“Ingrid,” his tone became impatient. What was wrong with her? One minute she was kissing him and the next she had fled like a startled bird.
Ingrid picked up a heavy ceramic dish and flung it in his direction. Strom caught it easily and replaced it on the counter. The big idiot thought this was a game. He covered the distance between them in an instant. Then she was in his arms, being carried to the couch.
“Put me down.” When she thumped his chest there was no reaction. It was as if he barely felt her blows. Then she was pinned down, with both hands over her head, clasped in one of his. They were both out of breath.
“Ingrid, I will release you. But you must promise to listen to me. Do you promise?”
When Ingrid nodded, Strom released her hands and touched her face tenderly before moving away. Her fear began to evaporate. Okay, so he wasn’t going to hurt her.
“You’re in danger, Ingrid. We know about the thefts at the museum. I’ve been sent here to protect you.”
Ingrid breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re with the police? Oh thank god. I thought for a moment that you were one of—”
“No, I’m not one of Raoul’s men.” Strom reached for her hand. “You’ve got to trust me. I need you to tell me everything. Now why don’t you start at the beginning?”
Ingrid poured two more shots. “I suppose it started with my doctoral thesis Sexual Symbolism in Early Hiberno-Norse Morning Gifts.”
Strom took a sip of his drink. “I’ve read it.”
Ingrid eyed him with amazement. “Really?”
“Well, not all of it,” Strom admitted. He had flipped through the first two chapters in the interests of research before the mission. “But I have a copy back home.” Yeah, it was on loan from the rare book collection at the Gates Library of Cultural History and he had forgotten to return it before he left on the mission. Damn.
Ingrid took a sip and continued. “It didn’t exactly set the academic world on fire, but when professor Clynes retired there was an opening at the museum. That was when I met Raoul. I was due to give a paper at a conference in Oslo after Easter. When I called up some of the exhibits to take some new photographs, I knew immediately that they were fakes. Superb ones, but the originals were gone.”
“I was the last one to work with them and I couldn’t report the theft until I knew what else was missing.”
“So you carried out a little investigation of your own? Don’t you know how dangerous that was, Ingrid?”
“I know that now,” she admitted, staring at the bandage on her foot.
“I’m sorry,” Strom murmured. “Please continue. What happened then?”
“Over the next week, I called up dozens of exhibits at random. There were a lot fakes. So I went to Dr. Martin, the curator.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “He discovered that references to the stolen items were also missing from the new computer catalogue that Raoul and his team had been working on.
“David confronted Raoul earlier this evening. It had to be one of his people, but Raoul just laughed, and then he shot him.” Ingrid’s voice shook. “He just shot him and then he pointed the gun at me and then I ran.”
The muscles in his stomach clenched. They had almost been too late. The geeks at the Department of Temporal Security had cut the intervention too fine. They had arrived just in time, another few minutes and Raoul would have killed her. Someone was going to pay for this.
Chapter Three
“Ingrid, who else knows about the fakes?”
She shook her head. “No one. I have a report of my findings on my laptop. I’ll pass it over to your colleagues when they arrive. Do you think they’ll be much longer?”
Strom hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to tell her. She had already been through a lot tonight, but he couldn’t let her go on thinking that he was a law enforcement official. He was saved by a knock on the door, and he was off the couch in an instant. “Go to your room immediately, and lock the door. Don’t come out until I call you.”
For a moment Ingrid’s chin stuck out mutinously, but then she thought the better of it and hurried down the corridor.
Strom armed his weapon and moved silently toward the door. He could hear voices outside. It was Jake and Pete. He breathed a sigh of relief and let them in. Pete had a bruise over one eye. “Two of the Cyraelians are dead. We had to vaporize the bodies, but Raoul escaped. Sorry, Boss.”
“We kicked in a few doors upstairs while the law enforcement officials were in the basement, so they wouldn’t connect it with Ingrid. I thought she might miss these.” Jake reached into his backpack and produced a pair of high heels and a leather handbag.
“My shoes,” Ingrid said delightedly. She reached up and planted a kiss on Jake’s cheek. Jake grinned at Strom, who glared back at him. He commed Jake silently, Don’t you even think about it.
“I thought I told you to stay in your room,” he growled.
Ingrid looked behind them into the lobby. “Aren’t the police with you?”
Jake looked blankly at her. “What police?”
Ingrid froze. They weren’t the police. He had lied to her. She flashed Strom a look of hurt and bewilderment. She had kissed him. She had kissed the murderous, treacherous toad. Anger flared inside her. Well, she wasn’t going to die without taking one of them with her. She backed slowly toward the kitchen.
Strom had caught the hurt look. He didn’t want to tell Ingrid like this, but she was heading toward the kitchen again, and she was far too fond of those silly knives. Help yourselves to drinks, guys, he commed. Then he set off in pursuit.
Strom lifted her off her feet and manhandled her toward the bedroom. Ingrid squealed and managed to land several hard kicks on his shins, but he barely blinked.
“You said that you would listen to me, Ingrid.”
She aimed another blow at him. “You told me that you worked for the police.”
“No, I did not. You presumed that I was with the police.”
