.
His long, tanned fingers moved over hers. Soap bubbles popped and slid along her skin. She stared down at their joined hands—the hard bronze against the soft white—and felt something stir inside her. Something old. Something . . . familiar. They had done this before. She had marveled at the slide of his skin against hers before. She knew it, felt it, but couldn’t understand how it was possible.
As if his touch, his nearness, had opened a door in her memories, she saw . . . pictures. They had washed each other many, many times. Flashes of images scatter shot through her mind. She and Finn, sitting in a tub together, laughing, unabashedly naked. She saw Finn’s eyes as she moved over him in the water and slowly impaled herself on his hard, thick erection. She watched his eyes glaze over in passion and remembered a matching desire. She could almost feel the water slapping at her breasts. Almost feel the long length of him pushing into her body and how her own muscles clamped down on him, holding him deep.
She was breathing hard, heartbeat thundering in her chest. It was all so real. Too real. She swayed as the images dissolved. All she felt was him. Standing beside her.
Touching her.
Her heartbeat quickened even faster, jumping into an excited rhythm despite everything that had gone on that night. She tried to get a grip on her emotions, but all she really wanted to get a grip on was him. As she had in that blurred, hazy half memory. Finn the lover. Finn the mysterious. Finn the man of fire.
Finn the possibly crazed terrorist.
There was a jolt back to reality.
“Thanks,” she said softly, reluctantly pulling her hands away from his. “I’ve got it now.”
He took a step back as if he sensed her emotional withdrawal. “Fine then. When you’re finished we’ll talk.”
She took her time, in no hurry to be alone with him again. If she was so tired that she was imagining sexy bathtub play with the guy who had nearly gotten her killed, then her judgment really couldn’t be trusted at the moment. Still, even knowing all of that, she missed his stalwart presence when he moved off into the main room.
Laying both hands on the rim of the basin, she leaned forward and took a long, deep breath as she stared blankly down at the soap bubbles riding the surface of the water. Her life had taken such a wild turn she hardly knew what to think. And until she got more information, she wasn’t going to even try to make sense of it all.
Chapter 9
“What do you mean she isn’t there?” Cora Sterling, president of the United States, fixed a hard gaze on her new aide. God, she missed Parker. But her former aide and lover had met with an accident the month before. Stepping into the street, he had been run down by a speeding car and died only a day later.
A damn shame was what it was, Cora thought. Still there was something to be said for young, energetic blood. Even in her fury, she had to admit that her new aide, Darius, had stylishly cut blond hair, cool eyes and plenty of stamina. He also had the sense to keep his distance when delivering bad news.
It was just past dawn, an appalling time of day, in Cora’s opinion. And starting off her morning with news of her daughter’s disappearance wasn’t making things easier. She had been awakened only a half hour ago. But now, she was dressed and sitting behind her desk, claiming her power as she faced whatever came next.
Darius clasped his hands in front of him and stood in the at-ease position. “After the WLF raid on the jailhouse last night, Deidre’s Secret Service protection thought it would be a good idea to check on her. Agent Dante reported that they went to her friend’s door, knocked and there was no answer. They let themselves in to find both women gone.”
Cora frowned at the mention of the latest raid. The guards had been prepared for a possible rescue attempt and still they’d failed. Now the five witches were God knew where, two people were dead and several guards injured. She would have the press to deal with later and now she had to worry about Deidre, apparently missing.
“Just gone?”
“No sign of struggle; it was as if they simply left,” Darius told her. “But the Secret Service had the front and back covered, so they couldn’t have gotten past them unseen.”
“Well, they didn’t simply vanish,” Cora snapped, then caught herself and took a deep, cleansing breath. She reached for her cup of coffee and took a long swallow, hoping the caffeine would jolt as well as soothe her system.
“They might as well have,” he said now and she frowned in response. “There’s no sign of either woman.”
Darius was more than her aide. He was her newest lover and didn’t know yet when to speak and when to keep quiet. He had better learn fast.
“Mind your tone with me, Darius.” Her voice was soft, and carried enough ice in it that the temperature of the room dropped ten degrees. Darius noticed.
“I only meant—” He tried to backpedal.
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “No explanations. No apologies. Do it right the first time. Are we understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She set down her coffee cup and muttered, “We have to find Deidre.” Her nerves were jangling and a touch of panic oozed into her voice. “I don’t care what it takes, Darius. We have to find my daughter. She could be in danger. What if the WLF captured her before their raid to use her as a bargaining chip?”
“The WLF? No one saw her with them. Though, from the witness reports, there was a witch among them.”
