Measure of a Man

Measure of a Man Bonnie Dee (c) 2007

Measure of a Man Bonnie Dee Published 2007 ISBN 1-59578-333-4 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2007, Bonnie Dee. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Chrissie Henderson Cover Artist April Martinez This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Chapter One “You got my money, pal?” Ian’s voice was light with only a suggested undercurrent of threat. He knew how to intimidate without breaking from his nice-guy image. “You know, if it was just me I’d cut you some slack, but it’s not up to me.” This wasn’t true, but tapping into a client’s fear of bigger sharks never hurt. He always alluded to someone higher on the food chain who might do much worse than rough a guy up for what he owed. It kept the losers in line. “End of the week, I swear.” Ron Haskell’s face was red and sweating and Ian hadn’t even touched him yet. “I had the money ready for you, but then something came up, you know? I have to contact a few people and get it together again. I’ll pay you by Friday. Please, just give me a couple days extension!” He sighed theatrically. “Ronnie, what am I gonna do? You’re putting me in a situation here.” Throwing an arm around Haskell’s shoulders, he squeezed tight and let his mind go, sending tendrils of thought coiling around the addict’s mind, sniffing out the truth. There was a whiff of something that smelled like money and he latched onto it, gripping the man’s shoulders even harder. “I get the feeling you’re not telling me the whole truth. Is that right, buddy?” “No. I gave you all I got. Honest.” Haskell’s shirt was damp beneath Ian’s arm, his body radiating heat like a furnace. Ian smelled the stink of fear, the quiver of a body in withdrawal and, inside his mind, heard the helpless squeal of a mouse in a trap. Haskell had no money at the moment, but knew where to get some. With a last hug, he let the shaking junkie go. “All right. Friday for sure.” He pointed a finger at him and grinned. “Promise?” “Yes. Yes, I promise.” Haskell looked like he might collapse, blubbering in gratitude. Ian turned to walk out of the men’s room then at the last minute swung around, driving a fist into the man’s scrawny belly. Doubling over with a gasp of expelled air, Haskell went down to his knees. He clutched his gut and choked for his next breath. Ian casually pushed him over on his side with one foot and pulled off one of Haskell’s scuffed leather boots. Reaching inside, he extracted a wad of folded bills and counted out two hundred bucks, only a third of what the guy owed but better than nothing. He tossed the boot back at its owner, hitting him in the chest. “Don’t lie to me, man. That’s no way to do business.” Haskell lay curled in a fetal position, coughing. Ian stepped over the man’s prone body and went to the sink to wash his hands. Looking in the grimy, cracked mirror at his reflection, he ran a hand through his shaggy, brown hair, widened his brown eyes and lifted his eyebrows in feigned disbelief then practiced his disarming smile. Good, he didn’t look like the kind of guy who beat up other guys in men’s restrooms. He turned and walked out of the restroom, leaving Haskell sobbing for breath on the dirty floor. In the smoke-hazed pub, he took a seat near the end of the bar and ordered whiskey,

no ice, from the bartender. Leaning his elbows on the counter, he settled his ass on the stool to watch an inning of a baseball game before his next appointment. Ian was home. He’d spent most of his life in dark, run-down dives like Manny’s. Upscale sports bars with a bank of big screen TVs and flavored martinis made him itchy. As he grabbed a handful of peanuts and tossed them in his mouth, he glimpsed Ron Haskell stumbling past on his way to the front door. The game was on commercial break. Ian frowned in annoyance when Raymond Brody’s face, radiating paternal concern and caring, filled the screen. “Are you tired of feeling alone?” the pseudo-spiritual leader intoned. There was an insert shot of an old woman gazing sadly out a window. “Are you drained by the speed and pressure of today’s world?” Another view of a city sidewalk, crowded with people. “Are you haunted by a pervading sense of worthlessness or self-doubt?” A series of shots flashed on the screen: a well-dressed businessman at his desk, head buried in his hands; a crying young mother holding a baby; an emaciated man hooked up to an IV in a hospital bed; a homeless woman walking down the street away from the camera. Ian sipped his drink and stared at the TV, attention caught in spite of himself. “Do you long for peace, simplicity, tranquility and a renewed sense of purpose in your life?” “What a load of shit,” he muttered. Manny came over, poured him another shot, and looked up at the TV, too. The camera drifted over pastoral countryside, past a sign welcoming visitors and through wide-open gates. It angled over a green lawn with flowers and pathways to a white building nestled among the trees. Brody’s rich, warm voice continued, “The Center for Human Wellbeing located in the heartland of America is a retreat from the world where you can relax and renew your spirit.” “Bullshit,” Ian repeated. “Retreats, DVDs, lessons, speaking engagements, this guy’s making money faster than the Treasury can crank it out. What a scam!” Manny rapped his hand on the bar. “Shh, I wanna hear.” There was a barrage of quick camera shots of forest fires, monsoons, mudslides, floods and tornadoes. Brody’s spoke soothingly over the montage. “Isn’t it time you discovered the true meaning of your time spent in this world?” Once more the smiling face of the motivational speaker/guru/whatever the hell he was supposed to be filled the screen. “It’s not too late. Call the toll free number now for an informational brochure about the Center for Human Wellbeing. It could change your life.” The phone number shone stark and black against a setting sun then the picture dissolved. The next advertisement, a promo for the latest horror movie, flashed on the screen. “Bullshit!” Ian said one last time, tossing his second drink back. “I don’t know.” Manny wiped the bar with a stained towel. “My wife got that DVD, Finding Faith in Yourself and she hasn’t been so happy in a long time. Maybe this guy’s onto something.” “Whatever.” Ian waved away the bottle when Manny moved to pour him another. He needed to keep sharp for his meeting with Quinlan. The movie promo ended and the Giants game resumed. Ian silenced his growling stomach with another handful of peanuts. Gazing at green grass and white uniformed players, he zoned out, reaching a Zen-like level of peace. He liked baseball. It was a pure

world where the goal was simple and the rules clear. The batter hit a triple and everyone in the bar yelled. For a moment they were united in the simple bond of shared excitement as their team scored. It was as close as Ian came to having friends. He half rose off his seat, shouting along with the others. When he sat back down, a pair of arms slid around his waist and the smell of a woman’s too-strong perfume enveloped him. “Hey, babe,” a sultry voice purred. Ian tried to place it. Sherry, Shanise, Cheryl, Shirley? “Sharysse!” He erased his annoyed frown and replaced it with a smile before turning to face her. “Long time. How’ve you been?” “Missing you,” she answered, sidling in close to Ian and gazing into his eyes. Hers were light blue, ringed with smudged, iridescent blue mascara. Her lush body was poured into a matching peacock blue dress. “I thought you’d call.” He cocked his head to the side and lied with a smile. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I lost your number, but I’ve been thinking about you ever since. That night was really special.” He struggled to remember Sharysse in the sack. “Really?” She leaned into his side, her warm body pressing against his, and he began to believe his own lie. “Of course! It was amazing. I’ve never felt like that before.” “Me too.” Her hand rested on his thigh, rubbing up and down its length, stiffening his cock. “But when you didn’t call, I thought … I mean, if you’d only given me your number, I could’ve called you.” Ian never gave his number out to women. “I’m sorry, babe.” He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Sharysse’s warm cheek. Her arms tightened their embrace around his waist. Her soft hair brushed his jaw as he briefly held her. It actually felt kind of nice and he considered taking it further, but he was out of time. He gently extricated himself from her clinging arms. “Sherry, I’m sorry. I’ve got a meeting I need to get to. I’m already late.” Leaning down, he covered her soft, peach mouth with his, kissing her deeply enough to, hopefully, leave her speechless. When he pulled back, Sharysse blinked and gasped like a landed fish. He traced a hand along her cheek. “Bye. Call you soon.” He walked quickly from the bar before the woman could remember he still hadn’t taken down her phone number. Stepping out of the smoky bar into a dark night illuminated by neon and streetlights, he walked down the sidewalk. Peace. Tranquility. A sense of purpose. Brody’s seductive voice echoed in Ian’s mind on a repeating loop. He looked around at the hookers, hustlers and homeless he passed on the street in this seedy Reno neighborhood. “Bullshit,” he muttered, hunching his shoulders against the chill air and striding purposefully toward his meeting in the park. **** Ian arrived far too early but that was okay. It was always smarter to get there in advance, check out the place for an easy out if things went sour. He appreciated that Quinlan had chosen an open area by the dry, leaf-choked fountain, where he could see what was coming in all directions. Ian hated meeting people in alleys or abandoned buildings where anything might be hiding in the shadows. The night was colder than he’d expected and he bounced on his heels a little, wishing

he’d worn a jacket instead of just a T-shirt. His bare arms prickled with gooseflesh. Digging in his back pocket, he pulled out the last little square from a pack of Nicorette and popped it in his mouth. As his jaws worked the precious drops of nicotine out of the gum, he cursed his attempt to give up smoking. For a guy who operated primarily on impulse, it was amazing he’d been able to kick the habit. So far. A dark figure approached from the east side of the park. Ian bounced a little harder in anticipation and his pulse sped up. Nothing was ever routine in his line of work. Things might take a nasty turn in the blink of an eye. “Hey. What have you got for me?” Quinlan was a tall man with thick glasses and a crew cut. He looked and sounded too bookish and educated to be a bottom feeding, petty criminal, which explained why he was so good at his job. Usually Ian had more to show, but tonight it was a handful of credit cards taken from wallets he’d lifted earlier that day. He drew them from his jeans pocket and fanned them out for Quinlan. The man took the cards and studied them. “How old?” “Few hours.” “That’s old.” Quinlan looked up, pale blue eyes magnified by the glasses. “Not worth much.” “Not my fault. You wouldn’t meet me any sooner.” Quinlan shrugged. “Two hundred.” Ian hesitated. He knew better than to complain since it wouldn’t do any good, and he didn’t want the danger of hanging onto the cards and using them. Besides, Ian had gotten several hundred in cash from the wallets, a pretty good haul. “All right.” Quinlan pocketed the credit cards and pulled out a money clip from an inside pocket of his brown, corduroy jacket. “Would you be interested in X-boxes? I might be coming into a small shipment if things work out right.” Quinlan shrugged and handed Ian a stack of twenties. “Maybe. Call me after you get them.” Ian nodded and pocketed the money. On the left periphery of his vision, something moved through the park. He lifted his head and his senses opened. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the figure racing through the trees, coming in his direction. When he turned back toward Quinlan, the fence was already moving quickly away in the direction from which he’d come like a giraffe loping away from an incoming cheetah. Ian’s gaze swung back toward the runner, drawing closer, dodging around trees and bushes, zigzagging through the park rather than following one of the paved paths. The small figure was a woman. Chasing fast on her heels was the shadowy silhouette of a man. The pursuer appeared to be holding a gun, but wasn’t shooting … yet. Following Quinlan’s example, Ian turned to fade away. “Help me!” Help me! The feminine voice came simultaneously from behind him and from inside his head. The word-thought was accompanied by a rush of fear-fueled adrenaline, which also originated from outside of himself. Despite every instinct of self-preservation screaming at him to disappear, he looked back. The woman was only a few yards away, barreling toward him. She had something

clutched to her chest so only one arm pumped along with her running legs. She hurtled straight at him, so close now he could hear her breath gasp raggedly in and out of her chest. Then she was upon him. Without thought, he grabbed her arm and ran alongside her. His long legs and firm grip on her wrist propelled them both along. He practically dragged the woman with him. Her breath was failing and her energy flagging. Ian glanced over his shoulder long enough to see the pursuer drawing steadily closer, and as he faced forward again he heard the sharp report of a gun. The bullet didn’t bite into his body, but the shot encouraged a burst of speed. He jerked the woman along, his fingers digging into her flesh and his mind encouraging her. Come on! Run! He knew the layout of the park like it was his own home. He’d slept there for a while when he first came to the city before he got his various businesses up and running and could afford to rent a place. Darting right, he pulled the woman down a steep incline into a wilder part of the park, where undergrowth had not been cleared and no paths were laid out. The park became woods. Low growing brambles snagged their legs and branches whipped their faces as they dodged small saplings. Behind them, their pursuer crashed through the underbrush like a rampaging bear, which, Ian supposed, made them the frightened rabbits. The slope was uneven. They stumbled and slid down the hill, impeded by rocks and fallen branches hidden in the dark. Then the woman lost her balance and went down hard on her knees, almost jerking Ian off his feet. He pulled her back up, continuing to tug her behind him with all his strength. At the bottom of the incline, the land leveled out. Ian cut a hard left, racing for the sanctuary he had in mind. The place would either be their salvation or a trap, depending on whether their pursuer found them. The fact the man wasn’t shooting at them indicated they were no longer in his sight. Although he might shoot to maim, it seemed the hunter wanted the woman alive so he wouldn’t fire blindly into the woods. Up ahead, loomed a ghostly white shape, the birch tree marking the entrance to Ian’s secret den. He hadn’t been here in a few years, but the area wasn’t so overgrown he didn’t recognize it. “Down. Crawl,” he commanded. The woman obeyed him before the words even left his lips. Both of them dropped to their hands and knees and crawled through the dense vegetation. The ferns and brambles shielded the opening of a natural cave in the side of the hill. It was a mere pit in the wall, only a yard or two deep, but big enough to fit a bedroll when the need arose. Ian scrambled into the nest of dried leaves and dirt, beneath the sheltering roots of the tree above and pulled the woman in close to him. His arms wrapped around her, his chest pressed to her back. Feeling the rise and fall of her chest, he wanted to silence her loud, gasping breaths to keep her from betraying their location. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than the woman followed the mental suggestion. With a last shuddering inhale, she calmed her breath, letting it whisper silently out her nose. They lay listening for sounds of pursuit, but the world outside the little cave was quiet. Ian realized the man was listening for them, holding still until he could locate them scrambling through the woods. For a moment, he flashed back to Jack, one of his mother’s many “dates.” He remembered hiding in the space under his bed, pressed against the wall, holding his breath, waiting to be dragged out and whaled on, but praying

tonight he’d be overlooked as the drunk man roared around the apartment. He shuddered at the memory. A stroke of the woman’s fingers on his arm calmed him. It was as if she knew and understood his fears. He squeezed her a little tighter and waited. Beyond the drooping branches and weeds that screened the den, footsteps scuffled through the underbrush. The pursuing man stopped right outside the hiding place. There was a muffled curse then the man’s voice cut through the quiet night, obviously speaking into a cell phone. “I lost her… She couldn’t have gone far. She’s with some guy now. I don’t know… Yeah. Tell the boss I’m working on it. Cover for me… All right. Meet you there.” After a moment’s silence, the man whispered, “Shit,” then his footsteps crunched away through fallen leaves. Jesus, lady, what’d you do? Ian wondered. A minute slipped by—maybe a dozen. He had no idea how much time passed as they stayed frozen in place. Despite the warm body pressed against him, his bare arms were cold and the cool earth around them gave the sensation of being buried alive. The woman shifted and her scent rose to his nostrils. She smelled of some kind of exotic flower scent mixed with sweat and fear. Ian had a sudden urge to kiss to her silky hair, fluffed up against his mouth. His arm was wrapped completely around her and his hand cupped her solid, warm shoulder. Despite the fear coursing through him, or maybe because of the surge of adrenaline in his veins, he wanted to move his hand down and cup her breast instead. She shifted and her rear rubbed against his stiffening cock. Ian fought to keep his libido under control, using the thought of the man with the gun as a suppressant. He shivered with cold, anxiety and desire. “I think it’s safe,” he whispered after another long moment dragged by. Relaxing his hold on her body, he lifted his arm so she could crawl out of the hiding place. The woman crept to the perimeter of the cave and paused, listening. Satisfied, she squirmed out of the den through the tall weeds and hanging branches to the outside world. Ian followed. Both of them crouched low, listening once more, but it appeared their pursuer had left the area. Ian straightened, brushing dirt and leaves off his clothes, then turned to look at the woman. It was hard to see her in the dark, but he could tell several things just from having held her. She was short and petite, with little sparrow bones. Long, dark hair streamed down her back. And she smelled really good. She still clutched something to her chest with one arm and now he could see it was some kind of jewelry box. His curiosity was piqued, but this wasn’t the time or place for questions. “I think he’s headed east. We should go north. It’s the quickest way out of the park, and you can disappear on the streets.” She nodded. “Thank you.” “No problem. My evening was boring up ‘til now.” **** Ian stopped on the sidewalk outside the park. “This is as far as I go. Police station’s

that way if you need it.” “No. I can’t go to the police.” “Why am I not surprised?” He rubbed a long bramble scratch on his arm. “I need to make a call. Do you have a phone?” Beneath the streetlight the whites of her eyes and her teeth flashed in her dusky face. “Not on me,” Ian lied, ready to get away from this chick as soon as possible. His instinct for self-protection told him to get the hell out of there before something else happened. His gut told him she was nothing but trouble. And he easily ignored the softbellied little voice deep inside that prodded him to help her. “Could you lend me change then?” she pleaded, taking a step closer to him as though he might dart away any moment. “I lost my purse and have nothing on me.” Ian pictured her body with literally nothing on for a split second before he responded, “Sure.” He fished the bills Quinlan had given him out of his pocket and peeled off one. “Here’s a twenty. Good luck.” “Thank you.” She accepted the money, but caught Ian’s hand and wouldn’t let go for a moment. Her grip was strong, her hand soft and small. A sensation like a low magnetic pulse shot through him, and even after she let go, he could feel a tingling in his hand. “You did more than save my life. You may have helped save the world,” she said softly. “Uh… Okay. Sure.” He wrenched his hand away from the crazy woman’s grasp and turned to go. At that moment, a pair of oncoming headlights veered off the street and a black Mercedes drove up over the curb, coming to a stop half on the sidewalk. Doors flew open and two men in suits leaped out of the car and raced toward them. “Fuck!” Ian grabbed her hand and ran again. Racing down the sidewalk away from their pursuers, he kept his eye open for a break in traffic. When there was one, he darted across the street, pulling the woman after him. Brakes screeched and horns honked as they wove around cars to the opposite side of the road. He glanced back to see the pair of suits also navigating the street. Ian ran down an alley. Dumpsters and trash littered the narrow passage and the smell of urine and garbage was choking. On the opposite end of the alley was another street, but instead of heading toward it, Ian pushed through a side door into the building, hoping to fool their followers into thinking they’d taken a shortcut. He slammed the door closed, but couldn’t lock it as the latch was broken. For a moment he leaned against the door, panting and sweating and shot a sideways glance at the woman. Her back was pressed against the wall, eyes closed and mouth open as she gasped for breath. It would be easy to run, to leave her behind, get his ass out of here and let her face whatever trouble she’d made for herself alone. But damned if just then she didn’t open her eyes and look at him with wide brown eyes that asked, What next? “Jesus,” he muttered. “What the hell did you take?” Without waiting for an answer, he made a decision. “All right. Fuck it. Come on.” He grabbed her hand once more and led her down the hallway. **** After exiting from the opposite side of the building and taking a winding path over several city blocks, always on the lookout for the black Mercedes or the men in suits, Ian finally dragged the exhausted woman up the narrow staircase to his apartment, certain