“But you let me believe it. You murderous, treacherous, lying bastard. Now let go of me.”
Ingrid wriggled like an eel. Strom muttered several expletives under his breath as he struggled to open the bedroom door and subdue her with his other arm.
“Ingrid, you are a most infuriating woman. Stop wriggling!”
Strom opened the door, tossed her on the bed and locked the door behind him. “Now we talk.”
Ingrid glared at him. “Talk, is that what you call it? Are you going to add rape to the rest of your crimes, Strom?”
“It’s only rape if you’re not willing.” That was the wrong thing to say, idiot. Now she looked as if she really would like to kill him. He probably should have let Jake handle this. He was better with women. But the thought of Jake laying a finger on Ingrid made Strom’s fist clench with jealousy.
“You arrogant … Oh I can’t think of a word horrible enough to call you.”
Ingrid looked around the bedroom, seeking a weapon. Her eyes fell on her stockings. Probably not, he was hardly likely to sit still and let her choke him. Maybe she could beat him to death with one of her shoes? Some of them had sharp, vicious bits. Like the purple wedges with the pointy toes. She rolled off the bed and raced for the wardrobe.
Strom leaned nonchalantly against the door. “Getting changed? Why don’t you wear the pale-blue one?”
Ingrid stopped in her tracks. Pale-blue what? He was talking about her negligee. The creep must have searched through her things. Her hand fastened on a wooden handle of a large burlesque fan, Finn’s idea of a joke for her last birthday. Well, it was better than nothing. She made her way back to the bedroom. The viking was no longer lounging against the door. The arrogant bastard was lying in the middle of her bed with his hands behind his head.
He raised one blond brow when he saw the fan. How could he have missed that? His mouth twisted in a grin. Ingrid was full of surprises.
“Don’t you dare grin at me.”
“Stop acting like an idiot then. I
’ve told you that I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk.”
“So talk then.” She glared at him.
“Not when you’re threatening me like that.”
He had to be joking. He had locked her in her bedroom and invaded her bed and he thought the whole thing was funny. “I’m threatening you? I’m threatening …”
She made the mistake of going too close to the bed. Strom’s arm shot out and within seconds she was lying across his chest, staring at the ceiling.
She struggled furiously in his arms, but he was far too strong.
“Please don’t stop that.” The voice in her ear was silky with menace. “It’s really most enjoyable.”
Ingrid lay perfectly still. Already she could feel the evidence of his enjoyment and she wasn’t inclined to add to it. “So talk,” she said icily.
“I’m assigned to the Department of Temporal Security. We’re investigating a group of criminals who are stealing from museums and selling the artifacts on the black market. Raoul and his people are ruthless. They don’t care who they kill or who gets hurt. Last month they blew up a school-transport vehicle with thirty children on board. The ransom had already been paid.”
Ingrid was sickened. But hold on a moment, surely something like that would have been all over the news. He was lying to her. What the hell was he playing at?
“Strom, if that is your name, why hasn’t there been a mention of that on the news?”
“Because it hasn’t happened yet, it won’t happen for another five-hundred years.”
The bedside clock ticked noisily in the room for a full minute. Ingrid didn’t know what to say. A time-traveling viking—well you certainly know how to pick them. It didn’t matter how handsome he was. Strom was obviously nuttier than a fruitcake. Congratulations, Ingrid, you’ve just won first prize in the psycho-boyfriend-of-the-year contest.
That was it. She was definitely getting out of here. His grip seemed to have loosened slightly and Ingrid shifted imperceptibly sideways. Strom’s arms tightened around her again. That was the end of that master plan. Perhaps she better play along with him for a while.
“So you’re from the future?”
“Yes,” his breath tickled her ear.
“And you’re here to fight international terrorism?”
“Interplanetary terrorism,” he corrected.
Oh great, a space cadet. “I see.”
“And the others, are they fighting interplanetary terrorism as well?” She couldn’t resist teasing him. “By the way, the dark one is really cute.”
Strom growled against her neck, sending a delectable shiver down her spine.
“Jake is my first officer.”
Lovely, he’d brought his whole crew with him. “Do you have a spaceship?”
“Not with me, no.”
Strom gritted his teeth with frustration. Ingrid was making fun of him and she didn’t believe a word he had told her. It was time for a demonstration. Perhaps he could show her his implants. Strom released her, and rolling over, he sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed the shirt over the back of a chair and started to open his pants. On second thought, maybe that wasn’t a good idea. He couldn’t seem to control his body’s reaction to her. He stood up, and reaching into his back pocket, he produced a small, flat item the size of a cell phone.
“Do you like the clock, Ingrid? I mean, is it precious to you?”
Ingrid shook her head. “Not particularly.”
Strom set his weapon on the lowest setting and took careful aim. The clock glowed red for a moment and then it vanished.
He handed the weapon to her. It was still warm. “This is the how you turn it on and this is the trigger.”
His hands rested casually on the waistband of his jeans. Dark sherry eyes stared at her. “Kill me.”
Ingrid stared at the space where the clock had been. Strom watched her expression as she tried to process everything that he had told her—the time travel, the interplanetary terrorism, everything. Her fingers touched the trigger indentation. She couldn’t do it. He took the weapon from her trembling hand.