“A witch?” Cora’s gaze locked on him. “Why don’t I have a copy of that report?”
“A copy is being made for you now, ma’am.”
“What do we know about this witch?”
He frowned. “She is apparently fairly powerful. Snatched guns away from the guards and held them there while her friends got the prisoners out.”
Cora’s mind spun. A witch on a raiding party. A powerful witch.
“But ma’am, there’s simply no evidence that Deidre was anywhere near the WLF last night and—”
“There’s no evidence at all,” she reminded him. “You just told me that. For all we know, Deidre’s being held captive somewhere, waiting for me to find her.”
“Madam President,” he said softly. “We will find her. We’ve got men combing the grounds for clues. If there’s anything there they’ll find it.”
They had better, Cora thought, hating the sense of helplessness that had her in its grip. She preferred doing to delegating. If she had her way she’d be on the streets herself right now finding Deidre. It was imperative that she be kept protected.
“See that they do. I want people on this around the clock until my daughter is found. Am I clear?” She tapped one finger against her desktop. The Resolute desk, commissioned by Queen Victoria and given as a gift to President Hayes, had been a favorite with Kennedy, Bush, Obama and Tucker. Now it was hers. Sitting behind this massive representation of the power of the presidency, Cora felt its strength imbue her. As the president, she had lines to tug on, and any number of favors to call in.
And s
he would use every tool at her disposal to find her daughter.
“Absolutely clear, ma’am.”
“Get everyone on this,” she said coolly, fighting to regain her composure. “Keep it from the media as long as you can. They’re already frothing at the mouth because they’ve been denied the exclusive execution footage. We don’t need to give them something else to chew on. Besides, if the world knows Deidre is missing, it could send radicals out looking for her. And, we have to consider something else. She may have been kidnapped. If she was, we can’t afford to send those responsible into a panic.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned to go.
“And Darius?” She waited for him to look at her. “I want you taking center stage on this search. You find Deidre.”
He nodded, then straightened his shoulders and met her gaze squarely. “I will. Count on it.”
When he left, Cora stood up from behind the Resolute and walked to the wide windows. The sky was a palette of soft colors, gold and rose and violet. The world was barely awake and already there were crowds gathering outside the high fence surrounding the White House.
There were hastily scrawled placards being waved by the crowd. Some called for Death to Witches. Others proclaimed Freedom for All. She had two sides warring within her own people. And she wasn’t the only leader in the world faced with these problems.
Witches. It all came down to the witches.
Some wanted them dead. Some wanted their powers and some wanted them treated just like any other citizen. The difficulty there was, they weren’t like regular citizens. They had powers. Abilities. And as proven only last night by the WLF raid, witches were no longer afraid to use their power.
A protester threw something toward the White House and one of the armed guards shot it down. She flinched at the too-loud report of the rifle as red liquid exploded into the morning sky. Paint, she thought idly as her guards rushed the crowd to throw the man onto the street. Probably supposed to represent the blood of the innocents.
Just another day on the razor’s edge of a new reality, she thought with a tired sigh. Turning from the window, she sat down to prepare her notes. She’d have to call a press conference to address the witch issue and wanted to make sure that several points were included in the speech already, no doubt, being written.
The witches’ rescue was going to keep the media busy for the next few days, which was a good thing. If Deidre was missing, then they might be able to find her before the newspapers got wind of it.
The execution, if it had gone on without a hitch, wouldn’t have taken more than one cycle on the twenty-four-hour news channels. But escaped witches would keep the newshounds busy for days. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason Cora wasn’t sorry the witches had been rescued. She didn’t need another execution. Not when she was trying to bring a little common sense to the mob mentality ruling the world at the moment. The usually extremely liberal left was mostly quiet these days, except for a few strident voices wanting to protect all citizens’ liberties. They were a small minority, though. Most Americans agreed with the rest of the world. They wanted suspected witches locked up and proven witches executed.
Odd, but for the first time in memory, the national media had left their liberal leanings in the dust. The majority of editorials were downright bloodthirsty, demanding more regularly scheduled executions in the name of “public safety.”
“What they want,” she muttered, “is a witch-death assembly line. Bonfires burning day and night, no waiting.”
And in nearly every damn article the now most well-known line from the Bible was quoted: Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
Funny, not so long ago, those same newspapers hardly mentioned God. Now, they were all using Him as the weapon to kill witches.
People never ceased to amaze her.
Truth to tell though, Cora didn’t give a good damn about the witch situation at the moment. All she could think about was her daughter.
She had to find her.