they hadn’t been followed. He checked his security system—a sliver of paper on the top right corner of the door—to make sure no one had entered his apartment, then unlocked the door and let her inside. It felt weird. He never brought women home. Any business he had with them took place in their space, their beds. His home was private. It was also his workplace. There were piles of stolen merchandise stacked against one wall: DVD players, gaming systems, iPods and Palm Pilots. The living room also contained a couch and an HDTV with surround sound. That was all. A tiny kitchenette opened off the main room, two doors on the opposite wall led to the bath and bedroom. Ian locked the door and turned to face the woman. She immediately began to talk. “My name is Mirabai Kashi. I belong to an organization called KOTE. It’s imperative I get this box to headquarters in…” Ian held up his hand. “I don’t wanna know. The less I know, the safer I am.” “It’s too late now.” She fingered the smooth wooden box in her hands. “As long as they think you’re part of this, you’re in as much danger as if you’d taken the box yourself.” Ian knew she was right. Besides, he was burning with curiosity. “Fine. Whatever.” He walked past her and dropped down on the couch. “Fill me in. Then call your people and get out of here.” She followed him to the couch and perched on the edge. “What’s your name?” “You don’t need to know.” He leaned against the back of the couch with his legs sprawled out, feigning nonchalance. He didn’t want her to know how uncomfortable it made him having her there. A smile curved her lips. “Fair enough.” She paused. “Could I have a drink of water?” He frowned. “You almost get me killed and now I have to play host?” He went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of tap water. It looked a little murky and he was kind of embarrassed he didn’t have bottled water to offer, but she took it and drained the glass. Ian was transfixed for a moment, watching her throat work as she swallowed and her hand wipe her lips when she was finished. He took the empty glass then sat on the couch beside her again. “All right.” Her voice had a trace of the lilting accent of India underlying the flat American drawl. “What I’m going to tell you will be difficult to believe, but trust me. It’s all true.” “Uh-huh.” “There is much more to this world than most humans know, things beyond their understanding because they’ve forgotten all they once knew.” She scooted back on the couch, turning to face him and gazing earnestly into his eyes. Great. A zealot. Ian was paralyzed with the excruciating numbness only a door-todoor religion peddler could bring. “There is a balance that must be maintained in order for the world to function smoothly. The elements of earth, air, water, fire and spirit are safe-guarded by Keepers, each with a special power over a particular element.” Ian’s eyes glazed. It was worse than he’d thought. Not only a zealot, but a nut. He smiled and nodded to keep her happy. “There are races other than human who occupy the planet. Protectors aid the Keepers in their work of balancing the elements, while Destroyers undermine the balance. Their

acquisitive nature drives the world toward chaos. These three types are of a species called Terrans. We live alongside humans—always have. We are what many legends are based on. You’ve probably met Terrans in your life, but wouldn’t know it.” “Interesting.” Ian glanced at the door, his legs itching to run again. “In addition to Terrans there are many other inhabitants of the world; shapeshifters and elemental beings you might refer to as fairies, for example. But that’s…” She trailed off, looking deep into Ian’s eyes. “I’m losing you, aren’t I?” “Not at all.” His fake smile stretched wider. Mirabai paused and looked at the polished wood box on the coffee table then up at him again. “Is the box real?” “Um. Yeah.” “Were the men chasing us real?” He nodded. “Then listen to what I’m telling you and try to keep an open mind.” She reached out and rested a hand on his arm. He stilled beneath her touch, feeling suddenly unaccountably calm, and waited for her to go on. “When I ran to you, you heard me call for help inside your head as well as out loud,” she said. “You often receive flashes of what people are thinking, isn’t that true?” Ian remained silent, alarmed that this woman was voicing a secret he’d hidden even from himself. He’d always had intuitive flashes but never wanted to think about them. It was simply a quirky gift he possessed, which helped when playing poker or deciding if someone was lying to him or not. “I sensed that about you. My particular gift as a Keeper is bound to the metaphysical. I work to keep the spiritual world in balance, healing peoples’ psyches, opening their minds, raising consciousness of the ‘bigger picture’ so-to-speak. Understand?” He blinked acknowledgement, although his mind still denied her words. “Sometimes my work requires me to infiltrate the negative—what I’ll call the dark side for lack of a better term. Someone has to keep tabs on what they’re up to.” Mirabai smiled, accepting Ian’s incredulity. “I know how it sounds. I don’t blame you for doubting.” “So, what’s in the box?” he asked, skirting the issue. “I don’t know yet, but it’s important. I’ve been investigating Raymond Brody’s organization…” “The TV guy! I just saw him tonight. He’s so full of shit.” Almost as much as you are. “He’s not what he appears to be,” she agreed. “The man is trouble, but he’s only a small cog in a much bigger and more dangerous machine. I went to work for the Reno branch of the Center for Human Wellbeing and stumbled across more than a charlatan fleecing people for money.” Her eyes were shadowed and she looked suddenly deeply exhausted. “Whatever is contained in this box is essential to the Destroyers. I overheard a conversation, seized an opportunity to take the box and ran. Now I need to call KOTE and deliver the box safely to headquarters.” Whether Mirabai was crazy or not, the box was a fact—a mysterious fact with a locked golden clasp. Ian leaned over and picked it up. It was much heavier than he’d

expected. He shook it. “Don’t!” He ignored her, getting up to go to the kitchen for a knife to pry the box open. She followed him. “Don’t! This is not something to mess with.” But Ian was already inserting a blade into the thin line where the lid closed and digging viciously at it. “Maybe I can pick the lock,” he muttered, tossing the useless knife down and digging through a drawer in search of something to use as a pick. “You have any hairpins?” She grabbed the box from his hands. “Stop trying to open it. Haven’t you ever heard the story of Pandora’s box?” “No.” “A girl was told not to open a chest and when she disobeyed she unleashed all the evils of the world.” “Huh. Interesting.” Ian snatched the box back and started cracking the seam against the edge of the counter. “Would you … stop it?” She struggled for possession of the box. For a moment they both had hold of it, then neither did and the box crashed to the kitchen floor. They stared down at it, but it hadn’t shattered. It sat on the floor, squat and unbreakable. “Damn!” Ian said. Mirabai leaned down and swept it up, glaring at him and cradling the box protectively. “Do you have a phone I can use or do I need to find a pay phone?” He glared at the mysterious box. “Yeah.” Digging in his front jeans pocket for his cell phone, he handed it to her. “Needs recharging, but it should work for a few more calls.” Mirabai gave him a hard look. “You said you didn’t have a phone on you.” “I lied. I tend to do that.” He left her in the kitchen to make her call, walked over to the closed blinds of the window overlooking the street and peered through the slats. He didn’t believe most of what she’d told him, but knew the men chasing her desperately wanted whatever was in that box. Although he was almost certain he’d lost them, he’d learned the “better safe than sorry” lesson long ago in hard ways. The street was clear, but it didn’t mean much if these guys were already in the building. Ian wondered what had possessed him to bring Mirabai home with him. It was impulsive, stupid and soft—three qualities he never connected with himself. He wanted her out as soon as possible—her and her crazy stories and mysterious box. She returned from the kitchen. “Someone is on his way to meet me. Justin Foster. He’s a Protector KOTE is sending to escort me to San Francisco.” “Good.” Now what was he supposed to do with her while she was waiting? Ian pictured how a normal evening would’ve passed for him. After meeting Quinlan in the park, he might have gone back to the bar for another couple of drinks and to watch the rest of the game, maybe hooked up with Sharysse or some other chick and had sex. Ian looked at Mirabai and wondered if the evening had to be a total loss. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom to wash up?” She held up her dirty hands. Ian considered saying, Only if I can scrub your back, but held his tongue and

nodded. “I’ll find you a clean shirt to wear,” he said with a glance at her grimy, white blouse. She smiled and her face was gloriously altered from average prettiness to exotic beauty. White teeth flashed against brown skin. Her dark eyes shone and crinkled at the corners. Ian forgot to breathe for a moment as she bestowed her smile on him like an amazing gift. When she turned away it was as if someone had doused the sun. A jolt of actual pain pierced his chest. He frowned at his over-the-top reaction to a simple smile. What the hell was that? After directing her toward the bathroom, he went to his bedroom and rummaged through his dresser until he found a too-tight T-shirt. He knocked on the bathroom door. Mirabai opened it and took the shirt he offered. Her face and hands were scrubbed clean, her hairline damp from the quick washing up. “Thanks.” Once more she smiled and he felt something like electric voltage surge through him. She closed the door and he stared at it. Christ, he needed a drink. In the kitchen he took a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cupboard, poured a couple of fingers and tossed it back. The liquid burned down his throat like molten gold and settled in his stomach, calming his frayed nerves. All he needed now was a cigarette and he’d be perfectly happy. He pulled the crumpled pack of Nicorette from his pocket and found only empty foil. Crap! A moment later Mirabai came out of the bathroom wearing his Giants T-shirt. It hung on her small frame, the scoop of the neckline revealing most of her shoulders and her delicate collarbones. He had an urge to run his finger along the sharp ridge of bone. The thin fabric of the shirt molded against her chest for a moment, revealing two little points. He swallowed hard and his cock leaped to attention. Then she turned and the material became loose and sexless once more. Ian poured another shot of whiskey for himself, then, remembering his host duties, held up the bottle. “Want one?” “No thanks, but I’m quite hungry if you have anything on hand.” He set down his glass and opened the fridge. There was most of a carton of fried rice that wasn’t more than a few days old. He handed it to her. “Thank you.” “Microwave’s there.” He pointed then retrieved a fork from a drawer for her. Her back was to him as she set the food in the microwave. The T-shirt had slipped all the way off one shoulder. The sight of the smooth, brown curve was riveting. An intricate braided metal ring of what looked like brass, copper and gold clasped her upper arm. “You can call me Mira, by the way. Mirabai is a little difficult for most Westerners.” She closed the microwave door and set the timer before turning around. “And do you think you could tell me your name now? It seems a little silly for me not to know it.” He hesitated then shrugged. “Ian Black.” She repeated his name. “Ian.” He liked the foreign lilt her slight accent gave it. “I suppose you have a lot of questions about all of this.” “No questions. Not really. I’d rather not know what you’ve already told me. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.” She cocked her head to one side. “You don’t believe me, do you?” “No. But I know you’ve managed to piss somebody off big time. The sooner you’re out of here, the better.”

“Thank you for helping me,” Mira said. “I don’t know how long I could have kept running. And thank you for letting me use your phone to call KOTE.” Despite his protestation of lack of curiosity, Ian actually had a lot of questions. He chose an easy one. “What’s the acronym stand for?” “Keepers of the Environment. It’s sort of a governing board for all Keepers. Like the U.N.” The woman really had her little imaginary world well thought out. Mira picked up his sketchbook, lying on the kitchen counter and flipped idly through it. He stepped forward and snatched it from her hands. No one had ever looked at his sketches and as far as he was concerned no one ever would. His drawing habit was embarrassing and something he kept totally to himself. He opened a drawer and tossed the book into it. “So, you work for KOTE. You’re a … Keeper.” “That’s right.” She half-smiled as she looked at him, as if she knew perfectly well he was humoring her. The timer rang and she took the rice from the microwave. “You control the elements like Storm in the X-Men?” No harm in playing into her fantasy. “Well, my gifts as a Spirit Keeper aren’t quite that dramatic.” Her smile widened. “What can you do?” Ian flashed on the park and Mira’s voice echoing inside his head, Help me! “As I said, I’m a healer.” She forked up some rice and ate it. Obviously she wasn’t going to brag on her imaginary magical powers so Ian changed tack. “This Brody guy. What’s he really up to? I knew all this peace and happiness bullshit was a scam.” She shrugged. “Often there’s truth to be found even in the midst of lies. Not everything Brody says is wrong. But he’s manipulating people for purposes that have nothing to do with the ‘wellbeing’ he claims to offer.” “He’s after their money.” “That too, but I believe he has even deeper motives to control them. Brody is siphoning off some of the divine spark that accompanies will power. In essence, he’s putting the spiritual world off kilter while preparing his followers’ minds to obey him without question.” “Brainwashing at that fancy retreat center?” “Pretty much.” She wolfed down more rice. Ian enjoyed the gusto with which she ate. Mira might be a tiny thing, but she could pack it away. “My assignment was to find out everything I could about Raymond Brody’s operation by working on staff, find the weaknesses and figure out a way to reveal his true motivations to his followers. Then I learned about the box and things got … complicated.” Ian leaned against the counter, sipping his whiskey. He glanced at the box sitting on the counter and wondered what it could possibly contain. Mira sounded so sane. Her words were sci-fi fantasy nonsense, but the gravity of her tone had him half-believing them. “Why are you telling me all of this? I’d think you’d want to keep it as secret as possible. How do you know I won’t go to Raymond Brody and sell you out?” Ian mentally kicked himself for saying it. He was going to get himself killed by this cult of KOTE if he didn’t watch out. She set the takeout carton and fork down on the counter and looked into his eyes.

“Because I know you. I told you I sense things about people. I recognized the good in you at once. You’ll be a big help in all of this, I know.” Her eyes glowed, dark brown and shining bright at the same time. For a moment her whole body seemed to radiate a golden luminescence. Ian swallowed. “Lady, you got the wrong guy. I’m no hero.” She gave him that heart-stopping smile again as she looked into him and apparently right through him, making him feel transparent. “Maybe you don’t know yourself as well as you think you do.” “Naw. I’m pretty sure I’m not one of the good guys.” Ian thought of Haskell’s red face as the man gasped for breath on the floor of Manny’s restroom. “I’m a pretty good judge of character,” she said. “That’s why I was sent to investigate Brody.” “Why didn’t those guys shoot you when they had the chance and take the box back?” He changed the subject. “Would have been a lot easier.” “I’m not sure.” Mira frowned. “Brody must have told them to bring me back alive so he could question me.” Suddenly Ian was uneasy, thinking of the men who’d chased them and wondering why they’d been so easy to shake. But if the guys had tailed them here, surely they would have made themselves known by now. His skin itched and the hair at the base of his scalp prickled and stood up. He felt more trouble coming and despite the fact he’d denied his extra sensory powers to Mira, he always trusted his gut instincts. They rarely steered him wrong. Pushing away from the counter, he turned toward the source of his anxiety—the apartment door—and reached for Mira’s hand. “Something’s not right. We have to go. Now!” The door burst open, the wood splintering along the latch as it was kicked in. Two men in suits exploded through the doorway into the apartment.

Chapter Two Mira only had a moment to register the men’s entry before Ian seized her wrist in his vise-like grip and thrust her behind him. She remembered the box on the counter and grabbed it, hugging it to her. “Fuck!” Ian muttered then launched himself at the intruders. Charging toward them, he aimed low and rammed his shoulder into one man’s gut, driving him back into his taller partner. The tall man staggered into the doorframe, and caught at the wall to keep from falling. Tackling the first man to the floor, Ian started punching. The attacker who was still standing kicked him, catching him in the side and knocking him off his partner. Mira saw the knife Ian had used in his attempt to pry open the box and seized it. She hesitated, poised to throw at the tall man who now straddled Ian, punching him. She’d never deliberately harmed anyone in her life. It was absolutely foreign to her nature to cause physical harm to another living creature. Closing her eyes, she prayed for her aim to be true and her heart to be free of anger or hatred for the attackers then threw the knife across the room. It struck a glancing blow off the shoulder of the man pummeling Ian and distracted him, giving Ian the opportunity to squirm out from under him. The tall man caught Ian’s legs as he crawled away and pulled him back. Mira stopped watching the struggling pair because Brody’s other henchman was back on his feet and coming for her. She dodged left, scurrying out of the kitchen and weaving around the couch, dodging her pursuer. She knocked a stack of boxed DVD players into his path. The man tripped and sprawled over them. Ian had gotten the upper hand in his fight. Wrapping one hand around the man’s throat, he drove a fist into his face with a grunt. Glancing up at Mira, he shouted, “Go! Get out of here.” Mira checked on her pursuer. He’d regained his feet and was finally pulling a gun from his shoulder holster. Why hadn’t they come in with guns drawn? Leaping over the toppled stack of DVD boxes, she darted toward the open door. “Ian, run!” He jumped up, aimed a last kick to his opponent’s stomach then raced after her into the hallway. Together they clattered down two flights of stairs and out into the street. Ian grabbed Mira’s hand and once more pulled her down the sidewalk behind him. She felt like she’d been dragged along like his shadow all night and stumbled as she tried to keep up with his long stride, dropping the box. It hit the cement, but still didn’t break. The wood seemed impervious to destruction. Mira guessed it was under a protective enchantment. “Wait!” She stopped dead, pulling Ian to a halt. “The box.” “Leave it. Let ‘em have it and they’ll quit chasing you.” He tugged at her hand. “No. It’s too important.” She broke free from his grasp and stooped to pick it up. “Jesus,” he cursed, grabbing her wrist again and practically jerking her off her feet. They sped down the pavement and around the corner. About a half block from the apartment, Ian stopped in front of a building. The sign above the door declared in flickering red neon, “Bar.” He shoved through the door.

