His arms tightened around her, his hips bucking into her, pumping into the tight recesses of her body. Sensations poured over him, into him, around him.
Jessica had somehow reclaimed both the man and his pleasure. Release came over him in an explosion of power, shaking him from head to toe, stealing his breath, his thoughts. Taking him to oblivion and back.
And when they finally stilled, their bodies melted together, Des didn’t ever want to let her go. The problem was, neither did the Beast.
One of the many reasons, no matter how much he didn’t want to, Des had to walk away from Jessica. He had to say goodbye.
She sighed as he pressed their bodies side by side so that her back was to his chest. He pressed his legs to hers, enclosing her curves with his frame. And he wished things could be different, that this didn’t have to be goodbye. But he didn’t dare make love to her again. What if he couldn’t control the Beast next time? Thinking about how close he’d come to biting her scared the hell out of him.
This couldn’t be happening. Jessica couldn’t be his mate. If she was, she would find out that he’d lied to her. Not a good way to start out forever. And she had a family, a life. The kind of security one didn’t want to walk away from to fight demons, nor would he ask her to. The other option was no better. By trying to suppress his darker side, had he found out he didn’t know how to anymore?
Either way, this was unfair to Jessica. He had to get through the tour the next day and then distance himself. No matter how painful that might be.
His gaze lowered to where his hand rested against the ivory perfection of her leg. Light where he was dark, in every way possible.
He had no choice but to walk away.
Excitement coursed through Greg’s veins as he opened the lockbox, ready to retrieve the diaries. His hand even shook a bit as he shoved the key into the lock. The door opened and his eyes went wide.
Empty. The freaking locker was empty!
Greg’s mind roared with rage. He’d paid, and paid well, for those diaries. Damn it! He should have just used his men. Fear about the Beasts had kept him from doing so. Fear about the unknown. If the Beasts took control of his men, they could take the diaries. But this plan hadn’t gotten him anywhere.
He slammed the locker shut, not bothering to remove the key. His cell phone rang, and he checked caller ID. Unknown. He knew damn well who it was. Any fear he’d had of Black Dog disappeared. He was damn tired of being a whipping dog for the rest of the world. He’d been kicked one too many times.
Greg hit the answer button. “Where are my diaries?” he demanded.
He listened a moment, heard the bad news. It was all he could do to remain calm as he agreed to meet the Hell Hounds back at that bridge again. Oh, he’d meet them all right, but this time he wasn’t going to let them cow him. This time he would get the results he’d paid for. One way or the other.
Greg punched the button on his phone. His fingers turned white where he still gripped the receiver. Without those diaries, he had no ammunition. He couldn’t hand over that journal. Not without being killed. Damn it! He pounded the palm of his hand on his forehead. Think! He drew a breath. Thought a moment. Exhaled.
A plan began to take root. Segundo said he wanted the journal, but Greg knew better. It was what the journal would lead him to, what it held inside, that Segundo wanted. So Greg had to make sure he got to that list of bloodlines first. He laughed. Yes. He could still pull this off.
Considering his options, he decided he couldn’t afford to trust the men working the catering event. They could already be influenced by Segundo. And he needed a team capable of chasing the trail that map would lead him on. He needed the Hell Hounds.
They owed him big for tonight, but despite that, he doubted they would feel inclined toward generosity. They’d want more money. Lots of it, too, he’d be willing to bet. Immediate cash was what he needed. And he was willing to take risks to get it. He had access to certain museum funds. By the time anyone missed them—well, he’d be long gone, and filthy rich with money and power.
When this was over, everyone who had ever doubted him, who had ever thought he wasn’t good enough, would be begging forgiveness. He’d make sure of it.
An evil smile twisted on his lips and he started walking. Walking toward his new and improved future.
Chapter 10
Jessica woke to the sound of her alarm clock playing top-forty music, wishing it would go away, not sure she even remembered going to sleep. She rolled onto her back, blinking in the sunlight, her hand going to the empty space beside her. Disappointment shot through her at Des’s absence, memories flooding her thoughts. Images of her and Des, intimately entwined, making love, replayed in her mind. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, feeling more at peace than she remembered ever feeling.
She sat up, searching the room for signs Des was still there, upset as she noted his clothes were missing. That he’d bolted surprised her. Their connection had felt so real, so alive, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. But then, she’d put the man through hell, and her father had been pretty damn rude.
Shoving away the covers, she walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, thinking of how her father had talked to Des. Unlike most men she’d known, Des wasn’t one to sing her father’s praises. She stepped under the flow of the water and realized her father had been right on one account. Des had a lot of her mother in him. She sensed it. The wildness, the need to explore.
A lump formed in her throat as Jessica realized that for the first time in her life, a man had sparked the beginning of something special in her. A man she could feel something for, a man who would be gone in a few days, before they ever had time to get to know each other fully. This should be a fling, nothing more. How likely would a long-distance relationship be to succeed? So why did she feel forgetting him would be hard?
Part of her wished she’d never gone down this path because it was headed for heartache. Another part couldn’t imagine missing having Des in her life, if only for the briefest of times.