Chapter 10
Deidre walked back into the main chamber, and paused long enough to admire the torchlight pulsing through the crystals embedded in the walls. But soon enough, her gaze shifted to Finn—and locked there.
Her breath caught. He stood with his head down, his back to her. His shirt was off, displaying what looked like an acre of bronzed muscular skin. He wore a pair of daggers in a leather holster loosely hung from his hips. His legs looked impossibly long and as thick as tree trunks. But the sculpted muscles of his back were what caught and held her attention.
She felt a quick jolt of pure female admiration until she noticed the dark spots on his back. As she watched, something small and metallic fell from his body and clattered on the stone floor. It wasn’t until just that moment that she remembered the battle and how she had heard bullets impacting his body.
“You were shot.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Yeah. Hurts like a bitch, too.”
“Oh my God. Why didn’t you say something?” She hurried closer. “I can take the bullets out, like I did for Shauna.”
Wow. She got used to that really fast, hadn’t she? The strangeness of Deidre’s night just kept compounding.
“No need.” Another bullet popped free of his back and dropped to the floor. “Bastards weren’t using white gold bullets, so I can take care of it myself.”
“White gold.” She repeated the words as she watched, transfixed, as he forced another bullet from his body. It was raining brass, she thought idly, examining his back and noting that the holes in his flesh had already sealed over, as if he’d never been wounded at all.
“They usually use white gold when they’re expecting the magical kind of trouble,” Finn told her, turning around and stretching as if just waking up from a nap.
Distraction alert, Deidre thought, watching the play of muscles across his broad chest and the sculpted beauty of his abs. The man could make a fortune as an underwear model.
“But, since they figured the WLF is all human, they didn’t bother with the more expensive ammo.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Good for me. And Shauna.”
“Right.” She nodded and tried to get her mind back on matters at hand. Wasn’t easy when looking at a half-naked Finn. “White gold debilitates a witch’s power.”
It was common knowledge, after all. Heck, the number-one-selling book on Amazon these days was How to Kill a Witch. Even a child knew that silver enhanced a witch’s power and white gold drained it. People carried white gold antiwitch charms and the bottom had dropped out of the silver market years ago.
“White gold doesn’t completely drain magic away, but it does dampen it. Makes it harder to reach your magic when you need to most.” Finn pushed one hand across his short black hair and shrugged again. “That’s why all those women we pulled out of the jailhouse last night were wearing white gold chains.”
“Last night?” she repeated. She’d lost all sense of time and who wouldn’t, being underground?
“It’s early morning,” he said. “Not dawn yet, but close.”
Hours had passed and it felt like minutes. Yet at the same time, the night had seemed unending. Didn’t make any sense at all, she knew. But then what had since leaving Shauna’s apartment? She had walked into a brand-new world and there was no way out. Dealing with that was going to take some time.
Finn turned to pick up a leather holster of sorts with a long, curved scabbard attached. She took a deep breath and tried to steady nerves that felt like they were jangling all throughout her system. While she watched, he slipped his arms through the leather straps and tied them closed at the center of his chest.
“What’s—”
He glanced at her, and picked up a wicked-looking sword with a curved blade that winked in the light.
“A sword?”
Deidre took that in, shook her head in stunned disbelief and watched as he slid the blade down his back into the scabbard. The handle of the blade rested just below the base of his neck. The Ottoman Empire, she thought wildly. 1357. Just how old was he?
Questions for later, she told herself, setting it aside. There was already too much going on in her brain. She really didn’t need more.
When he turned to look at her again she went back to what they had been talking about. “The MPs and Bureau of Witchcraft will be looking for us now, won’t they?”
“No doubt the hunt’s already begun.”
“The hunt,” she repeated, realizing that now she was one of the hunted. No more standing on the sidelines trying to do her best for witches. Now she was one of them. Deidre took a breath and held it. How was any of this possible? How could she have magic?
“They’ll scour the parking lot, look for clues, then try to track us. They’ll fail.”
She was almost sorry when he tugged the shirt on over his head and covered up that amazing body. He was a hell of a distraction. But it was better this way, she reminded herself, since she needed answers, not sex. Though sex . . . Never mind. “You sound so sure.”
“This is not, as they say, my first barbecue.”
Deidre stared at him, then laughed. “You don’t talk like an immortal whatever.”
“Yeah, well. Some of us hung on to the old ways,” he said, stepping past her to grab two bottles of water off a nearby table. He tossed one to her. “A couple of my brothers avoided humans as much as possible, so they still talk as if it’s the fifteenth century. Most of us don’t.”
“How many of you are there?”
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