Mira followed, unable to do otherwise with her wrist practically crushed in his fist. Both of them were winded and panting. Ian had blood trickling from his nose and smeared across his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. The bar’s patrons glanced over at the newcomers with either apathetic or curious eyes. Drawing a deep breath, Ian turned to Mira. “Okay. You wait here,” he pushed her toward a vacant booth near the door, “I’ll get a car.” She nodded and collapsed on the seat. He started for the door. “Ian,” she called. One hand on the door, he turned to look at her. “You will come back?” The moment of hesitation before he answered and the flicker in his eyes let her know he’d considered bailing on her. “Yes,” he said gruffly. “I’ll be back.” He pushed through the door and disappeared. Mira’s heart pounded from the adrenaline rush of their escape. She took the opportunity of the minutes alone to slow and steady her breathing. Closing her eyes, she turned her gaze inward and up. Instantly calm settled on her, enveloping her and bringing her back into balance. Her heart rate slowed and a sensation like the coolness on her tongue after sucking a breath mint flowed through her. She sat in silence, oblivious to her surroundings. Both of the men in suits could have burst through the door and seized her before she would have noticed. After several seconds of attuning to inner peace, she prayed for guidance in choosing the right path and offered a prayer of thanks for Ian’s unexpected appearance in her life. “Hey. Come on! Car’s waiting.” An irritated voice broke her concentration. She opened her eyes. Ian stared at her with a bemused expression. He offered his hand once more. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. “Out the back.” He strode rapidly through the bar, down a dark back hall to an exit door. In the alley behind the bar, next to dumpsters and piles of trash, a rust-riddled, blue Camaro idled with a rumble like a jet ready to take flight. Ian went around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. Mira pushed a pile of junk—fast food bags, a baseball cap, and beer bottles—from the passenger seat onto the floor before she scrambled inside. Before she even had the door shut, Ian backed out of the alley. She searched for the seatbelt and finally found it pushed deep inside the seat. When she tried to click the buckle together, it was broken. The car turned onto the street and sped down the road. Mira glanced around the interior. There was a scapular of Jesus of the Sacred Heart hanging from the rearview mirror. Across the back window was a plastic stick-on message proclaiming something in Spanish. She looked down at the steering column and saw there was no key in the ignition. “This is your car?” “Yes.” He stared straight ahead, out the windshield. “No it isn’t. I don’t feel comfortable about this.” He glanced sideways at her. “Would you feel more comfortable gagged and tied up in the trunk of those goons’ car?”

Mira conceded the point and fell silent. She peered out the window at the passing city lights. Ian obsessively checked the rearview mirror, but the headlights behind them gave nothing away. He made a number of turns, zigzagging through the city blocks until they reached the highway. No one appeared to be following. “San Francisco, huh?” he asked. “You can’t go back home. You won’t be safe until this is resolved.” He grimaced. “Thanks so much for dragging me into it.” He pulled onto the on-ramp of the highway and sped up until the Camaro blended into the never-ending river of traffic. Mira borrowed his phone again and checked in with Justin Foster, the Protector she was to meet. She explained they were on the way to San Francisco. “Are you being followed?” Foster asked. Mira glanced at Ian whose gaze darted from the road before them to the rear and side mirrors—vigilant, nervous. But she sensed his vibration was always high, like a tension wire ready to snap. Even in repose she was willing to bet he never truly relaxed. “I don’t think so,” she answered Foster. “I’m already on my way. I’ll keep in touch and meet you part way.” “All right. Thanks for coming.” “It’s my job. Glad to do it.” The man’s voice was warm and reassuring. Mira hung up and fell silent for a while, staring out at the window at the passing lights and traffic signs that loomed then faded from view. “Thank you again for helping me,” she finally said to break the silence. “What’s your organization’s policy on reimbursement for damages and destruction of property?” he asked dryly, maneuvering the car into the passing lane. “How about personal injury and mental trauma? Loss of income?” Mira seized on that. “What exactly do you do for a living?” “I’m an entrepreneur. I have a lot of businesses.” She let that sit for a moment, watching his profile in the flickering light and shadow. Ian was good-looking. Straight, even features, tousled jet-black hair, quizzically arched eyebrows and a permanent sardonic twist to his mouth. His eyes were deep brown like hers; the smile that came and went on his lips never touched them. Mira sensed the pain and loneliness he tried to hide from the world behind sarcasm and wise-ass remarks. He reached out and flipped on the radio to fill the silent void in the car. A thumping bass beat out a rhythm and a screaming guitar filled in the melody. Soon both of them were head-bobbing along with the music. Ian glanced over at her. “You like Boomtown Rats?” “They were an underrated band,” she replied. “You needn’t sound so surprised. Did you think I’d only listen to Ravi Shankar or something?” He grinned. Mira’s pulse sped up. She was sure he used that lop-sided smile to topple women into bed like ninepins and imagined it would be effective. Her nipples tightened and it had nothing to do with the air in the car being chilly. “Your sketches,” she said. “They’re very good. How long have you been drawing?” Ian’s smile extinguished, replaced by a scowl. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to poke through other peoples’ stuff?” “Sorry. But they were quite wonderful.” Mira thought about the brief glimpse of

frozen moments of time, slices of city life, snapshots of people and places, and tried to find the perfect word to describe Ian’s work. “Very intimate. Soulful.” He scowled harder, glaring a hole through the windshield. She reached out and touched his arm. “That’s a compliment. There’s nothing wrong with being an artist. Nothing wrong with interpreting how you see the world on paper.” His gaze dropped to her hand on his arm then lifted back to the window. “Shut up.” Mira took her hand from his warm forearm. “Shutting up,” she said with a teasing lilt to her voice. They drove about twenty minutes with nothing but the radio filling the silence between them, then the car suddenly veered left. Ian fought the wheel as the car waffled back and forth across the lane. “Shit!” Mira looked out the back window, thinking it was some evasive maneuver and they were being chased. But as he brought the car under control and steered into the breakdown lane, she realized they had a flat. The car came to a halt, tilting drunkenly to the left. “Fuck!” he cursed again and hit the wheel with both hands. “Goddamn, motherfucking, fuck!” He put the car in park and opened his door to get out. “Careful,” Mira said. Cars streamed by, as noisy as swarming hornets. Ian closed the door behind him and stood for a moment, staring at the tire. She opened her door and got out. Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she walked around to the back of the car. Together they stared at the closed trunk, the trunk for which they had no key, assuming there was even a spare tire inside. The engine purred. Choking exhaust fumes rose and Mira covered her nose and mouth with a hand while looking around at the busy highway and barren country on either side. “Goddamn it. We’re going to have to drive this to the next exit.” Ian kicked the bumper. Mira looked up and saw the exit wasn’t more than a half-mile away. They got back in the car and drove slowly, bumpily along the shoulder. The car shook with the speed of passing vehicles. When they’d crawled safely up the off-ramp, Ian pulled over and turned off the car. “We’ll walk from here.” He rummaged in the back seat until he found a hooded coat, which he tossed at Mira. She put it on, breathing in the stale odor of sweat and pot smoke embedded in the heavy, olive drab jacket. She was grateful to have it. The night air was cold. “What about you?” There was no second jacket. “I’m fine. Turn around.” He took the box from her and nestled it in the hood, drawing the ties up tight to create a carrying pouch. They got out of the car and walked toward the lights of a service station a ways down the road. Mira glanced back at the abandoned vehicle, feeling a twinge of guilt about the car’s owner, who would probably get it back at some point but was still inconvenienced by the theft. She looked over at Ian, his stiff-backed posture radiating irritation, and wondered if he was even capable of feeling guilt for taking the car. His sense of right and wrong appeared pretty warped, but underneath, Mira sensed innate goodness. He was like an antique brass urn, which only needed polishing to bring its golden luster to the surface.

The gas station was closed. They walked around it but found no used tires or handy tire iron anywhere. Mira drew her hands up into the sleeves of the jacket as the frigid breeze cut through it. Ian shivered. He wore only a T-shirt and in the glow of the security light, she could see his arms were goose-pimpled, the fine, dark hairs standing up. She moved in close and took his arm, wrapping the loose sleeve of the jacket around it and hugging it to her body. Ian glanced down at her, eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. “Looks like a motel over there.” He nodded at another group of lights a little farther up the dark road. They walked toward the outpost of civilization. Mira’s legs felt leaden and sore as she trudged along. She was exhausted, freezing and ready to collapse. They had to pound at the door of the motel office to rouse the owner from his room in back. Ian paid cash and the man didn’t question his lack of transportation. The guy was probably grateful to get any customers at all. The motel was set back a little too far from the highway to get freeway traffic. The room looked like it hadn’t been updated since nineteen sixty something. The pulsing blue, black and white swirls on the drapes and bedspread were painful to look at. Mira shuddered at mankind’s capability for bad design sense as she crossed the matted blue carpet and sat on the bed. She reached behind her to loosen the drawstring on the hood and remove the box. “Here, let me.” Ian took the box from the hood and ran his hands over the glossy cherry surface inlaid with a darker wood that might have been walnut or teak. He shook it, held it to his ear to listen then handed it to Mira. “What do you think it is?” She shrugged. “I don’t know, but Brody was holding it for his father. Algernon Brody is one of the most dangerous men in the world. If the contents of this box are important to him, it can’t be good.” Ian sat on the bed next to her and drew the edge of the ugly, shiny bedspread around his shoulders. “So, for now, only the TV preacher is after this? He’ll try to keep the fact he fucked up and lost it a secret from the big guns as long as possible.” “I think so.” She pulled Ian’s phone from her pocket. “I’m going to call Justin once more and tell him where we are. He should be able to get here in a few hours.” “The cavalry. Great.” Ian tapped his finger on top of the box lying on the bed between them. “How do we know this thing doesn’t have a tracking device in it? I haven’t seen anybody following us, but I didn’t last time either and look how well that turned out.” He stood and walked to the window, separating the slats of the vertical blinds to peer through. “I suppose it’s possible,” Mira said. “But I don’t think so. There was no time for Raymond to attach any kind of device before I took it and he didn’t expect it to be stolen. He was simply supposed to hold it. I think we’re safe here for a little while. You could probably relax.” Ian’s jumpy demeanor made her feel more frazzled. “Sit down and warm up.” He ignored her, still gazing out the window. “God, I’d kill for a cigarette right now.” Smoothing the cheap vinyl slats back in place, he walked over to the nightstand, picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Sound blared from the box and a blurry picture wavered on the screen. Ian stood, staring at the television. Mira wanted to snap at him to sit down. Instead, she got off the bed and went to the bathroom. When she came back, he was back at the window again. He glanced at her

then began wandering around the room—pacing like a trapped cat. Shrugging off the borrowed jacket, she kicked off her shoes, turned back the slippery bedspread, thin blankets and sheets and climbed under the covers to get warm. Ian watched her from the corner of his eye, but never stopped his restless movement. The TV was tuned to a poker tournament. Mira gazed at the discolored image. Suddenly Ian spoke. “So, besides saving the world, what do you do? You got a day job?” He leaned against the edge of the low dresser, arms folded over his chest, looking at her. “I’m a psychic therapist. My family emigrated from India when I was a child. I grew up in California. My practice is in Oakland. Because I work for myself, I can take breaks as needed to perform jobs for KOTE.” “A shrink.” Ian gave a small snort. “You have a problem with that?” Mira raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. “No. I just don’t take a lot of stock in that stuff. Too many people spilling their guts, bitching and moaning about their lives, what daddy did or didn’t do. It’s…” he paused looking for the right word. “Weak.” “There’s nothing wrong with weakness, being vulnerable and working through problems with the help of another person. Everyone needs help sometimes.” “Whatever.” Ian pushed off the dresser and started pacing again—back to the window, to the motel door where he re-checked the locks, back to the center of the floor to stare at the TV, into the bathroom, then back out into the motel room. He jittered around the enclosed space like a strung-out junky. “Ian!” It came out a little sharper than she intended. “Why don’t you take a rest? Sit down, or better yet, lie down and nap until Justin gets here.” “About this Foster guy, have you met him before?” He stood, remote in hand, flipping channels like shuffling a deck of cards. “I’ve met him a couple of times, but I haven’t really spoken to him before. I’ll recognize him if that’s what you’re getting at.” She patted the bed. “Here. Sleep.” “I don’t sleep.” He tossed the remote on the bed and walked back over to the window. “You might feel better if you did.” “I’m fine.” “I can see that,” she soothed. “How long have you had trouble sleeping?” He glared at her over one shoulder, brown eyes snapping. “Did I say I had trouble sleeping? I just choose not to. I don’t need it.” “All right. But humor me. Come and sit down a minute … please.” Ian walked a few steps toward the bed then stopped. “There’s a technique I use with some of my patients. It might help with your insomnia.” Among other things. “Will you let me try it?” He still hesitated, frowning. “Trust me.” Mira smiled and held out her hand. “You’ll like the results.” Ian crossed the last few steps to the bed then sat on the edge looking at her warily. He reminded her of a dog that had been kicked too many times and must be cajoled to come near. “It’s all right. Turn and face me and give me your hands.” She seized the remote from his hand and turned off the TV. “This is fucking weird,” he grumbled, drawing his legs up under him on the bed and

holding his hands out as if she were going to put cuffs on and arrest him. “Humor me.” Mira took his hands in hers and held them lightly, resting their joined hands on her lap and closing her eyes. Breathing in and out, slowly and deeply, she focused her concentration then reached out with her mind to touch Ian’s. She felt along the edges of his consciousness the way a blind person fingers Braille. It was like touching the tossing waves of the sea. His mind was a swirling mass of thoughts, emotions, energies—unfocused and restless. Mira frowned and prodded a little deeper. She knew immediately when he registered her presence because his hands jerked against her grip and his mind clenched tight shut. “Shh,” she said, stroking the backs of his hands with her thumbs. “It’s all right. Let go. Trust me.” He settled and didn’t flinch the second time she gently probed his mind. She felt around in the dark, unfamiliar house, touching walls of doubts, bumping into chairs of fear, shame and guilt until she had a general idea of the shape and dimensions of the room. It was a very cluttered place. Mira prepared to do some spring-cleaning. She exhaled once more, extended her figurative hands inside Ian’s mind, and began to draw away the heavy burden of pain and anxiety he carried with him every day. Channeling his emotions, she experienced each one as she took it on herself. Without directly experiencing the details of his past, she got the general impression of his chaotic, painful life. A part of Ian was still the traumatized child he’d once been, bewildered by the world. He believed the defensive wall he’d raised between himself and other people was strong and thick and would keep him safe, but she crumbled its weak mortar easily, releasing him from his troubles for this one evening. “Oh God,” he murmured, his voice thick. Exhausted from the effort of the healing, Mira broke concentration and opened her eyes. Ian was frowning, his eyes squeezed shut. Suddenly he opened them and looked straight into hers, gazing at her with near reverence. “What did you do?” His tone was full of awed wonder. “Jesus.” “Not quite,” Mira teased. “I call that a soul colonic.” She kept her tone light. It made her uncomfortable when clients treated her like a demigod. “I told you my gift was spiritual healing.” She shrugged. “It’s just what I do, like the way you draw. Everyone has a talent.” “God,” he repeated, “I’ve never felt so … light.” He blinked and gazed around the ugly motel room as if on a hallucinogenic high. “It’s amazing.” His gaze settled on Mira. “It doesn’t feel like me.” She smiled and squeezed his hands before letting them go. She would have liked to hold them longer. “This is you. The self that’s buried beneath all your doubts and fears.” Mira scooted back on the bed, plumped up a pillow against the headboard and relaxed into it. She didn’t embellish her explanation. Sometimes it was a pain being a spiritual teacher, especially when a man you were interested in looked at you like you were a saint instead of a sexually desirable woman. Ian sat for another moment, seemingly overwhelmed then his habitual smirk quirked the corners of his mouth. “You must have a thriving practice. If I’d known therapy was like that, I’d have gone for it a long time ago.” He rose and walked to the window to look out once more, but without palpable nervous tension radiating from him like before. He

turned toward Mira and looked at the bed covers opened invitingly next to her. “I guess lying down for a little bit couldn’t hurt.” She was embarrassed that her stomach jumped and pulse quickened at the idea of him sleeping next to her. Clearing her throat, she laid the pillows flat and stretched out full length on the bed, pulling the covers over her this time. A yawn cracked her jaw and a slight headache throbbed behind her eyes. Healings always took a toll on her. Ian turned off the light and climbed into bed. Mira closed her eyes, but was conscious of the weight and warmth of his body settling beside hers. She was tense and aroused by the faint whiff of male animal exuding from his skin. She closed her eyes and willed herself to stop feeling like a junior high girl with a sudden gut-twisting crush. His weight shifted on the mattress and he breathed out. Mira remembered the brief, tense moments he’d held her in his arms in the little cave in the hillside. She’d like to feel those sinewy arms around her again, feel his warm breath on her neck. Desire swelled in her. She turned on her side with her back to Ian, wondering if she could pretend to fall asleep and then casually roll next to him. They would wake up snuggled together like a couple in a cheesy road trip flick. Hollywood made those movies for a reason—the concept was irresistible. Opposites collide and fireworks erupt before the inevitable melding together of two dissonant spirits into a coherent whole. Ian was human, not Terran, and an unlikely match for her in every conceivable way, but stranger things had happened. Who could explain why opposite elements sometimes made a perfect pair?