Jessica dressed in a simple black suit-dress and heels, and spent a bit of extra time on her makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes. Then she headed to the kitchen, assuming she needed to call a cab.
She entered the tiny dinette area just outside her kitchen to find Des sitting at the table, dipping graham crackers into a peanut-butter jar.
Her heart swelled with happiness beyond what his simple presence should offer. She knew that, but it didn’t change anything.
The dark shadow of stubble on his jaw only served to enhance the rugged warrior image the night before had given him. Seeing the steely hardness with which he’d faced those criminals at her father’s house, she’d known there was more to Des than met the eye.
He grabbed a spoon from the table and filled it with peanut butter. “Hope you don’t mind. I was starving and I love this stuff.”
She smiled and sat down across from him. “I do, too,” she said. “I can’t say I’ve tried it with graham crackers before, though.”
He smeared peanut butter on a cracker and handed it to her. “It’s damn near a delicacy. Try it.”
Jessica bit into the cracker and approved, taking a moment to swallow. “Good stuff.”
Des handed her his glass of milk and she accepted, thinking how intimate the act. “I thought you’d left.” She set the glass down. “You were gone when I woke up.”
He shoved the peanut butter aside and leaned forward, fingers laced on the table in front of him. Warmth radiated from his eyes and his voice lowered. “Only because I knew I wouldn’t let you out of that bed if I stayed in it with you.”
Jessica suddenly felt the warmth in his eyes spread through her body. The only thing that kept that warmth from turning to downright molten fire was the ringing of the phone.
With effort, she tore her gaze from his and went to grab the cordless phone off the wall. She returned to her seat and answered, to find her father on the other end of t
he line.
Five minutes later, she hung up the call. “My father,” she announced.
“I gathered as much,” Des commented, his attention going to cleaning up the food, all the warmth from before gone. He glanced at her as he screwed the lid on the jar. “Any news?”
“Nothing.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry for how he treated you last night.”
His eyes glinted with a hint of steel. “He thinks you need a different kind of man. As much as I don’t want to hear that, he’s probably right.” With his words, he pushed to his feet and she felt a door close, felt Des shut her out.
Her heart fell to her stomach. She knew Des wasn’t here to stay, but she’d hoped to have more than one night. But that wasn’t going to happen.
He’d made a decision just now. She’d felt it as if it were her own. Felt the finality.
Des had already said goodbye.
A few minutes after Des dropped Jessica off at work, he stood in the living room of the team’s temporary headquarters—a rental house near the museum.
Des wasn’t feeling his normal, smart-ass self. If anyone spoke of his night with Jessica, he might have to jack them up against the wall.
He found Max and Rinehart standing around a setup of folding tables arranged in a square, busy connecting wires to equipment. Judging from the cautious looks they cast his direction, neither planned to cross him today. No doubt he radiated abnormal edginess, because he damn sure felt it.
“Give us an hour and we’ll be fully operational,” Rinehart commented.
“And this won’t be some back-of-a-van operation,” Max commented, looking up from the red and blue wires he continued twisting together. “This is going to be a grade-A, techno sweet shop.”
Rock stomped into the house and let the screen door slam behind him. “The seven trainees Jag sent are headed up the driveway. And holy hell, he sent Marco. That sorry bastard doesn’t listen worth a crap.”
Rinehart let out a bark of laughter. “Sounds familiar.”
Any other day, Des would egg on the banter between Rock and Rinehart. He tended to keep the team light, even in the face of adversity. Not today. He wasn’t feeling it.
Rock grimaced and opened his mouth to bite back at Rinehart. Des cut him off, fixing the young Knight in a direct stare.
“I want those Knights wired and in the field within an hour. I need Rinehart and Max free to prepare for the extraction of that journal.”
Rock’s frustration slid away, his focus on his job back in place. The Knight might be a bit of a livewire, but he knew when to toe the line with Des as well as the others did. “I’m on it,” Rock said, turning to the door to detour his new team before they entered.
Rinehart stood behind a computer, looking up long enough to cast Des an amused look. “That assignment ought to bust Rock’s ball back to size.”
Des claimed a seat on a folding chair directly in front of a monitor now flashing through images of the museum. “That’s the idea.”
The computer screen showed Jessica walking down a hallway, and Des felt his heart triple beat. Greg came toward her, and she stopped to talk to him.
“Where’s the volume?” Des asked, his gaze never leaving Jessica.
“Another ten minutes,” Max said.
“Damn,” Des murmured. He really wanted to hear what was going down, if anything.
Max walked around the table to eye the screen, but Des didn’t pay him any attention. His muscles were taut, tense, his entire body filled with regret. He’d gone cold on Jessica, shut her down like a bad dream, when she was more fantasy than nightmare.
He watched as she swiped hair behind her ear, her movement jerky. Her lips were thin and she crossed her arms protectively in front of herself.
“Look at her,” Max commented. “She’s on edge. She knows what a bastard Greg is.”
Greg and Jessica parted ways, and Des exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed his team. “We’re sure Greg was behind last night?”
“Oh yeah,” Max said.
“And the men who attacked the mansion? Who were they?”