“If I asked you one question, would you promise to tell me the truth?”
Strom nodded.
“Why are you here?”
Up until then, he couldn’t have answered the question, now he was certain. “I came here tonight to save you.”
“But why?” Ingrid looked bewildered.
“That’s two questions.”
“Please tell me.” Ingrid climbed off the bed. Her hair was tousled and her robe was partially open, revealing creamy flesh that he longed to touch. It was too soon for explanations. How do you tell a woman you’d only known for a couple of hours that she is your wife?
“Ingrid, either kill me or kiss me. I can’t take the suspense any longer.”
So she kissed him. Not with the desperate hunger she had shown earlier that evening, but a slow shy caress, slanting her lips against his in a tender embrace. Strom gripped the waistband of his dark jeans, as he tried to retain some self-control. Her hands became more daring, sliding along his shoulders and down his chest before touching the hard muscles of his abdomen with fluttering caresses. He groaned against her lips and surrendered, his hands tangled in her hair, holding her close as he possessed her with his ravenous mouth. The part of him that didn’t want to drag her down onto the bed finally gained the upper hand and he pulled away.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said ruefully, reaching for his shirt.
“Then you shouldn’t have asked me.” But she was smiling and her mouth was pink and bruised from his kisses.
Her mouth was still tingling when they returned to the sitting room and Jake gave her a knowing grin. That guy must be telepathic. In their absence, Jake and Pete had made good inroads into the bottle of liquor and Pete was polishing off the remnants of the salmon. He looked hopefully at her.
“The kitchen is that way,” she said. That was a bad mistake on her part. Within minutes, Pete came back with half the contents of the fridge and proceeded to demolish it with noisy enthusiasm.
Strom poured her another drink and sat beside her on the couch. “Tomorrow is going to be bad. We don’t know if Raoul will have the nerve to turn up at the museum. The police will want to question everyone about the murder and you mustn’t tell them anything about tonight.”
She didn’t like the bit about Raoul turning up again. Strom’s arm curved around her shoulders. “Ingrid, you won’t be alone for a single second. One of us will be with you at all times.”
“What will I tell them about the fakes?”
“Nothing yet. Let us do our job, please, Ingrid.”
“But Raoul will just get away with it,” she protested. “He killed David.”
Strom’s large hand covered hers. “Ingrid, I promise you that Raoul will get away with nothing and that you will be safe. Do you trust me?”
Ingrid looked at the large hand resting on hers. It was strange, but it felt as if it belonged there. She had only known him a few hours, but she did trust him.
“Yes, I trust you.”
Ingrid glanced at her watch. It was almost one a.m. and she had to get up in less than six hours. She’d left Strom and the others talking in the sitting room and went to bed. She couldn’t sleep. This whole thing was crazy. She had never met anyone like Strom. How could someone turn your life upside down in a couple of hours? Get a grip, Sorrenson, he could be gone in a few days. It didn’t seem to matter. If the others weren’t outside with him, she would have gone to Strom and dragged him back to her bed. Now she could do nothing but lie awake, wondering.
A floorboard creaked outside the bedroom door. Ingrid held her breath as the doorknob turned and then stopped. She almost called out his name, but the door stayed resolutely shut. Ingrid tumbled out of bed and opened it. Outside in the hallway, she caught a glimpse of Strom vanishing into the darkness of the sitting room. He had wanted to spend the night with her. Why had he changed his mind?
>
* * * * *
The curtains were pulled noisily open, letting daylight into the bedroom. A furious Finn glared at her. He had been partying again. The dress and the shoes might have looked good on stage, but they were pretty terrifying in daylight.
“I can’t believe it,” he hissed. “I can’t believe that you had an orgy last night and you didn’t invite me.”
“Finn, I…” What was he talking about?
“Have you seen it?” He waved the black ostrich fan accusingly at her.
“Have I seen what, Finn?”
“The sitting room, it’s like a bodybuilding convention.”
“Finn, I did not…”
As if to make a liar out of her, Jake emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips, displaying a toned, muscular torso. He flashed a wicked smile. “Good morning, Ingrid.”
“Hi, Jake.”
She sighed gratefully when Strom arrived, carrying two cups of coffee. His hair was damp and the stubble from the previous evening was gone. He gave Finn a sidelong glance that was tinged with disbelief.
“Mission briefing is at eight a.m.”
“Aye, sir.” Ingrid gave him a cheeky salute.
“Oh please.” Finn threw his hands in the air as he headed for the door. “Would you mind taking this one away and putting the real Ingrid back?”
Strom fixed him with an impatient stare. “Ingrid, you need to speak to your friend.”
She had dressed carefully that morning, a calf-length blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes. She didn’t usually wear makeup, or leave her hair down, but Finn had noticed both and teased her mercilessly when they were out of earshot of the others. Considering that he had missed most of the excitement of the previous evening, Finn had taken the whole back-from-the-future thing pretty well. Given her recent dating record, it was probably the only explanation for three hot guys turning up out of the blue. But he rejected Strom’s suggestion that he move out of the apartment for a few days.
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