Chapter Three Raymond Brody paced his luxurious office on the top floor of the old Alexandria Hotel. Brody’s corporation had bought the Alexandria last month and refurbished it into offices for the Reno branch of the Center for Human Wellbeing. Brody enjoyed the antique splendor of his suite of rooms here. His footsteps whispered when he crossed the plush gray carpet. He straightened the spine of a book that was a fraction of an inch out of alignment on his bookshelf. He noticed the leaves of the ornamental tree in the corner were dusty and gave an annoyed click of his tongue as he brushed a light coating of grit from a glossy leaf. The cleaning crew was clearly lax and might need replacing. Crossing the soft carpet again, he gazed out the window at the street below. Red taillights and white headlights made pretty patterns against the black street. He stared, entranced for a moment, wondering who was in the cars and where they were going. Did they know their purpose in life? Then he wondered where the fuck his team was and why they hadn’t called in over an hour. Was their phone dead or had they fucked up so badly they were afraid to face his wrath? His stomach churned at the thought of what their failure to retrieve the box would mean for him. Reaching into his pants pocket, he retrieved a roll of antacid tablets, ripped open the foil and crunched down another fruit-flavored tablet. They didn’t really help his stomach, but he was addicted to them. The act of chewing them calmed him. He slammed his hand against the window frame so hard the glass panes rattled. Damn! How had he been so clueless about the woman? How had he not recognized her as a Keeper, especially since he’d been expecting KOTE to send spies? It had been Brody’s policy to meet and greet as many of the new hires as possible, to give them a personal handshake by which he could sense if there was anything off about them. Yet she’d slipped past his radar. How much information had she gleaned about his operation, and how difficult was it going to be to get his box back? Ray’s intercom buzzed. He started, jumpy as a half-skinned cat hanging from a pole, and strode to his desk to press the button. “Yes.” “Coleman and Haviland are here, sir.” His secretary’s cool voice was like balm on an open wound. “Alone?” “Yes, sir.” “Send them in.” He braced his hands against his desk, put his head down and breathed deeply, struggling to gain composure. The pair hadn’t managed to catch the woman. That much was clear. Exhaling, he closed his eyes. All right. He had a contingency plan, but it sure as hell would’ve been nice to have this resolved tonight. Ray straightened as his office door opened and the two men entered. Their suits were rumpled, their demeanors as sheepish as a pair of schoolboys brought up before the principal. He let them suffer for several long moments, his gaze shifting back and forth between tall, elegant Haviland and short, stocky Coleman. Finally he spoke. “Well?” “We had her and the man who’s helping her trapped in his apartment, but they, uh …

got away.” Haviland’s gaze dropped to the floor. “We found out some information about the guy,” Coleman offered, almost smiling in his eagerness to please. “Ian Black had a couple of convictions for petty larceny and drug dealing when he was younger, but nothing recently. From the goods in his apartment, it looks like he’s a fence.” “Very informative. Thank you.” Brody’s voice dripped sarcasm. “But where’s my box?” Coleman chanced a sideways glance at his partner. “Sir, if you’d given us the go ahead to take the girl out, we would’ve had it by now.” “I want the box and the woman.” He bit out the words. “The information she has on KOTE is invaluable. My father would be extremely pleased to receive such a valuable commodity as a live Keeper. How difficult could it be for two professionals such as yourselves to catch one woman and bring her to me?” Haviland cleared his throat. “She does have extraordinary powers, sir. She and Black slipped out of the apartment and by the time we got down to the street they’d disappeared. We believe she’s going to KOTE headquarters.” “Brilliant deduction. So why are you here in my office instead of on the road to San Francisco?” “Yes, sir,” Coleman apologized. “We’re on our way right now.” Brody turned his back on the bumbling duo and walked to the window again, gazing out at the panorama of city lights. “No. Never mind. I have someone else who’ll take care of this.” He looked in the window glass and saw the dim reflections of Haviland and Coleman exchange a look. “You two report to Murav and then go home and get some rest. The pair of you look like shit.” “Yes, sir,” Haviland said. “Thank you, Mr. Brody. Sorry about the screwup,” Coleman added. Brody lifted a dismissive hand without turning around. He continued to watch the men’s reflections as they walked through the door and it closed behind them, then he went to his desk and pressed Murav’s number. The head of security answered immediately. “Yes, sir.” “Haviland and Coleman are on their way to you. Take care of them.” “Yes, sir.” He hung up, sat down in the ergonomically designed chair behind his carved teak desk and swiveled back and forth. Pressing his palms together in a parody of prayer, he tapped his fingertips against his mouth. He appreciated employees like Murav who never questioned and always got things right the first time. Ray’s father appreciated those same qualities and now that he was in a position of power himself, he understood Algernon much better. No wonder his father had been hard on him. He’d been an incredible fuckup until recently. This mission, the mystery box, was his chance to prove he’d changed, to prove he could follow directions to the letter and be trusted with high-level information. Ray had hoped the work he’d done in forming the Center and securing thousands of followers with his charismatic appeal would have been enough to impress his father. Maybe it had. At least the old man was relying on him for something important now—that was new. Yet, here he was, failing again. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the chair, tilting it as far as it would go. His hands gripped the armrests and he spun in lazy circles. Please

let him get this situation back on track, let the contingency plan work and the box be returned before his father ever knew it was missing. The hell of it was Ray couldn’t stick around the Reno headquarters to see it through. He’d finished filming his latest commercial and his two speaking engagements were over. Now he must fly back to Indianapolis to make an appearance at the retreat center tomorrow. He blindly spun in giddy circles that made his stomach lurch worse than ever. He considered going to the bathroom and retching some of the bile out of his gut. Instead, he reached for the middle drawer of his desk, took out the large bottle of Pepto-Bismol and drank down a quarter of the bottle in one gulp. Ray pressed the intercom. His secretary answered immediately. She was another worthy employee, who understood there was no such thing as “after hours.” She was always at his disposal when he was in Reno and always got things done just the way he liked them. “Yes, sir?” “Have them bring the limo around and prep the Lear for takeoff.” “Yes, sir. Anything else?” He thought a moment. “Tomorrow you can let personnel know that Haviland and Coleman are off the payroll.” A slow smile curved his mouth as he pictured how Murav would deal with them. “Severance checks won’t be necessary.”

Chapter Four Ian woke with a face full of sweet-scented hair, an armful of warm flesh, a curvy body pressed up against him, and a raging hard-on nestled between two soft butt cheeks. Beneath his hand was a small, firm mound. Breast, Ian identified. He gave it an experimental squeeze, keeping his eyes closed so he could pretend he was still asleep if Mira protested. He nuzzled his mouth into the nape of her neck beneath the thick mane of hair and shifted his cock, resting in the groove of her ass. It felt really good. He could get used to waking up like this. He hadn’t been so rested, so comfortable, so at peace in longer than he could remember. Curving his body around Mira’s petite frame, he felt like an NBA star even though he wasn’t exceptionally tall. She was one of those wispy East Indian girls who looked like she lived on water and air although he’d seen her pack away most of a quart of fried rice. The fragility of her appearance was deceptive. She was like a bar of steel beneath silky olive skin. Beyond the physical, there was a core of inner strength in Mira. Her large, liquid eyes seemed to take up most of her face. They were impossible to look away from when she turned them on him last night like a pair of searchlights exposing everything. Ian opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly to look at her profile. He noted the flash of gold earring against her black hair and the small diamond stud in her left nostril, which moved up and down with her gentle breathing. Still asleep then. Good. His hand, on its own volition, fondled her small breast through loose T-shirt fabric, kneading it lightly then brushing over the hardened nipple with his thumb. His erection grew stiffer. He exhaled slowly and then bent and pressed his lips to the back of Mira’s shoulder, getting a mouthful of hair involved in the kiss. She stirred and made a soft, murmuring sound. It didn’t sound protesting. In fact she arched her back slightly, pressing her tit more firmly into his caressing hand. He squeezed again and rolled the erect nipple between finger and thumb. Mira moaned quietly and wiggled her bottom against his aching cock. A loud knock sounded on the motel door. “Damn it! Mother-fucker!” Ian’s stomach leaped as memories of Brody’s goons bursting into his apartment last night washed over him. He jerked his arms from around Mira and scrambled off the bed to face the door. He didn’t know what he’d do if someone burst through it, but he instinctively stood between the door and the woman. A muffled voice from the other side of the door called, “Mirabai Kashi? It’s Justin Foster from KOTE.” Mira climbed out of bed and went to let him in. “Wait! Check first. Make sure it’s really him.” She spoke through the door. “Can you step in front of the window so I can see you, please?” Peering through the slats of the blinds, she nodded at Ian and opened the door. A strong-jawed, clean-cut, blond, blue-eyed man stepped inside. Ian smelled cop immediately and his skin crawled. His eyes narrowed at the confidence and power with which Foster strode into the cheap motel room and made the space his own. Military, Ian

decided. Green Beret or Seal. He despised the man on sight. Closing the door behind him, the man held out his hand to Mira. “Justin Foster.” “I’m so glad you’re here.” Mira’s tone was warm and her handclasp lasted a little longer than Ian thought necessary. Foster smiled. “It’s my job.” He glanced around the room and his gaze settled on Ian. “You’re Ian Black?” He kept his expression neutral and nodded, but didn’t go over to shake Foster’s hand. The man’s laser-blue eyes focused on Mira. “The box?” She had tucked the box down between the mattress and headboard where it was hidden but could easily be grabbed if they’d been forced to run again in the night. Ian retrieved the box, resisting the desire to shake it again, and passed it to Mira. She presented it to the Protector. Ian was surprised at how quickly he’d accepted Mira’s fantasy of Protectors, Keepers of the Environment and Destroyers. If this was a role-playing game, he supposed he’d be a troll. Foster examined the box, turning it over in his hands. “KOTE filled me in on what happened, but I’d like to hear the complete story of how you got this.” “All right.” Mira paused. “Could I, ah, go to the bathroom first? I just woke up.” “Of course.” A warm smile crossed Foster’s handsome features. “Take your time.” Mira exchanged looks with Ian as she passed. She winked at him then disappeared into the rest room. Ian was left to chat with Captain America on his own. He drew a breath, and sat down on the edge of the bed, feigning relaxation. “So you’re the guy sent to rescue us?” “Yep. Guess so.” Foster sat on the lone chair in the room, resting the box on his lap. “What are your credentials? I like to know whose hands I’m putting my life in,” Ian drawled, swinging his legs up on the bed to sit cross-legged, elbows on knees, staring at Foster. The man smiled faintly. “My family’s been in the ‘protecting’ business for generations. I gather Mira filled you in on Terrans.” Ian nodded. “Protector isn’t a job, it’s what we are,” Foster explained. “Our history is as old as mankind’s. Because of Terrans’ many special abilities, there was a time when men considered our species gods. But we actually come from the same genetic root. Terrans simply diverged from humans along the evolutionary path. My specialized branch of the family tree, Protector, is committed to guarding the Keepers. Trust me. I’ll keep you both safe until we reach KOTE.” “Sounds good. Unfortunately, I don’t really trust anybody.” Especially not loonies who think they’re a master race. “Can you be a little more specific about your background? Maybe provide some references or testimonials?” Foster looked more amused than annoyed. “I was a C.I.A. agent for years. It gave me an opportunity to move globally and dovetailed with my real duties as a Protector. A few years ago I quit the Agency and began working for KOTE full time. I travel to hot spots, helping out where I’m needed.” His smirk widened into a grin. “Is this the kind of information you’re looking for? Do I pass muster?” Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you have any special powers? Laser eyes, freeze rays, super strength, that kind of thing?” Foster laughed. “Some of the latter and a little hit-and-miss telepathy. Guess I mostly

rely on my strength. I certainly don’t possess the mental powers someone like Ms. Kashi has.” Ian had been kidding. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with that answer so he responded dryly. “Guess you’ll have to do.” He fell silent, uncomfortable and expecting Foster to grill him in return, but the man didn’t ask any questions, as if it didn’t matter, as if he already knew all there was worth knowing about him. Ian fidgeted with the bedspread, picking at a loose thread poking up from the slippery acrylic surface. He glanced up at Foster, irritated that the man looked completely at ease. The Protector’s face was composed and self-assured as he waited patiently for Mira to emerge from the bathroom. It was annoying. Usually Ian was a good talker, knew how to fill silences and put people at ease so as to get what he wanted, but he felt off-kilter here, uneasy and estranged from the world he knew. He felt a sharp desire to be home in his crappy, little apartment, never having met Mirabai Kashi. He tried to call up that serenity he’d experienced after Mira held his hands and did her thing last night, but the peaceful feeling was evaporating and his old insecurities and worries were already crowding back in to take its place. A moment later Mira returned to the room. “All right. That’s better.” Ian suddenly realized he needed to piss like a racehorse too, but he wasn’t about to miss a moment of Mira’s explanation or leave her alone in the same room with Captain America. She sat on the end of the bed, one leg on the floor, the other drawn up beside her, and began her tale. “I first heard about Brody’s Center for Human Wellbeing about four months ago. With his connections, I doubted his intentions were good. I went to hear him speak when he came to San Francisco. Everything he said was reasonable. His message appeared to come from the heart but with Algernon Brody as a father, I couldn’t believe his agenda was for real. I received KOTE’s permission to investigate the organization.” “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Foster said. “Is Algernon behind this?” “No. Actually, Ray seems to be pursuing this venture on his own. I was hired by the Center to do clerical work at the Reno office. I planned to transfer to the retreat center in Indiana as soon as I could to get a closer look at the operation.” Mira shifted her other leg onto the bed and sat cross-legged like Ian. He could smell her flowery scent drifting over to him. He wished they could be curled up in bed together again with a lot less talking going on and Justin Foster out of the room. She touched Ian’s knee, caught his eye and smiled, almost as if responding to his thought. Hm. Interesting. “Yesterday I was sent to Ray with some files he’d requested,” Mira said. “In the hall outside his office Algernon and his bodyguards had just arrived and were about to enter. Algernon is rumored to have a heightened awareness of other Terrans nearby, but I’d taken the precaution of having the KOTE mages cast a cloaking spell on me before going into the assignment. He didn’t sense me.” Foster set the box on the nightstand and leaned forward, arms resting on knees as he listened to her story. The two Terrans’ gazes locked together as if more communication was passing between them than mere words. Ian felt superfluous. He frowned and pulled another couple of inches of elastic thread out of the bedspread. “After the men entered the office, I listened outside the door. Ray bragged about how

quickly the numbers were increasing in his organization and gave some financial figures. He told his father he could count on several million people.” “For what?” Ian asked, intrigued despite his feigned nonchalance. “He didn’t say before his father cut him off. Ray was clearly trying to impress him, but the poor loser never even got a ‘good job’ for his troubles. Instead, Algernon told his son he had a job for him to do. He wanted him to guard something until he asked for it. His exact words were ‘What’s inside this box will change the world and secure our ultimate power.’” Ian snorted. It was ludicrous, evil villains and superheroes. But he’d had a taste of Mira’s gift and Brody’s henchmen. The solid earth seemed to be shifting beneath his feet. He felt he might tumble headfirst into their crazy version of reality if he let himself. “I waited for Algernon and his men to leave then went to Ray’s office with the files. He hadn’t put the box in his wall safe yet. It was just sitting there on his desk. He talked to me for a moment, asked how I liked working for the Center then reached out to shake my hand and welcome me to the team.” Mira paused and frowned. “I don’t feel right about using mind control no matter what the case, but it seemed really necessary.” Foster nodded. “Sometimes the end can justify the means.” The ethics discussion made Ian roll his eyes. “I mentally suggested he needed to use the bathroom … immediately,” Mira confessed. “He said I was doing a great job and then suddenly grabbed his stomach and left the room. I took the box and walked out.” Ian laughed at her display of guts. “How’d you get out of the building?” Captain America asked. “If you have Jedi mind powers, why couldn’t you lose the guys who were chasing you?” Ian interrupted. “I can only influence people or plant ideas in their minds when I’m physically touching them,” Mira explained. “I took the elevator to the lobby and went straight for the door and was almost out of the building when a guard called after me. Brody must have contacted security immediately.” Mira shifted, looking embarrassed. “I could’ve let the guard stop me, taken his hand and convinced him to let me go, but instead I panicked and ran. Without my purse, I had no keys or money, no way to make a phone call to KOTE or get home. Not that I could’ve gone to my apartment anyway. Brody’s men were on my heels. I ran into the park to get away from them and that’s when I met Ian.” She glanced at him with a smile and his heart gave a quick double knock. “We need to get this box to headquarters as soon as possible,” Foster said. “The Council will decide what to do with it.” Ian interrupted. “Look, this ‘save the world’ thing you’ve got going is really swell, but I’ve got a life, you know? I’ve got appointments. People to meet. Things to do.” Mira frowned. “We’ve already talked about this. Do you think it’s safe to go back to your apartment knowing what you know? You’re part of this now. There’s nothing that can be done about it.” “She’s right,” Foster agreed. “It’s best if you come with us. The Council will figure out how to help you.” “Well, they’re just fucking full of wisdom, aren’t they?” Ian was scared. He could see his future rapidly spinning out of his control. If there was one thing he hated, it was

losing control. He’d been powerless too many years and had arranged his life so he’d never have to feel like that again. Foster passed the box with its dark secret of world domination back to Mira. “We’d better get going.” Gun drawn, he went to the window and peered out before opening the door and checking again. He motioned the others to follow. Ian grabbed the coat they’d taken from the vajo’s car last night and slipped into it. He jammed his hands in the pockets and was thrilled to feel a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. As the Protector led them out to his Lexus, Ian felt like an elementary school kid being taken on an unwanted field trip. He looked across the parking lot at the barren land beyond and considered making a break for it. At least he’d be on his own again if he left these freaks behind. Then he glanced at Mira, sighed and climbed into the vehicle. Mira rode shotgun. Ian was relegated to the back. “Off to see the wizard,” he muttered to himself as he sprawled across the seat. He glanced up to catch Mira looking over her shoulder at him as she fastened her seat belt. She gave him a sunny smile that made his insides melt. I’m usually much more charming than this, he wanted to tell her. I’m not always a bad-tempered asshole. He managed a small smile at her before she faced forward again. Foster started the engine and they roared off toward the Emerald City. **** Mira held the box in her lap, tapping the lid with a fingernail. She wondered what object of power it could possible contain that was so important to Algernon Brody and why he would leave it in his son’s care when he could as easily have kept it safe in his fortified stronghold in New York? The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. “Do you think the mages will be able to open the box without destroying or releasing what’s inside?” she asked Justin. “Hard to say. Magic’s not my forté.” He glanced at the side mirror before guiding the Lexus into the left lane. “Nor mine,” Mira said. “At least, not binding spells and how to break them.” She heard a small scoffing noise from the back seat and glanced back at Ian. He was gazing out the window, shaking his head. She could hear his disbelief as clearly as if he’d voiced it. Wrapping his mind around the concept of magic was hard for someone so anchored in the physical. Yet, Ian showed flashes of extraordinary mental abilities himself. She wondered if he had some Terran blood in him. “Before this box issue came up, what were you able to find out about Brody’s organization?” Justin asked. “Not much. I hoped to learn more at the retreat center in Indianapolis. I’d secured a transfer.” Mira set the box on the seat beside her. It felt too heavy on her lap. “I know he has thousands of followers now. The files I dealt with were all dossiers of wealthy or influential people, some of whom have recently joined. Others were on a ‘wish list.’ There are plans to open centers in several other countries. I believe the retreat facilities are indoctrination centers for people once they’ve been hooked by Brody’s advertising campaign and public appearances.” Justin nodded. “So, how’s he planning to use these people?”