Rinehart answered, “Hired guns.”
“By Greg,” Max added. “I have a taped conversation that’s as damning as it gets.”
Rinehart shoved his hat back on his head, then put his hands on his hips, one leg forward. “We nabbed one of the men and convinced him to talk, but he didn’t know much.” He snorted. “And believe me. We scared the man shitless. He would have talked if he had anything to say.”
Rinehart knew a little too much about making people talk. Des knew he’d spent his human life in the military. Sometimes, he wondered what exactly Rinehart had done for the good ole U.S. of A. But then, they didn’t talk about their own pasts, let alone ask about each other’s.
“The diaries are in a safe in the back room,” Max offered. Des didn’t bother asking where they’d gotten a safe. His men were resourceful. Max continued, “Sonsabitches wanted those books in a bad way.”
Rinehart pulled a short-bladed, six-inch saber from his belt, handling it with the ease most would handle a pocketknife, and used it to cut some wires. “Kind of seems like they know something we don’t.”
Des grimaced. “Information related to that list of bloodlines, no doubt. Jessica’s mother had studied Solomon all her life. It makes sense her personal notes might be of value, maybe a guide to understanding the journal.”
“Whatever might be in the diaries, it’s only speculation,” Max pointed out. “The journal is the true score.”
“Right,” Des agreed, “and we can’t be behind the eight ball this time. We might not be so lucky as to recover the journal. We need to be there before the Beasts.”
Rinehart added, “Greg’s the key to when and how the Beasts plan to get that journal.”
Des thought a moment. “I need to get closer to Greg.” He had an idea. “Max.” He waited until he had the Knight’s attention. “Get in contact with that board member you played footsies with. Tell him his executive director can’t seem to find time for me and it’s causing concern. I’m scheduled to be at the museum for a tour at one o’clock. Tell your contact that if Greg can’t make time for me, maybe our collection isn’t important to the museum.”
Max reached for the cell phone attached to his belt, but not before Des saw a hint of respect in the Knight’s eyes. “Consider it done,” Max said.
Des pushed to his feet, wishing like hell he had time to give those diaries a glance. But he needed to shower and pull himself into some semblance of order.
He’d given up his last excuse to see Jessica before the party. And that night would be the one for goodbye. Because before that charity event was over, he would crush her by claiming her mother’s life’s work. Because he and his team couldn’t leave without that journal.
Avoiding Jessica was for the best. So why did everything inside him scream with regret?
Jessica stepped out of her office and headed toward the elevator, planning to meet Des in the lobby. It was almost one o’clock, and he would be taking the museum tour. Anticipation charged her body. She wanted to see him again; hoped he would be different than he’d been on the ride to work earlier that morning. He’d barely spoken to her after that call from her father. No matter how she tried, Jessica couldn’t shake how unsettled she felt about the way things seemed to be ending between them.
The elevator opened. Michael stood inside, a bag in his hand from the restaurant Des had gone to the night before. The minute Michael saw her, his eyes lit up. “Just the person I wanted to see.”
“Not now,” she said, stepping inside the elevator. “I have to give a tour.”
“I’ll ride with you,” he said, feet planted. “Something is weird about your fiasco last night.”
Sarcasm laced her voice. “Other than me being held at gunpoint, I’m not sure what you mean.”
He waved off her smart mouth. “Besides what we’ve already discussed. I’m talking about Des
Smith. I was just at the restaurant, and no one there remembers him.” He made a face. “And that isn’t a man who’s easily forgotten. Not to mention he was bleeding.”
She frowned. “I don’t have a clue where you are going with this. Des brought food back to us. He was at that restaurant.”
They arrived on the ground floor, and the door opened. Michael followed Jessica into the hall, clearly determined to finish the conversation. “I know, but something is off. The way you described him handling those men at your father’s house. It doesn’t add up. He doesn’t add up.”
She stopped walking a few inches shy of the lobby. “What insanity are you talking, Michael?”
“Like I said. It doesn’t add up, Jessica. I’m thinking he’s with the insurance company. Some kind of security specialist maybe.”
Her eyes went wide. “The insurance company!” She quickly lowered her voice. “What in the world would they gain by sending someone in as a donor?”
“There’s been a theft attempt on the journal. It’s not crazy to think they might be cautious.” He shrugged. “You know, to check out the staff.”
“Des’s attention has been on me. I’m the last person they’d need to worry about since I am the reason the donation even made it to this museum.”
“But he was originally set up to meet with Greg, right?”
Her brows dipped, the suggestion rolling around in her head. “You think he’s here to check out Greg?”
“What about Greg?”
Jessica turned to see the man in question, Greg himself, behind her. She quickly feigned innocence. “I was just looking for you.”
The glint in his eyes said he didn’t believe her. “Well, it just so happens, I was looking for you, too. I’m taking your appointment with Mr. Smith.”
“What? Why?”
“The board said so, that’s why. They want this donation, and after last night, they’re afraid you’re not up to bagging it.”
Jessica didn’t believe that for a minute. The board knew she could handle herself. Greg simply wanted to reel in the fish she’d caught and take credit with the board. “I’d rather finish what I started.”