“Cash cow,” Ian said. “The man’s making money hand over fist. What other reason does he need?” Mira turned toward him. “For a Destroyer, wealth is only a means to an end. Power in all its forms is what they thrive on.” “World domination? This sounds more like a sci-fi movie all the time—or Austin Powers.” Ian looked away from her, out the window. The back of his hair stuck up from sleeping on it. Mira had a strong urge to brush her hand through the dark strands to make them lie flat. Actually, she had a strong urge to touch him everywhere. When she’d awakened that morning with his arm weighing heavily across her body, she’d nestled back against his sleeping form, pressing her rear into his bulging erection. With her eyes closed Mira had pretended to sleep while Ian fondled her breast and teased her nipple to hardness. She’d felt him looking at her, examining her face, and had suppressed a smile, but couldn’t suppress the soft moan of pleasure he’d elicited with his roaming hand. Still faking sleep, she’d wiggled her ass against his groin, earning a little gasp from Ian before Justin’s banging on the door interrupted their somnolent sex play. Mira turned away from gawking at the back of Ian’s head and faced forward again. She caught the Protector looking at her and nodded at him, before staring out the windshield at the early morning traffic streaming toward the California coast. “How much longer?” Justin glanced at his watch then back at her with his piercing blue eyes. “Another couple of hours.” They drove for about twenty minutes in complete silence. Mira switched on the radio to a news station to fill the quiet and at the first commercial break Raymond Brody’s smooth, lulling voice rolled through the vehicle. “Apathy and depression are chronic illnesses in our society today. With the constant barrage of negative news about war, crime, poverty, drug use and abuses of power is it any wonder we are a people in disconnect? There is an answer to your despair … and the answer is inside yourself. Let me help you find you.” The commercial went on to give the dates and locations of Brody’s next series of speaking engagements and invited people to send for more information from the Center for Human Wellbeing. “1-888-MYPEACE.” Ian let out a whoop of laughter. “Man, I love this guy. He cracks me up.” Mira couldn’t help smiling. His laughter was infectious. She wished she could hear more of it when the situation wasn’t so dire. “So,” Ian leaned up between the front seats, looking back and forth between Mira and Justin. “What do superheroes do when they’re not fighting evil? Got any hobbies or interests to share?” Mira laughed. Ian’s irreverence was a breath of fresh air. “Beading,” she admitted, touching her necklace. “I make jewelry—necklaces, earrings and bracelets—even some beaded rings.” She held out her hand to show her latest creation. Ian leaned over the seat and fingered the delicate fringe of beads at her neck, making her skin prickle, then took her hand and rolled the blue and white bead ring around her finger. “Nice. You sell these?” “Mostly give them as gifts to friends and family, but I do have an Internet site. If anybody ever googled and found me, they could buy from there.” Ian’s hand lingered on hers as he stroked more than the ring. His fingers slipped

seductively over the palm of her hand before he let it go. “Very nice.” He turned to the Protector. “What about you, Captain? What do you do when you’re not saving the world?” Justin grinned, turning his face from handsome to movie star gorgeous. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his even white teeth flashed. “Golf. I’m an avid golfer. Like to watch it. Love to play it.” “Relaxing,” Ian agreed. “A round of golf sounds like the perfect way to unwind after a day of killing bad guys.” “What about you?” Justin glanced at Ian. “How do you kick back after selling drugs to school kids and stealing old ladies’ purses?” “No rest for the wicked. I’m too busy to have a hobby, got all my evil schemes to keep track of.” Mira thought of Ian’s portfolio of drawings that displayed his tender side. She didn’t say anything, letting the men posture and dig at each other for the next few miles. She’d never met a man so full of self-loathing as Ian. She wished she could permanently siphon off the negativity from his weighed-down spirit, but knew it was impossible. Only Ian could release himself from the prison he’d created. A person was responsible for freeing his own soul from self-made chains of insecurity and doubt. She smiled at the irony that Ray Brody appeared to be telling that truth. “Hey, I know you guys have super stamina or whatever,” Ian said after a bit, “but us mere mortals have needs.” He gestured at the sign indicating a rest stop ahead. “How about breakfast and a bathroom break?” Justin sighed and looked at Mira. “When he starts in with ‘Are we there yet?’ can I put him out of the car?” He pulled off at the rest stop, checked to make sure they weren’t followed or walking into a trap, then allowed the others to leave the vehicle. “Make it quick.” Mira didn’t want to let the box out of her sight “Want me to take charge of that for you?” Justin asked. “Naw. That’s okay. I got it.” Mira tucked the box under her arm and went into the building. She used the restroom then stopped at the vending machines in the lobby to make her breakfast choice. She nuked the only vegetarian item she could find, a bean burrito, and bought a large bottle of orange juice. Justin stayed by her side like a well-trained Doberman. His eyes never stopped shifting restlessly, watching every person in the lobby. He escorted her outside, stepping through the doors first so he could check for danger. Leaning against the wall of the building, Ian had a burger in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He took a huge bite of the burger, jaws bulging as he chewed. He swallowed it then took a drag on the cigarette. “That is truly disgusting,” Mira said, grimacing. “I thought you’d given up smoking?” Ian frowned. “How did you know that? I never told you I smoked.” He crumpled up the fast food wrapper and tossed it toward the trash bin. When he missed, Justin stooped to pick up the ball and throw it away. Mira blushed, caught. “I… When I did your healing, it wasn’t like I read your mind or anything, but random flashes of your thoughts struck me. One thing I could see was that you really wanted a cigarette but had given them up.”

Ian tucked the cigarette between his lips and bent to pick up the cup of soda sitting on the ground at his feet. He seemed torn between keeping the cigarette in his mouth and sucking on the straw. For a moment, Mira thought he might try to do both at once. “What else did you just happen to pick up while you were rummaging around in my head?” Ian’s eyes narrowed. He blew a plume of smoke toward her. Mira remembered the barrage of thoughts when she’d entered Ian’s cluttered room. God she’s sexy. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that. I wonder if Haskell will get my money? Hope I didn’t hurt him too bad. I’ve gotta find a better way to make a living. Wonder how much Quinlan makes on the credit cards I bring him? Maybe I should be on that end of the deal? That was a great triple play tonight. Wish I could’ve stuck around for the rest of the game. “Nothing much,” Mira said. “I don’t look at peoples’ private thoughts. It’s rude and invasive.” “Look, we don’t have time for a cigarette break,” Justin interrupted. “We’ve got to get back on the road.” Ian pushed off the wall, tossing his barely smoked cigarette on the ground and grinding it under his heel. “Satisfied?” He raised a brow at Mira. She spread her hands. “Hey, it’s your vice. You decide whether you want to give it up.” “No. I’ll decide,” Justin said. “I don’t allow smoking in my car. Come on. Let’s go.” **** Ushered back into the vehicle, Ian again felt like a child forced to take a road trip with his parents. Foster was definitely a father figure, authoritative and overbearing. His air of natural command and clear expectation that they would both follow his orders pissed Ian off to no end. However, he didn’t see Mira as a mother. No, most definitely not, unless they had a really weird and unnatural relationship. He looked at the back of her head, admiring the thickness of the sheaf of black hair hanging down. She turned to ask Justin a question about a mutual acquaintance and Ian studied her profile. Her cheekbones were prominent and her nose wide above her full lips. God, those lips! He could imagine how pillow-soft they would feel yielding to his. Mira pushed a lock of hair impatiently back behind her ear and laughed at Foster’s comment about the mutual friend they were discussing. Her ear was small and close to her head. A gold ring curled around her lobe. Her black eyes sparkled and her teeth flashed against her brown skin when she laughed. Ian couldn’t take his eyes off her mobile, expressive face. How had the brainiacs at KOTE ever thought she’d make a good double agent? Her face was utterly guileless, every emotion passing across her features like shadows of clouds rolling over the ground. He usually hated people like that, the naïve, the unsophisticated, the foolish, the innocent. They needed to be slapped into awareness of life’s harsh realities just as he had been. They deserved whatever advantage a person like him took of them. Simpletons, easy marks, didn’t earn his pity. But Mira was different. She somehow managed to exude an air of ancient wisdom and a complete understanding of the way the world worked, yet still maintain peaceful composure and a sense of hopefulness. She was unlike anyone he’d ever encountered in his life. She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled.

Ian smiled back, a quick twist of his lips that he couldn’t suppress. Foster looked over at Mira just then and caught the exchange. He gave Ian a hard look before directing his attention to the road. Ian stared at the back of the man’s square head and linebacker shoulders. He hated the prick’s self-assured, superior attitude and wanted to goad him into a show of temper in front of Mira. But to push his buttons, he had to know Foster’s weaknesses. “So, Captain, what’s your story? Did you grow up burning to save the world or just kind of fall into it like a family business?” Foster cast him a glance in the rearview then ignored him. Ian tried another angle. “How bad would it be if Brody got hold of this box? Are we talking Armageddon? And why would Destroyers want to wreck the world? They have to live in it too.” “Destroyers delight in chaos,” Mira said. “And in the power of possession. When there’s war, famine, disease or cataclysmic events like tsunamis or floods, they feed off the negative energies.” “As well as turning a nice profit, I bet,” Ian said. “They sound like my kind of folks.” Foster made a sound in his throat, but still didn’t speak. This was no fun. Ian wanted to get him riled up. “So then the … Keepers, is it? … are supposed to keep the world and the elements in balance.” “Yes,” Mira said. “Well, damn! Ya’ll don’t do a very good job at it do you? There’s always some shit going down like you said, earthquakes, floods, drought. Aren’t you supposed to keep that under control?” “There are a lot of factors,” Justin said tightly. “Humans do plenty to upset the balances by their own actions. Wars and fighting can start a chain of negative reactions that culminate in natural disasters.” “Discord and disharmony are the root causes,” Mira agreed. “And the Destroyers do what they can to foster both. It’s part of my job as a Spirit Keeper to try to influence people and events in a positive way.” There was just no way to get these people stirred up. Ian cast around looking for a button to push. “Did you ever consider that your team might not be the right one? Maybe these guys you call Destroyers are in tune with the universe and you’re the ones trying to curb the natural flow of things.” Justin snorted. “I know you’re just trying to yank my chain, Black, but for the sake of argument I’ll play. Yeah, you’re right. The Destroyers have their part to play too— otherwise they wouldn’t exist. It takes both positive and negative forces to make a complete circle. Creation and destruction are both necessary. As a Protector, my function is to guard the Elemental Keepers. So that’s what I do.” He paused then added, “And yes, I do happen to believe the Keepers are on the side of good. You have to make a stand against creatures that threaten to destroy innocent lives and annihilate the world.” “Truth, justice and the American way. You could be the poster boy for the Marines,” Ian scoffed. “You gung ho types crack me up. Honor, duty, yadda, yadda. It’s all propaganda. The kind of stuff governments spout before they start dropping bombs on the other side.” Mira turned to Ian and skewered him with her gentle, demanding eyes once more. “There’s nothing you believe in? Nothing you think is important enough to sacrifice for?”

“Nope.” Foster looked over at Mira, his profile like a granite statue that Ian longed to punch. “Don’t bother. You can’t reach someone like him, even with all your psychic gifts. There’s nothing in there to touch.” “He’s right,” Ian agreed glibly. “I’m completely hollow. My head’s so empty you can hear the wind blowing through it.” He clapped his hand on the Protector’s solid shoulder. “On the other hand, Foster here is so full of pompous bullshit there’s no room to squeeze in another cliché.” The Protector shrugged Ian’s hand off his shoulder and turned his attention back to driving. There was a moment of silence during which Ian settled back into his seat before he started again, “You know, I knew this guy once, a lot like you, and he…” “Enough, Ian!” Mira said, quelling him with a look. “I know you’re bored and trying to amuse yourself, but … enough.” He shrugged and subsided into the deeply cushioned seat. “Could you put the radio on, please?” Without answering, Mira turned it on. The Bee Gee’s How Deep is Your Love oozed through the speakers like maple syrup. Ian waited for her to turn the channel, but she sat back in her seat and gazed out her window. “You’re kidding me, right?” Mira gave an audible sigh, but reached to tune in another channel. The thumping bass of rap boomed out of the speakers. “Thank you!” Ian said. A second later, Foster reached over and punched one of the pre-set buttons, returning the lush, flowing melody to the car. “I’m not going to listen to that crap for another two hours,” Ian said. “Plug your ears.” “Aw, come on,” Ian begged. “Mira!” “Does it really matter, Justin?” She turned the channel back to rap. “Yes.” He punched the button again. “Very petty for a super-hero,” Ian said. “A compromise?” Mira suggested. She leaned forward again and a moment later the Beatles’ were singing about strawberry fields. “There. Isn’t that better?” “Yeah, if you’re, like, fifty,” Ian said. “Turn it back to 50 Cent.” He was enjoying goading them, but suddenly the hair at the nape of his neck prickled and stood up. Something was wrong. Something was coming. He turned to look out the rear window. A dark SUV with opaque windows was close on their tail like a big, black shark ready to snap them up in one mindless gulp. “Uh, Captain? You might want to consider an evasive maneuver. There’s a vehicle coming up behind us that doesn’t look too friendly.” Ian glanced out the rear window again to see one vehicle turn into two. A second SUV pulled out from behind the first, moving into the passing lane beside them. The trucks were like a pair of relentless hounds chasing a fox. Foster suddenly braked and Ian jerked against his seatbelt. He faced forward to see the rear of a third SUV in the windshield. They were trapped on three sides by the moving cavalcade of big vehicles. The Lexus was low-slung, sleek and fast, but hemmed

in by the big Suburbans. There was no place to go except off the road. “For fuck’s sake, get around them.” Ian leaned forward and thumped the back of Justin’s seat. “There’s an opening.” Foster hit the gas, racing toward the small window of opportunity between the truck on the left and the one in front, but the vehicle in front quickly moved over, blocking them back in. The black Suburban in the left lane crept steadily closer to their side. Its tinted windows were ominous and the driver was clearly not going to stop until he’d forced them off the road. The shoulder was a narrow strip of gravel with a guardrail before a deep drop-off. The SUV behind them pressed their rear. Foster braked and it nudged their bumper, jolting the Lexus and sending it swaying back and forth before he regained control. “Justin, get off!” Mira pointed at an exit ramp coming up. The Suburban in front of them braked, trying to block them from reaching the off ramp. The Lexus swerved to miss it. Foster cranked the wheel to the right, shot through gravel on the shoulder of the road, scraped the guardrail with the side panel of the car and made it to the exit ramp. The Lexus flew around the curving strip of asphalt with two trucks on its tail. The lead SUV had missed the exit and was forced to continue down the highway. He bore down on the gas all the way around the loop. The tires squealed as the car hugged the curve. Ian felt the drag of gravity pulling him sideways. He looked out the back window. Amazingly, the two Suburbans were still keeping on their tail, but once the Lexus reached the road it should easily outrace the bigger vehicles on the straightaway. The road they pulled onto was old, uneven and marred by potholes. The Lexus lurched and bumped over the rough pavement. Ian’s teeth clicked together hard and Mira bounced in her seat as the tires hit the edge of a gap in the pavement. “Step on it, Grandpa!” he yelled, kicking the back of Foster’s seat in frustration. Coming up ahead was a stop sign, a small cluster of buildings beyond it including a gas station and a few stores. The Lexus flew through the stop sign and past the tiny enclave. A pedestrian stepping off the sidewalk to cross the street, jumped back. Ian glimpsed his shocked face as they shot past. Behind them the Suburbans were side by side, tearing up both lanes. Clearly their engines were modified for speed. On the far side of the tiny town was nothing but open road. Foster pressed the gas pedal literally to the floor and roared ahead for a couple of miles. The two trucks fell behind. The road curved suddenly to the left and the Lexus’ tires squealed again as they cornered the sharp curve. On one side of the road was the rise of a small hill, on the other, a steep drop-off to a leafy ravine. Ian held his breath as Justin guided the car around the winding downhill curves, faster and faster, first one way then the other. He looked back in time to see one of the SUVs miss a curve, crash through the metal guardrail and go flying down into the ravine. “Jesus!” he shouted. The other Suburban didn’t even brake but smoothly pulled in behind the Lexus and continued to give chase. Once more it was gaining on them. Time seemed fragmented and disjointed as a dream. Before Ian had a chance to process what happened, the Lexus hit a slick of gravel and mud, a runoff from the side of

the hill. It slewed back and forth across the road. Justin fought the wheel to keep the car on the road. The rear end fishtailed, scraping along the guardrail then there was the sound of grinding metal as the guardrail gave way. Ian felt the car tilt then fall. It seemed to happen in slow motion. He very calmly thought Oh shit! This is not good, as the Lexus rolled down the hill, shaking its occupants like a dog with a chew toy.

Chapter Five Mira woke to a dull throbbing in her head, a much more painful ache in her neck and a hand gripping her shoulder. “Hey. Are you okay?” She wanted to slip back into sleep and the voice was irritating. She tried to lift her hands to swat it away but something was holding them down. “She’s conscious,” the too-loud, irritating voice yelled near her ear. “Let me get her. Out of my way.” Another voice came from farther away. “I’ve got her. Back off,” the first voice snapped. Ian. She remembered Ian. Then she remembered everything and her eyes flew open. She was lying sideways, her face and chest full of airbag, her head resting against the door. The vehicle was on its side and Ian was crawling in from the driver’s side door. The airbag deflated with a hiss. Ian wrapped his arms around Mira, unfastened her belt then began to drag her from the vehicle. He grunted at the strain of tugging her body up and out. When he’d wrestled her head and arms through the door, Justin stepped in and helped. The two men pulled Mira out of the crashed vehicle and laid her on a thick carpet of leaves among the scraggly undergrowth of the woods. “Are you all right?” Justin knelt beside her, touching her hairline. When he brought his hand away, she was surprised to see it was bloody. She reached her own hand up to her temple and felt wetness there. Ian squatted by her other side. “Anything feel broken?” Mira shook her head then winced. “My neck’s sore but no, nothing broken. Where’s the Suburban?” He gestured at the steep embankment. “The one that crashed is back behind us that way. The other is up on the road.” Justin looked over his shoulder. “They’re probably climbing down here by now and there might be survivors in the other SUV, too.” “The box.” Mira suddenly remembered. “In the car.” Ian ripped a strip off the hem of his already torn T-shirt and leaned over to press it against her wound. “I’ll get it, then we’d better get moving if you can walk.” Justin pushed off the ground and stood up. Mira’s head swam and dark spots floated before her eyes. She was overwhelmed by the car chase and crash and the inexorable pursuit of Brody’s people. “How’d they find us?” “Told you that box has a tracking device on it.” Ian helped her sit up, still holding the makeshift bandage to her head. He peered into her eyes and his face seemed really huge. Mira blinked and tried to focus. “Then why didn’t they find us at the motel last night?” “It’s broken and only works part of the time?” Justin climbed out of the ruined Lexus with the box. “Or they figured we’d be heading to San Francisco and assumed we’d take this route. It’s not too hard to find someone on the interstate. We should’ve traveled back roads.”

Ian slipped his arm around Mira’s back and struggled to help her to her feet. She had no strength in her wobbly legs, and her neck hurt like crazy. Justin moved in on her other side, slung her arm around his neck and easily lifted her up. The two men supported her between them, guiding her stumbling feet over the uneven ground. After a few yards, Justin said, “This isn’t going to work. We’re moving too slow. Wait here. I’ll find out where Brody’s men are and take care of them so we aren’t attacked.” Mira was relieved when the men eased her back down to the ground. She squeezed her eyes closed against the pounding in her head and breathed deeply in and out to calm her fragmented nerves. “I’ll take the box.” Justin passed it to Mira then pulled his gun out of a holster beneath his jacket. “Need back-up, Superman?” Ian was on his knees beside Mira again. “No, just take care of her until I get back.” Foster pushed through the underbrush, heading toward the wall of the ravine and was soon lost from sight in the greenery. “My pleasure,” Ian called after him. Mira opened her eyes after her brief moment of meditation, feeling better, more centered. “Ian, if they catch us, they get the box. The most important thing is to keep it away from them. We should hide it here, lead them away from it and return for it later with more back-up.” “And if it does have a transmitter it’ll lead these guys right to it.” Mira pursed her lips, thinking. “No. I’m not sure how they found us, but I don’t think they’re following a transmitter.” She extended the box toward him. “Hide it. Bury it under the dead leaves behind that log over there.” She handed him the bloodied piece of his T-shirt from her temple. “Tie this around the branch so we can find it again.” He frowned doubtfully at the box and the rag. “You sure about this?” She nodded, grimacing at the shooting pain that went up her neck from the motion. “Yeah. It feels right. It’s what we’re supposed to do.” He shrugged. “Okay.” “Justin doesn’t need to know. That way if we’re caught and questioned there’s nothing for him to conceal. Besides, as a Protector he’ll think he’s strong enough to keep both us and the box safe, but I’d rather not take a chance. I want to go to KOTE first, then return for the box.” Ian nodded. “Your call.” He went over to the fallen tree branch and began digging in the leaves behind it. Mira closed her eyes and fingered the cut on her temple. Suddenly a pair of shots rang out, echoing sharply in the wooded valley. She jumped. Ian jerked around and stood up, scanning the hillside. “Maybe we should hide a little better than right out here in the open. Stay here. I’ll scout ahead for a place.” Before Mira could answer, he disappeared in the opposite direction from where Justin had gone. She grabbed hold of the tree trunk she was leaning against and started to pull herself to her feet, but a wave of dizziness overcame her and she stopped after she got to her knees. Sounds of snapping branches came from the other side of the Lexus. Mira froze, waiting to see whether Justin or one of Brody’s men would break through the bushes. Her

heart pounded. She felt powerless and ashamed of the fear that coursed through her. Justin’s head and shoulders broke through the tangle of forest growth near the crashed car. “It’s all right,” he called. “We’re safe for now.” Relief flowed through Mira. The knot of tension in her gut released. She sat back on her heels. “Where’s Black?” Foster rounded the crumpled fender of the car. Before Mira could answer, Ian, too, re-emerged from the woods with a rattle of branches. “What’s up?” Justin frowned. “I thought I told you to stay with Mira and protect her.” “I was finding a path out, besides I don’t really take orders well. That’s what got me kicked out of the Marines.” Foster gave a scoffing snort. “So, did you shoot the bad guys or what?” “I took care of them, but more will be coming. We need to keep moving.” Crouching by Mira’s side, Ian put an arm around her back. “You up for a hike?” “Guess I have to be.” Justin strode over and swooped Mira up in his arms. “I’ll carry her.” Mira felt like a doll, pressed against his chest, her legs draped over his arm. She caught a glimpse of Ian’s narrow-eyed scowl over Justin’s broad shoulder before the Protector charged into the underbrush, leading the way to safety. **** The Center for Human Wellbeing Retreat outside of Indianapolis Raymond Brody rubbed his eyes with one hand. They felt swollen and red. He’d better Visine the hell out of them before he faced his congregation today. He needed to exude healthy, joyous exuberance when he greeted the current retreat group. Newcomers to the facility were the lifeblood of the Center for Human Wellbeing—new money and new minds to mold. Ray’s magnetic personality was key. He had to make every appearance count. “You’re on in ten, boss.” The unexpected voice from the intercom made him jump. “Thanks, Janice.” He sighed and reached for the bottom drawer of his desk, pulled out his bottle and took a long drink. The chalky sweet taste of Pepto-Bismol coated his tongue and soothed his throat as it slithered down to his boiling stomach. It might take the edge off … a little. Ray’s hands shook as he screwed the cap back on the bottle. Damn, the bitch! How could he not have detected her as one of them? She must have been under some kind of cloaking spell. It was the only way a Keeper could have come so close to him without his senses raising the alarm. Recognizing other Terrans was a gift he’d inherited from his father. The box. Anger and fear raged through him, as the reality that it was missing crashed down on him yet again. He tried to imagine facing his father and explaining the loss. “I’m such a fuckup!” He rose abruptly, sending his chair rolling away from the desk; then swept his hand across the surface sending a stack of files flying, their pages fluttering to the floor. Photos of individuals of all ages, sexes and races, along with their financial and personal information lay scattered across the desk and floor. Ray leaned both hands on the desk and bowed his head. His father had entrusted him

with this huge responsibility—the only important thing he’d ever asked Ray to do for him—and he’d failed before the box had been in his hands for five minutes. No matter how hard he tried, he always screwed up. He wasn’t a man in his father’s eyes and never would be. “No!” Ray drew himself upright. “Not this time.” He walked over to the full-length mirror on the wall, straightened his tie and brushed creases out of his jacket. He stared at the tired eyes in his lined face. Perhaps he could pull off the image of the careworn leader facing insurmountable obstacles in a tragic world. Maybe it would be even more effective than the confident, benevolent father figure. He brushed back his hair with one hand and flashed a smile at his reflection, teeth gleaming in the dim light of the opulent office. “This time everything’s going to turn out right.” He pointed at himself in the mirror. “You will get the box back then you’ll keep it safe. You’ll present both the box and thousands of devoted followers to Father when he asks for them. You will be a success.”

Chapter Six Ian trudged behind Justin Foster wishing he had the super power of deadly laser eyes. He was pretty sure the hate waves he was beaming at the Protector could cleave him in two with just a little laser power. The man’s back and shoulders were so fucking broad, all Ian could see of Mira was her feet and calves on one side and a hank of glossy black hair tumbling down on the other. A branch snapped back as Foster passed, whipping toward Ian’s face. He ducked sideways and it stung the side of his jaw instead of blinding him. “Fucker,” he muttered low. He shifted his shoulders and felt the box resting at the small of his back inside the lining of the vajo’s coat. He hoped the hole he’d made up near the armpit didn’t split all the way down the seam and allow the box to fall out, but actually thought it was pretty safe. The coat provided a good traveling pouch with no one but Ian the wiser. He was sweating like hell in the damn thing, but that couldn’t be helped Ian wasn’t sure why he was convinced he needed to keep the box with him, but it had something to do with using it as a bargaining tool if it became necessary. A guy never knew what the day might bring and what tools he might need at his disposal. “So, where are we going, G.I. Joe? Do you have a plan or are we just wandering here?” Ian said to the Protector’s back. “It’s not safe to go up to the road or to that town we passed. I tried to call headquarters after I took care of Brody’s men, but my cell wouldn’t get service,” Foster said. “Do you have a phone?” Ian fished awkwardly in his pocket as he walked and pulled it out. “Battery’s dead.” Foster nodded. “Well, maybe there’s a house nearby where we can use the phone and Mira can rest.” “I’m all right, really. I could probably walk now.” Mira’s voice sounded drowsy and weak. Ian looked at her small feet. She wore low-heeled, conservative shoes—great for the office, bad for tramping through the wilderness. His gaze traveled up the curve of her ankle and calf and he wished he could draw her feet and legs. It wasn’t that he had a fetish. He just liked the petite delicacy of her limbs. He could picture the flowing lines they would make on paper. Foster stopped dead and Ian almost plowed into him. He knocked the Protector’s arm deliberately as he pushed past him to see what had caught his attention. A little way ahead, trees and bushes almost hid a small building. The boards of the place were weathered gray and blended in with the forest. It looked longsince abandoned. “No phones there,” Ian commented. “It looks deserted,” Foster agreed. “I’ll go check it out. Stay here.” He set Mira down on her feet. She swayed a little. Ian was quick to take her arm and steady her as Foster strode away. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “It was just a little knock on the head.” “You might have a concussion.”

“It’s mostly my neck.” She reached up and cupped the back of her neck. Ian moved her hand away and replaced it with his own, stroking his fingers up her vertebrae carefully as if he knew what he was checking for. He liked the feel of her warm neck under his hand. “Ow! Right there.” “Mm-hm.” She glanced sideways at him. “Hey, how come neither of you had any injuries?” “I did. I’m just not whining about them like some people.” Ian pointed to his arm. “It’s all bruised up from banging against the door.” Mira laughed. “You think I’m kidding? My arm’s in agony. Otherwise I’d be the one carrying you through the woods like Tarzan over there.” They both watched Foster a moment, threading his way stealthily through the trees to peer through the windows of the old building. After a moment, he raised a hand to signal them over. “Come on. I’ll help you hobble.” Ian slipped his arm, which really was sore, around Mira’s waist and guided her through the trees and snagging brambles. He liked the way her waist fit in the crook of his arm, would’ve like it even better if he wasn’t wearing the bulky coat and could feel her soft body pressed firmly against his. The building was a primitive square that must once have served as a hunting cabin. Inside were two sets of wooden bunks along either wall but no bedding. There was a Formica-topped table and several chairs with metal frames and cracked vinyl seats. The hearth of the small stone fireplace was filled with old ashes and a bird nest that had fallen from inside the chimney. Near the fireplace was a couch leaking stuffing from several rips in the upholstery. Ian walked Mira across the room to the decrepit couch. Despite her protests of feeling fine, she was leaning on him quite heavily. She took one look at the couch. “Oh no. I’m not sitting on that. There are probably mice living in it.” “Aren’t you one of those ‘love Mother Earth’ girls?” Ian said. “Thought you’d enjoy communing with wildlife.” “But not sleeping with them.” He snorted. “Sissy.” He kicked the couch to show her it was safe and a couple of mice scrambled out of the largest tear in the fabric and sprinted away. Mira shrieked and Ian jumped back. “Shh!” cautioned Foster, who was checking his cell to see if he had reception yet. “Keep it down.” Mira looked at Ian and grinned as if they were school kids being reprimanded by the teacher. He smiled back, unable to stop his lips from curving up whenever she looked at him like that. Her smile made his stomach feel warm and good, as if he’d just had a satisfying meal, which reminded him he was actually hungry again. Foster took off his jacket and placed it over the least ripped cushion of the sagging couch. “You can sit on this.” Ian wanted to offer Mira his coat, but couldn’t with the secret he had hidden in the lining. Instead he went to see if there was running water in the small kitchen. There

wasn’t, but he found some dusty bottles of water in one of the cupboards and carried them over to the others. Foster caught the bottle of water Ian tossed him. He handed one to Mira then straddled one of the kitchen chairs, twisting off the cap of his bottle and drinking half of it in a few swigs. Foster flipped his phone shut then walked around examining the room as if figuring out how to fortify the place against attack. “Whaddya think, Captain, are we safe?” “For now.” Foster dropped down on the other end of the couch with a sigh. He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Human after all, Ian thought, or at least kind of. “So tell me more about your, ah, species,” he said aloud. “Seems more like a cult than another race to me.” “Terrans may look human, but we are different,” Foster said. “Like how?” “Mostly special abilities,” Mira explained, her voice strained from pain and exhaustion. “Keepers of the four elements are different clans with unique abilities. My friend Cathie, for example, can control water and has a special affinity to all the creatures which live in it. A fire Keeper has power over flames and everything combustible, etcetera. As I told you, my family’s special ability is spirituality. We’re mostly concerned with healing psychic damage.” “There’s also longevity,” Foster said, leaning back against the mouse-couch. “We age differently than humans.” Ian crossed his arms on the back of the chair he was straddling and raised an eyebrow. “Really?” Foster fixed steely eyes on Ian. “How old do you think Mira is?” Ian felt like he’d been busted, like this guy knew he had a damn crush on the woman. “It’s rude to guess a lady’s age. Besides, if you get it wrong she’ll be pissed off.” “She looks like she’s in her mid-twenties, right?” Foster continued. Ian shrugged and looked at Mira. She frowned at Justin then turned to Ian, her expression blank. “I’m eighty-eight,” she said quietly. The little cabin was completely silent. Ian could hear mouse claws scrabbling in one of the walls. “Uh-huh,” he finally said. “No. Really,” she told him. “Our life span is longer than mortals and the aging process much slower. Toward the end of our lives we begin to ‘catch up’, but until then, there are a number of years when we don’t appear to age at all. We have to reinvent our identities periodically.” Ian was caught between complete disbelief and horror that he was hot for a woman old enough to be his grandma or even his great-grandma. “Huh,” he finally managed to say. “Like vampires.” “Without the blood.” Mira flashed him a smile. “Or, you know, being undead.” “Can you be killed like a normal person?” Ian looked at her bloody temple. “Do you heal extra fast?” “We get injured, catch diseases and die like humans, but our resistance is stronger and ability to heal faster.” Mira leaned forward. “We are the same, Ian. The differences are minimal—a few extra powers, that’s all.”

“That’s a lot,” Foster said. “Humans aren’t just weaker. They don’t think the way we do. It’s a mistake to believe we’re the same.” “No fraternizing with humans then,” Ian said, his unrealistic hope of the possibility of a slight chance of maybe hooking up with Mira vanishing with a sad pop. Not that he’d really thought anything was going to happen between them. “I’m really not up to debating human/Terran relations right now,” Mira said. “What are we going to do next?” “It’s only a matter of time before the police find the crash scene. They’ll be looking for survivors, which could be a problem for us. We don’t have time for questioning. And of course, there are the rest of Brody’s men. We didn’t exactly cover our trail through the woods.” Foster stood up and paced to the window. “We need to call KOTE, get a car, and get back on the road.” “I can get you wheels,” Ian said. “If you point me in the direction of town.” He pulled the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out. Foster shook his head. “No. I’ll go. I can move faster and deal with anything that might come up.” He didn’t add that he believed Ian might take off and never come back, but the idea hovered in the air between them. “Oh, right, ‘cause you’re the hero. I forgot,” Ian drawled, placing the unlit cigarette between his lips. “We’ll just wait right here then until you come fetch us.” Foster ignored him. “Mira, before I go is there anything else you can remember about Brody’s operation that might be useful? Anything you learned or suspect? What kind of control does he have over his followers? What’s the ratio of humans to Destroyers and do the humans understand who they’re working for or are they just temporary hires?” Mira shook her head. “There seemed to be more humans than Terrans working for him. I only sensed a few Destroyers. And despite his father’s talents, Ray doesn’t exhibit any special abilities beyond an innate magnetism that attracts people to him and makes them compliant to his will. Sorry, I can’t be more helpful. I just didn’t see anything worth telling. I wish I could’ve made that transfer to the retreat center and found out what he’s up to there.” Foster nodded. “All right then. I’ll get moving and be back as soon as I can. Are you going to be all right?” “Think we’ll manage. But you might want to leave us the gun in case.” It irritated the hell out of Ian that Foster directed most of his words to Mira as if Ian was beneath his notice. “I’m more likely to need the gun, but I have a taser you can use.” Foster fished the device from a rear pocket and handed it to Mira. “Keep the box safe at all costs.” “Uh, about that,” she said. “I’ve hidden it. In the woods. For now, with these men on our trail, I thought it would be safer.” “You what?” Foster’s face was so stunned it was all Ian could do to hold back a laugh. “We can come back later with more Protectors to guard the box and escort it to KOTE, but right now, I believe the safest place is where I’ve put it. We’ll keep leading Brody’s men farther away from it.” Foster’s mouth was a thin, straight line. “When were you going to tell me? Who authorized you to make this decision?” Barely contained fury boiled beneath his calm

voice. “I know it sounds crazy, but my instincts…” Mira trailed off under the strength of Foster’s glare. “I just know it’s the right thing to do.” Ian pulled the lighter from his pocket and lit his cigarette, taking a deep satisfying drag as he watched Foster and Mira face off. Foster nodded, his jaw bunched so tight he looked like he had the mumps. “All right. You’re the Keeper. I’ll have to trust your judgment. Can I ask where you’ve put it?” “In the woods near where we crashed. It’ll be fine until we come back for it.” Foster faced Ian. “And you know where it’s hidden?” Ian took the cigarette from his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke. He couldn’t suppress a grin. “I put it there.” “This doesn’t seem dangerous to you?” The Protector turned back toward Mira. “A criminal knowing the location of something so vital? This is a man with no conscience, who’ll do anything for money or self-protection. He can’t be trusted!” “He’s right, you know.” Ian shook his head. “You’re taking a big risk.” He said it as a joke, his tone mocking, but inside he knew he was telling the truth. Half the time, he didn’t know himself how far he’d go or how low he’d stoop in his own interests. Mira looked Ian square in the eye with a little half-smile playing around the edges of her lips. “I trust him.” His heart clenched and seemed to stop beating for a moment. Her eyes looked right into his, searing deep into his brain, and he wondered if she knew the box was pressed tight against his back right now. Her utter conviction that she could trust him made him feel… Hell, he didn’t even know what it made him feel. He’d never felt this way before. For a moment Justin Foster looked like a cartoon character about to spout steam from his ears. His face was red and his jaw clenched and released rhythmically. “Very well, Ms. Kashi. If that’s your call, I guess we’re stuck with it now.” He glared at Ian with fierce blue eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. Keep a lookout. If Brody’s men show up, find a hiding place and stay there.” Ian glanced around the shack. Oh yeah, there were a lot of hiding places here. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll find a house, call for backup and see if I can borrow a car.” “Yeah, I’m sure Farmer John will be happy to lend you his pickup if you promise to bring it right back,” Ian scoffed. Foster gave him a killing glare then turned and left the shack. “Do you have to bait him?” Mira asked. “He’s doing his best to help us.” Ian sucked in a lungful of smoke and let it go slowly. Without Foster there to bug, smoking didn’t bring him near the same pleasure, and Mira’s disapproving glance went a long way toward sucking the rest of the enjoyment out of it. He sighed and tossed the butt on the floor, grinding it out with his foot. “So, you’re eighty-eight? Looks sexy on you.” Mira smiled. “Thanks.” Ian rose and crossed the room to look out the window. Foster had already disappeared from sight and no one was sneaking up on them—yet. “Hey, don’t you have some kind of inner radar that can detect intruders? I don’t feel very comfortable sitting here not being able to see what’s coming. Especially when all we got is the damn taser.” “Not really,” she said. “You’re the one that sensed Brody’s men last night before they attacked. Why don’t you see if you can run up an antenna?”

Ian turned away from the window and walked back toward Mira. “Naw. That only works sometimes. I get, I don’t know, flashes, I guess.” “I could work with you. I bet you could learn to enhance your natural abilities and use them at will.” Ian dropped down on the couch beside her. “I don’t believe in that stuff.” Mira laughed and slapped his leg. “How can you say you don’t believe in the abilities you possess?” She didn’t remove her hand after she’d smacked him. His dick stiffened in response to the warm weight of her hand resting on his thigh. His face felt hot. He hoped to hell he wasn’t blushing. “Well, maybe I believe, a little. What would I have to do?” “Give me your hands like last night.” She held out her small, brown hands. The bead ring shone brightly in a shaft of light coming through the window. Ian was happy to take them. The day had been so full of drama he’d actually almost forgotten the amazing thing she’d done to his head the previous evening. He turned toward her and took her soft, warm hands in his. His stomach went weak and his cock harder than ever. Lust and longing surged through him. Mira’s hands weren’t nearly enough. He wanted to touch every bit of her skin, hold her body close, kiss her mouth and possess her very spirit. He’d never had such a strong reaction to a woman in his life. He thought he might be going a little insane and prayed she couldn’t read his chaotic feelings. If she did, Mira politely hid any reaction. “All right. Now this time I’m not going to reach into your mind. You’re going to try to find mine. I want you to breathe slowly in and out. Calm your breathing, open your inner eye and see what you can see.” Ian tried to relax and obey, but her touch was driving him crazy. After several quiet minutes of handholding, all he could see in his mind’s eye was Mira naked and writhing on a bed. The bed had red satin sheets and her brown body looked like a chocolate displayed for him to taste. Her mouth was open. She gasped and panted through magenta lips. Arousing little murmurs and moans rose from her throat. Her eyes were closed, thick, curling, black lashes lay in a fringe across each high-boned cheek. The diamond stud in her nostril winked and glittered. His hand was between her thighs, stimulating her clit, causing her to twist and moan. Ian felt the steamy heat and moisture of her plump pussy beneath his hand, the hard nub of her clit under his circling finger. In his vision, his gaze traveled from her face, down her arched neck to her heaving chest, to her breasts. They were round and full, their distended nipples thrust up toward him like a pair of dark berries. He had to have one in his mouth … right now. He leaned forward and sucked a burgundy bud into his mouth, rolled his tongue over its hardness while his hand clutched her soft breast. Her hand threaded through his hair as she held him to her. “Ahh, Ian.” Her voice was a throaty murmur. “Christ!” Ian’s eyes flew open. He pulled his hands from Mira’s grip. The vivid daydream or hallucination, whatever it was, had left him with a hard-on pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He was afraid Mira had caught the intensity of his desire, seen his erotic fantasy, but when her dark eyes opened to focus on him, there was no sign of it. “What is it? What did you see?”

“Nothing! I didn’t see … I wasn’t doing anything.” He stood up and backed a step away from the couch. “Did it seem more real than a dream?” Her dark brows were drawn together. “You might have pre-cognition, a vision of something yet to be.” “Yeah. Whatever. Maybe. Uh, I’ve got to take a leak.” Ian tripped on a warped floorboard as he rapidly crossed the room to the door. Outside, he scanned the forest around the cabin. It was still quiet except for birds. He leaned his back against the building, breathing heavily. For a moment he considered taking his cock out and finishing off what the damn vision had started. Mira was right. It had been much more real than a dream. He’d felt everything like it was happening in reality. What the hell did it mean? Was he actually going to throw down with Mira sometime in the future? God, he hoped so, although he couldn’t imagine a circumstance that would bring it about. He blew out a breath and fumbled in his pocket for the last of the cigarettes to take the edge off his nerves. He drew the pack out, looked at it then put it back in the coat pocket. Maybe later. Right now he wanted to get back inside and spend what time he could with Mira before Captain America came back. If he was lucky, maybe he’d manage to steal a kiss or two. It couldn’t hurt to try. On the other hand, if he had an ounce of brains left that weren’t connected to his cock, he should go find the men pursuing them and give them the damn box. It would keep Mira safe. Hell, it would keep himself safe. He might even come out financially ahead of the game, if he could figure out a way to make Brody pay for the box. Ian’s mind seethed with conflicting desires. All he wanted was to look after himself like he’d always done, but now Mira was in the way—blocking his natural instinct for self-preservation and making him want to do stupid, unselfish things. For the first time in years, he found himself considering the right course of action. It made his head hurt and the conclusion he drew went against all that was sensible. He had to stick with Mira and get the box back to KOTE. He couldn’t give it to the bad guys even if it would be the easy thing to do. The fate of the world might very well rest in Ian’s incompetent hands at this moment. He glanced down at his hand still cupping his erection through the denim of his jeans and laughed at the irony.

Chapter Seven Mira sat on the couch, a little dazed by Ian’s abrupt exit. She wondered what he had seen to scare him so badly. Was it a horrible future world brought about by Brody’s box? What could the damn thing possibly contain? She almost wished she hadn’t left it in the woods, maybe Justin was right and it was a really stupid idea. It was too late to go back for it now, though. She rubbed the back of her sore neck. At least the pain in her head had subsided. If she could relax, take a step back and let the chi flow instead of blocking it by worrying about things beyond her control, her neck would heal quickly too. Mira took a few cleansing breaths and turned her mind inward, guiding her energy flow up her spine. Almost immediately, the strain in her damaged neck began to ease. She chanted silently and breathed slowly until the pain had completely dissipated and she felt calmer than she had all day. Sort of calm. Calm but itchy. Not in an “I’m afraid bad guys are going to find and kill me” kind of way, more of an “Ian is getting under my skin” way. She was aware of him outdoors, probably smoking another cigarette. Her hands still felt the imprint of his warm grip. Mira was ashamed to admit that her desire to help him learn to use his psychic abilities was also a pretext to touch him. She wanted to touch more than just his hands. She imagined how his wiry body with its taut, sinewy muscles would feel beneath her palms. Energy practically sizzled off Ian in waves when he walked into a room. To have that energy at her command, wrapped around her body, invading her… Mira shivered at the thought. Her nipples peaked with arousal and her sex clenched and released. The peaceful state she’d achieved with her meditation was shot to hell. She gave up and allowed her mind to drift into a sexy daydream in which Ian had her bound hand and foot to a bed, his gleaming eyes in his sharp-featured face gazing down at her with desire. He crawled onto the bed between her spread legs, never taking his gaze from her face, and lowered his mouth to her crotch. Mira breathed in sharply when imaginary Ian touched the tip of his tongue to her clit. The door of the shack opened and closed with a bang, startling her from her daydream. She jerked her hand away from her crotch. Ian came back to the couch but sat a cushion distance away from her. “Sorry about that. Nature called.” “Did you have a vision? What did you see? Was it bad?” “No. Personal.” Ian shifted and looked away from her. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and Mira wondered why he didn’t take off his coat. It was a little too warm in the cabin to need it. “Tell me more about you.” He changed the subject. “You said Terrans live all around us. How big of a segment of the population are you?” “There aren’t many of us compared to the number of humans. Our history is vague, to say the least. We used to know more about ourselves as a race, but lost the knowledge over the centuries. We live in fragmented groups here and there across the world.

Sometimes it feels like my family alone accounts for about fifty percent of Terrans.” She laughed. “Big family?” “Yes. Even though my family has lived in the U.S. since I was small, when we go to India to visit we’re welcomed by a so many relatives, aunts, uncles and cousins, I can’t keep them all straight.” “All with superpowers?” “To different extents. Being a spiritual clan, some have chosen an ascetic life and never married so they can concentrate their energies purely on raising world consciousness through the power of their meditation. Those who are married have mostly joined with Keepers from water and earth clans. Some have married Protectors. Everyone has different abilities and different levels of development.” “But no humans in the mix.” He gave a one-sided smile and picked at a tuft of stuffing oozing from a hole in the couch. Mira knew the reason for his interest. Their attraction was clearly mutual. She couldn’t deny it, but should she encourage it? Justin was right. There were a lot of good reasons why humans and Terrans shouldn’t connect. “Very few.” Mira drew her legs up on the couch and turned to face Ian. “A couple of family members have chosen to bury their abilities and live as close to human lives as possible. That happens with some Terrans. The burden of being different is too great.” “Then not all of you are connected with this KOTE organization.” “No. Most have regular jobs in addition to whatever special tasks they perform for the greater good of the world. We aren’t controlled by KOTE. As a matter of fact, the organization as it is today is a fairly recent development. For many years, Terrans had lost touch with their true purpose in the world and had become self-centered and rootless. In the 80s a Protector named Donovan Callahan almost single-handedly resurrected KOTE, rousing our people from ennui and giving them a new sense of purpose.” She frowned. “Some would like to see Terrans become more organized. Personally, I have a problem with one central body governing everybody, especially when the clans are all so different.” She laughed and shrugged. “Actually, I guess I don’t do well with authority in general. At least that’s what my parents tell me.” “Oh yeah, you seem like a real rebel,” Ian teased. “The black sheep.” “I am the black sheep—at least at the moment. Right now my parents are annoyed with me because I’m not falling in line with their plans.” “And what are those?” She shook her head. “They’re so old-fashioned sometimes. They’re trying to push a marriage for me with some guy I’ve never met in India, a Protector from a respected earth clan.” “An arranged marriage—sounds medieval.” “It still happens a lot in India. It’s a cultural thing. But I’ve told my parents I’m having none of it. I’ll know who my life partner is when I meet him.” Mira was embarrassed by the turn of the conversation. She wondered if her attraction to Ian was apparent—and if it meant more than she was admitting to herself. She tossed up her hands. “Family. What are you gonna do? How about yours?” “Me?” Ian’s leg jiggled. He rubbed his palm with the thumb of his other hand. “Uh,

no. No family.” “None at all?” Mira couldn’t help prying. She had caught glimmers of Ian’s past while poking through his mind, but wanted hear it from him. She wanted to understand what made him tick, and maybe it would do him some good to talk about himself. He hesitated a moment, scrubbed at his palm a little harder, then said, “Well, there was my mom, but I think she’s probably dead by now.” “Can you tell me about her?” she asked gently. “She was an addict. My dad was whoever bought her a fix the day I was conceived. Sometimes she’d get clean for a while, but she always went back to it. Social Services put me in foster care when I was nine. I left the last home when I was fifteen. Been on my own ever since. That’s it.” He blurted his profile in a rush. “Fucking cliché, right?” “Not for you. Every story is different for the person living it.” He shrugged. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t excuse everything I’ve done since.” “No. It doesn’t.” Mira scooted closer, resting her hand on his arm. Impulsively she leaned in and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.” He looked at her sharply. “I don’t need your pity.” “Good, ‘cause I don’t pity you. I’m expressing sympathy. Totally different thing.” Ian’s lips lifted at the corners. “So that was a sympathy kiss? I’m not sure I’m getting the complete picture here. Why don’t you show me the difference?” Mira grinned. “All right. Here’s a pity kiss.” She leaned forward, took his head in both hands and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Gotta say, so far I’m liking pity better.” “Wait for it.” Mira angled her head and gave Ian a long, steady look. “This is sympathy.” She pressed her lips more firmly against his, letting the kiss linger for several warm moments before pulling away. She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Better?” His lips parted slightly. He nodded. “And this is complete empathy with your plight.” Once more she leaned in, opened her mouth and covered his. Her tongue darted out and teased his lips. Ian’s hand went around the back of her neck, holding her steady as his mouth yielded to hers. “Mm. Empathy’s good,” he mumbled into the kiss. Mira slipped her hands from the sides of his face to his neck. It was warm and strong and his pulse thudded beneath her palms. Ian’s other hand on her back pulled her closer. His tongue slid into her mouth, twisting sinuously with hers. She tasted a trace of nicotine, but was mostly just aware of the slickness of his tongue and the incredible heat and desire in his kiss. Waves of need pulsed from him and a vision arched from his mind to hers. She caught images of both of them naked, twined together and thrusting toward one another. Quick as heat lightning a series of erotic pictures strobed past her inner vision. Feeling things escalating quickly out of control, Mira pulled away with a gasp. “Whoa, that was inten…” His mouth covered hers again before she could finish speaking. He pulled her up against him, cupping the back of her thigh to draw her close, halfway onto his lap. Just do it. Might not get another chance. The fragment of his thought flashed through her mind. Mira closed her eyes and gave in to the aggressive strength of the kiss. She twined her arms around his neck and surrendered to his need and hers. It was heavenly. Ian’s hand slid higher on her thigh until he was gripping her ass. His mouth moved to

press kisses to her jaw, then her throat. Mira tilted her head back and moaned softly. The cabin door flew open, banging against the wall. Her eyes flew open and her head swiveled toward the sound. Two men stormed into the room, guns drawn. Mira pulled away from Ian’s embrace and scrambled to her feet. He jumped up, grabbing her arm to push her behind him. It was like a nightmare replay of the scene in his apartment the previous night—only this time their adversaries had come armed and ready. “Down on the floor. Now!” one of the men bellowed. “Down!” He crossed the small room and stopped directly in front of them, gun pointed. “Shoot and you’ll never find the box,” Ian blurted. At the same time, he lowered his head and charged the man, knocking his gun hand up while driving a shoulder into his belly. The man let out a grunt of expelled air as Ian pushed him backward with his tackle. His partner grabbed Ian by the back of his coat and sent him crashing to the floor. Ian’s head hit the leg of the table as he went down. Mira fumbled the taser out of her pocket, but it was too late to use it. The second man pointed his gun at her head and grabbed her wrist. He squeezed and twisted until she dropped the taser. He forced her to her knees then pulled her hands behind her back. Cold metal encircled her wrists and she heard the small click of handcuffs fastening. “Where’s the box?” “Hidden.” She could barely speak her throat was so dry. “Where?” He shook her shoulder then slapped her across the face. Mira’s head snapped to the side. Her cheek stung and a stab of pain went through her already injured neck. She clenched her teeth in preparation for another blow. “Where is it, bitch?” Another hit whipped her head the other way. “Save it.” The other man was handcuffing Ian and hauling him to his feet. “We’ll let Brody do the questioning. He wants the woman brought to him unharmed.” Ian looked at Mira. She frowned, letting him know he must keep silent, beaming the thought at him with all her might. Never tell. No matter what happens. Promise me! His head dipped slightly in acknowledgment before his captor turned him around and pushed him through the open door. Mira’s captor pulled her to her to her feet and grabbed her elbow, steering her after the others. Outdoors, the afternoon sunshine was warm, insects buzzed, birds called from the treetops, a breeze lifted her hair from her forehead. She was aware of her feet crunching through dead leaves and the pounding of her heart in her chest. How could she and Ian have been so careless, allowing themselves to be caught completely off-guard? The fate of the world rested in their hands and they were making out like a pair of teenagers instead of being vigilant. The men marched them through the woods in the direction of the road. Or at least Mira thought it was, she’d easily be lost if she was walking on her own. After about five minutes, she saw asphalt through the trees and heard the sound of a car passing. Branches whipped her face as her captor guided her carelessly through the woods.

Breaking through the underbrush, Mira saw one of the SUVs that had been chasing them earlier pulled off the side of the road. A third man was waiting beside it. “Did you get it?” he called as soon as he saw them. “No. They’ve hidden it.” Ian’s guard shoved him and he stumbled over a piece of deadwood on the ground. “Well, let’s see if we can beat some answers out of them.” The man by the Suburban started toward them. “No. We’ll take ‘em to Brody,” Mira’s captor repeated. “He wants the box and the Keeper too. Let him handle this.” The man waiting by the vehicle opened the rear door. Justin Foster lay trussed on the floor, a gag in his mouth. He gazed at Mira dully. The prisoners were bundled into the cargo area of the truck along with one of their captors and the door closed behind them. Mira lay with her cheek pressed to the carpet, heard the engine turn over and felt the vibrations shuddering through her body as the vehicle bumped over the rough ground and onto the road. Ian lay on his side, blood trickling from the wound on his head where it had hit the table. He glared at Justin. “You know for being a Protector, you’re not very good at it.” Mira smelled the sharp scent of antiseptic and felt something cold and wet on the side of her neck. She glanced at Brody’s man to see what he was doing to her then felt the sting of a needle as it drove into her neck.

Chapter Eight Ian woke with a hard hand shaking his shoulder and a hoarse voice saying, “Get up, asshole.” For a split second he was back in his mom’s house with Jack waking him. Jack had stuck around longer than most of her boyfriends. Many of his worst childhood memories revolved around the man’s violent hand and rough voice. He struggled to focus on the black blob in front of him, blinked to clear his eyes and saw it was the back of Mira’s head. A stocky man with gray hair was shaking Mira. “You have to wake up now.” Crawling onto his hands and knees, Ian rose unsteadily to his feet. They were no longer in the truck. He barely had time to glance around the enclosed space before his captor prodded him forward with a gun to the back. Airplane, he realized as he reached the open hatch and a set of steps leading to the ground. He stumbled on the stairs and almost fell. His captor grabbed his shoulder to keep him on his feet. Whatever drug they’d injected him with to knock him out for the trip was making him nauseous. He struggled to pull himself together. If there was a chance for escape, he had to be ready to grab it. He was aware of the box still in the lining of his coat, Mira walking down the steps behind him, another black Suburban waiting for them on the tarmac under the bright blue sky. There were no other people in sight. It must be a private airstrip. The flat land around them was probably Indiana and they must be on their way to Brody’s main headquarters. His legs were like jello as he crossed the black asphalt toward the SUV. Shoved roughly into the back of the vehicle, he discovered Foster lying on the floor, eyes closed. They must have really tranked the Protector to keep him under control. Ian decided to act weak, convincing their captors he wasn’t a threat to put them off their guard. He found he didn’t have to act. He did feel weak and groggy. Despite his attempts to stay alert and pay attention as to when the van turned right or left and how far they traveled, he fell back to sleep almost immediately and didn’t wake until someone shook him again. “Get up. We’re here.” Blinking, he looked at Mira, who lay nearby. Her thick hair straggled across her face. She couldn’t push it back with her hands cuffed behind her back. Her cheek had a bright red mark on it and her lip was swollen. He wanted to kill the guy who’d hurt her. His stomach lurched as he realized they were probably in for a lot more hitting and torture before this was over. If they were able to get out alive, they’d be lucky. Foster was awake, rising to his knees at the urging of one of their captors, a guy in a blue suit who looked as fresh-faced and earnest as a door-to-door missionary, except with a gun in his hand instead of a religious tract. “Should we gag the other two as well?” the young man asked. “I think they’ll keep quiet. Won’t you?” The barrel of a gun dug into the back of Ian’s neck. “Yes.” The three prisoners were taken from the van toward the service entrance at the back of a white building several stories tall. The asphalt drive led around to the front of the building, presumably to a parking lot and main entrance. The facility was fenced all

around and situated in the midst of trees and fields. There was highway traffic in the distance but otherwise the countryside around them was quiet and peaceful. A large dumpster was near the door to which they were led, and the smell of cooking indicated it was the kitchen area. Ian looked at Foster. If the Protector was going to make a move, it should be before they were driven into the building and their chances of escape diminished. But with his hands bound and a gun to his back, even Captain America couldn’t do a hell of a lot to save them. The exit door opened and a woman ushered them into the building. “Mr. Brody wants them taken down to the holding room. I’ll tell him you’ve arrived.” The guard pushed him forward again and Ian’s heart pounded. The fact they weren’t blindfolded let him know for sure they weren’t going to be allowed to leave this place, not that he’d really expected it. It didn’t matter much if he gave up the box or not now. There was no way out for any of them. They were hustled to a large service elevator near the kitchen. The mundane sounds of clattering pans and voices drifted out from the kitchen, but once the elevator doors slid closed there was complete silence. Ian slid another glance at Foster. The Protector still wore a gag and manacles connected his feet and hands. Brody’s people were taking no chances with his superior strength. Foster didn’t return Ian’s look, instead glaring a hole through the elevator doors. Fresh out of ideas to get them out of this predicament, Ian hoped the superhero had some kind of plan. In the basement, a long, barren corridor lit by cold fluorescent lights stretched away from the elevator in both directions. The electrical hum and mechanical clanking of furnace, water heater, plumbing, and laundry machines were the only sounds disturbing the subterranean stillness. When the prisoners were taken to a room at the end of the hall and locked inside, even those minimal noises disappeared. Soundproof so we can scream all we want, Ian thought, Great! The man in the blue suit manacled Foster to the wall then removed his gag. Mira and Ian were each placed on a metal folding chair. “The Keeper has psi powers. Touch her as little as possible.” The stocky gray-haired man appeared to be in charge. The guard, who’d accompanied them from California, snorted. “I think she would have used it on me by now if she could have, Mr. Murav. I’ve got it under control.” “You managed really well in California,” Murav snapped. “You can go now. I’ll call you if Mr. Brody has any more questions for you.” Ian wondered if there was any leverage there, any way to play these guys against each other. The guard from California stalked out of the room, leaving them with Murav and Mr. Suit. Murav had a long, walrus moustache and a droopy expression which reminded Ian of a sad hound dog until the man turned his cold, reptilian gaze on him and walked toward him. “Last chance. If you want to get through this with a minimal amount of pain, you’ll tell me where the box is.” He’s scared. Doesn’t want to face Brody with failure on his hands. “Sorry. Can’t help you. It’s a secret.” Ian wanted to deliver a clever quip like in the movies, but he was

close to wetting himself with fear and nothing smart-ass occurred to him at the moment. Murav leaned down, rested a hand on the side of Ian’s neck and nestled his thumb in the hollow of his throat, caressing the pulse point. His cold blue eyes under bushy eyebrows bored into his. “You could come out of this ahead, Mr. Black. You seem like a smart guy who knows how to turn a profit and make life work to his advantage.” He applied pressure with his thumb, deeper and deeper into Ian’s throat, gagging him. “I don’t think it’ll take much encouragement for you to do the right thing.” His neck muscles tensed in an attempt to repel the killing grip. He tried to pull his throat away from the punishing fingers. His hands fought the handcuffs binding them behind his back. His one imperative was to free his neck from the man’s stranglehold. A black haze floated in front of his eyes, obscuring Murav’s face. Suddenly he let go. Ian drew in a deep, ragged breath of the stale air in the enclosed room. His vision cleared enough that he could see his persecutor’s calculating frown. Murav leaned close and whispered in his ear. “It doesn’t have to be so hard. Make it easy for yourself and for me, eh?” Ian smelled nicotine on the man’s breath and suddenly craved a smoke with every fiber of his being. If he didn’t have something to calm his nerves soon, he really would piss himself. The door opened, preventing any further questioning. Raymond Brody entered the room. He looked shorter in person than Ian had expected from seeing his commercials, but the rich tenor of his voice and the paternal smile were the same. “Good afternoon, Ms. Kashi. I believe you have something of mine.” Still gasping air through his bruised windpipe, Ian felt a new wave of fear lance through him. Here we go. He noted Mira’s clenched jaw and impassive gaze and felt real terror on her behalf. The woman wouldn’t give in no matter what, but even if she wanted to she couldn’t tell Brody where the box was. The whole game rested on Ian. He had to play this out carefully if he was going to save her. Unfortunately, his pulse was pounding so hard he couldn’t think straight. Mira maintained silence, staring Brody right in the eye. He sighed, looking from one prisoner to the next. “So, we’re going to play it like this, are we? Well, I know he’s not going to tell me what I want to know.” Brody’s gaze rested on Foster a moment before sliding back to Mira. “And you seem to be a pretty stubborn young woman, but our human friend here,” he turned toward Ian, “might see the wisdom of returning my property.” Brody glanced at Murav and nodded once. Ian steeled himself for the pain. Murav grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, turned him around and unlocked the handcuffs. “Take off your coat and shirt.” Ian wanted to take advantage of having his hands free to fight, but there wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do so he removed his coat, excruciatingly aware of the precious commodity in its lining. He slipped his T-shirt over his head and stood with his torso bared, feeling naked and vulnerable, which, he supposed, was the point. Murav cuffed his hands behind him once more. “Do you know where my box is, Mr. Black?” Brody said. “Perhaps we could strike a deal.” Murav pulled a lighter from his pocket, thumbed it to life and held it up for Ian to

observe the flame. “There’s no reason for you to suffer,” Brody continued. “I have no quarrel with you. Just tell me what I want and I’ll let you walk free.” Murav held the flame close … then closer to Ian’s chest just under his nipple. He clenched his teeth as warmth touched his skin and his light sprinkling of chest hair began to singe. His stomach twitched spasmodically. Sweat rose on his forehead and his eyes closed as the little flame burned his flesh. It hurt like a bitch. The guard moved the lighter across his torso, touching him randomly with the flame. “You know this is only a taste. It can get much worse. Pliers, tasers, knives, your choice.” A groan rose in Ian’s throat but stayed trapped behind his clenched teeth. Damned if he’d cry out like a girl in front of Foster. His eyes squeezed tight shut, but the smell of singed hair and burnt flesh wafted to his nose. Little burns peppered his chest and stomach as Murav’s torture went on. “You know I’ll have what I want in the end,” Brody’s voice interrupted Ian’s pain. “Why prolong your suffering?” Be strong. Don’t break. The loud message burst in Ian’s head as if Mira was shouting directly into his ear. His eyes flew open and he looked at her. Her face was set and grim. She stared back at him with intense concentration. He felt her pain at not being able to help him, her apology for putting him in this predicament. Murav flicked off the lighter and returned it to his pocket. Evidently deciding to go the old-fashioned approach, he grabbed Ian by the hair and plowed a fist into his jaw. His head snapped to the side and pain blossomed through his face. He had a fraction of a second to draw breath before the man hit him again. “I’m running short of time and patience.” Brody tapped his watch. “I have an appearance to make and I’d like this cleared up first.” “Working on it, boss.” Murav grunted as he drove a punch into Ian’s gut. There was a sort of pattern to it, Ian decided after a few seconds, head, stomach, head, head, stomach. Then Murav threw him off by adding a knee to the groin. “Fuck!” Ian cried out. He doubled over and fell to his knees, wheezing for breath, blinded by pain. Murav leaned down, twisted a handful of Ian’s hair again, and muttered, “Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. Maybe I’d get better results by working over the Keeper, eh? You want that?” No! A primitive howl rose inside Ian. The prime imperative to protect Mira from harm swelled in him. “Murav, hold off.” Brody held up a hand. “Help Mr. Black back into his seat.” Breathing heavily from his workout, Murav did as he was bid. With his eyes cast down, Ian could only see Brody’s legs approaching him. The charcoal gray pants and black dress shoes stopped several feet in front of him then Brody crouched down to look up into Ian’s face. “Now you have an idea of what will happen if you don’t comply with my wishes. On the other hand, I want you to know what you could earn if you choose to work with me.” Brody’s voice was almost magical, soothing and trustworthy, warm and comforting. “I could pay you well for giving me the box and then release you, but I have something even better in mind. You seem like a clever, quick-witted fellow, the kind of man I could use on my team. If you prove your loyalty to me, I would reward you with my trust and a high position in my organization.” Ian breathed slowly, waiting for the ache in his balls to die away and the black

specks in his vision to clear. “Think of it, Mr. Black. No more nickel and dime cons and hustles. I have the power to make you a person to be reckoned with. I have the power to give you … well,” Brody chuckled, “power. And respect.” Ian drew a shaky breath. Quick-witted. Yeah, that was him. He always managed to end up on top. Nobody could keep Ian Black down. Brody laid a hand on his knee. “Will you think about it?” He smiled. “But don’t take too long or Mr. Murav will be forced to influence your decision.” He rose to his feet. Ian blew out his breath on a sigh. “All right.” Brody froze, surprised at his easy capitulation. “Pardon me?” Ian lifted his chin and looked up. “I said, all right. I’ll tell you where the box is and you decide what the information is worth to you.” A bright smile spread across Brody’s face. “Excellent. Trust me, you won’t regret your choice. You could very well end up my right-hand man.” Ian looked past Brody to Justin Foster, still bound in the corner. Foster’s eyes were closed, a frown creased his forehead and he shook his head slightly. Then his gaze slid to Mira. He could only meet her wide, horrified eyes for a moment before he had to look away. His heart ached at the shock and betrayal he saw there.

Chapter Nine “Welcome!” Ray spread his arms wide in an inclusive gesture. He gazed around the auditorium, making eye contact with a select few, but beaming his warm smile on everyone. “I’m pleased to see so many of you here today. This retreat is all about you, empowering you, giving you a new view of life and casting away all the negative energies that have been holding you back. “In today’s fast-paced, competitive environment, it’s easy to lose sight of what’s important; family, friendship, peace of mind. The Center for Human Wellbeing is a place where you can reflect, review your life and move forward with a renewed sense of strength and purpose.” Ray spun his message of hope like a golden net cast over the crowd, drawing them to him. The spiel was second nature to him now. He almost got carried away by his own powerful rhetoric and extravagant promises. He gazed with empathetic affection at several key people in the audience: a woman who was a cosmetics mogul, a businessman with numerous offshore accounts, and the middle-eastern prince of an oil rich kingdom. Ray wanted to win the hearts and minds of every member of the audience, but it didn’t hurt to give the wealthy ones extra attention. “The so-called natural disasters that plague our world today have their root in mankind’s own negative actions. There are implications in everything we do and the law of cause and effect is reflected in the physical world around us. What we do is intrinsically tied to nature.” Ray liked to toss in a little bit of every kind of philosophy he’d read. His path was all-inclusive and targeted at every cultural, sexual and economic demographic. He was an egalitarian when it came to winning followers. As he spoke, Ray thought about his men retrieving his father’s box from its hiding place in the woods. Perhaps he might even keep his promise to Black and bring him onboard. Sometimes a grateful man could be incredibly loyal even if that loyalty had been bought. Black seemed smart and desperate for power and respect. Brody understood that hunger. “In these next few days we spend together here at the Center, you will learn practical methods for bringing peace to yourself and to the world around you. Only when we share a world of peace, health and prosperity will we find the joy we seek.” Ray wrapped up his speech, keeping it short today. He was impatient to leave the stage. He still had the meet-and-greet to get through before he could take a break and find out if his men in California had secured the box. He was surprised they hadn’t found it earlier when they searched the area. With Black’s further information the box should be on its way to Indiana within the hour. Ray raised his arms in a gesture of blessing over the crowd before exiting the stage to thunderous applause. Flanked by two aides, Ray left the auditorium and walked to the dining area where he would shake hands and schmooze with the guests for the next half hour or so. Walking swiftly down the hall, he checked his cell. There were no calls yet. Ray smoothed his hair and suit in the mirror of the restroom before stationing himself near the door of the dining hall to greet people as they entered. He turned to one

of his aides, a slick, young man with almost as much charm as Ray himself. “When Prince Hassid comes through I want you to distract everyone else and give me a solid five minutes to talk with him alone.” Ray didn’t want to appear to give some of his followers more attention than others, but clearly a crown prince and a retiree from Omaha didn’t merit the same amount of his time. “Ah, Ms. Clark,” he greeted a shapely middle-aged woman with pale blonde hair and bronzed skin. She owned the third-largest cosmetics company in the world, an empire built from scratch by sheer willpower. Ray admired that. “It’s so good to finally meet you in person.” “Mr. Brody, your talk was wonderful, absolutely inspirational.” She took his hand in both of hers. “It’s an honor to meet you. I didn’t realize what my life was lacking until I discovered your path. I had everything and yet I felt hollow and completely alone.” Tears shimmered in Cynthia Clark’s eyes. “Your message saved me.” “Not my message.” Ray squeezed her hand. He lifted his eyes up toward heaven and nodded. “I simply pass on what knowledge I’ve been given. The ultimate power of change is in you.” He tried that last line again in his head and liked the sound of it. He may have discovered a new slogan for promotional materials. The ultimate power of change is in you. Ms. Clark moved on and another body took her place. It never ceased to amaze Ray how easy this was. Spout some sincere platitudes with conviction and people flocked to you like sheep. They wanted to believe, to be saved and given a new and better life. And they would receive it—starting with their first meal here at the Center. The sedative Ray used was a formula invented by his pet scientist, Dr. Rivera. In just a couple of hours all the people now entering the dining hall would feel unaccountably sleepy and would decide to retire early. They would sleep long and deeply and have absolutely no memory of anyone entering their room and administering a tiny pinprick to the back of their necks. The microscopic implants injected beneath their skin were another of the brilliant Dr. Rivera’s creations. Thousands of people were now registered in the database and he could pinpoint the location of any one of them at a given moment with the simple click of a mouse. Currently the implant was merely a tracking device, but soon Rivera would perfect a more complex unit, which would allow Ray to control behavior remotely. The concept was staggering. Smiling, Ray shook the hands of a frail elderly couple, accepting their gratitude for his inspiration. He glanced down the line to see Prince Hassid approaching. No special provision had been made for his royalty. In democratic fashion, he was just another one of the crowd. His black hair was slicked back. He wore a sharp, navy suit with a flamboyant cravat instead of a tie. Eccentric was good. Ray could work with eccentric. His cell phone vibrated against his leg and he signaled his aide to greet for him and walked a few yards away to take the call. “Yes.” “I’m sorry, boss. We couldn’t find it. We found the log like he said, but we excavated the whole area and there wasn’t any box buried there. Either he’s lying or somebody moved it.” Ray’s stomach rolled over with a sickening lurch. He’d been so certain that this nightmare was almost over, that the box would be back in his hands today and Father never aware of the loss. “All right. Keep searching the area and the cabin too.” He closed

the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. For a second he thought he might faint as the buzz of the crowd grew louder and higher-pitched until it filled his head like a swarm of bees. He would torture his prisoners until they begged to tell him the truth and then he’d have them dismembered slowly, limb by limb. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and regained control over himself before turning to face the people with his smile firmly fixed in place. He was just in time to greet his most important guest. “Prince Hassid, so glad to have you here. I hope your retreat brings you the peace you’re looking for.” **** Mira shivered, freezing from sitting on the cold metal chair for several hours in the air-conditioned room. Her bare arms were goose-pimpled and the tiny hairs stood on end. With her hands still fastened behind her back she couldn’t rub them to take the chill away. Big baby. Mira chided herself for letting a little cold bother her when Ian had undergone torture. Yes, he’d cracked, but he had held out for as long as he could bear it. Poor Ian. Her expectations had been too high. He wasn’t as strong-willed as she had hoped. She should have listened to Justin when he reminded her of the kind of man Ian was. Once more she looked across at him, slouched in his chair. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. When she mentally broadcast her forgiveness of him, she met a wall of silence. He had shut down and was staring dead-eyed at the floor. Only one guard remained with them in the room, the young man in a suit who looked more like a political aide than a bodyguard. Mira glanced over at Justin, who was also slumped and staring at the floor. Although his gag had been removed when they got in the room, the Protector hadn’t said a word since. Mira returned her gaze to Ian, examining the burns and the red marks from punches to his face and stomach that would be bruises by tomorrow. He must be much colder than she was, sitting half naked in this chilly room. His vacant eyes stared at the discarded coat lying on the floor near his feet. Although she would rather not speak in front of the guard, she had to let him know she didn’t blame him for giving in, for being weak and human. “It’s all right.” She spoke softly, but her voice seemed to fill the quiet room. “I know you didn’t want to tell.” He glanced up at her then dropped his gaze again. “But he did.” Justin’s hard voice came from across the room. “It’s what you do, not what you wish you’d done that matters in the end.” Ian laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. Just then the door burst open and slammed against the wall so hard it bounced off it again. Mira jumped and her pulse raced. “Where is it?” Brody stormed into the room. “Where the hell is my goddamn box?” She caught a glimpse of his wild eyes before he attacked Ian, lifting him from the chair and throwing him up against the wall. The metal chair was crashed to the floor with a clang. Ian grunted as he hit the wall. Brody gripped his neck, choking him. “No more games. Tell me where it is right now or I’ll have you killed—all of you.” Ian’s face turned deep red as Brody’s hands gripped his throat tighter and tighter. “Give me my box and maybe, just maybe, you can still walk away from this.”

A guttural sound came from Ian’s mouth. Brody seemed to realize he was about to lose his most likely informer and released his grip. Ian slid down the wall until he’d regained his feet. He coughed and gasped for air. “Jesus, I wish you people would quit choking me!” He drew in a wheezing breath. “Yeah, I sent your men on a snipe hunt to buy some time.” “Time’s up, Mr. Black. Give me what I want!” Mira tried to make sense of what was happening. If he hadn’t buried the box, where had he hidden it? “Take off these fucking handcuffs and I’ll tell you my demands.” Ian pulled himself up almost straight and glared into Brody’s eyes. There was a long, pregnant pause then Brody burst out laughing. “You cocky son of a bitch!” “You want the box?” He continued to laugh a little crazily for a moment before stepping back. “All right. Murav, release him.” The man had followed Brody into the room, although a little less dramatically. He turned Ian around and unlocked the cuffs. Taking his hands from behind his back, he rubbed his wrists. “I’d like a bottle of water, too, please.” “Are you deliberately trying my patience? You know I could just as easily torture the information out of you.” “Yeah, and it’d probably be more fun for you, but it’d take a lot longer. And just so we’re clear, neither of them knows where the box is.” Ian nodded at Mira and Justin. “I took it and put it someplace safe in case we ended up in a situation like this.” “What did you hope to accomplish?” Brody folded his arms and stared at him with a mingled expression of irritation and amusement. “To save my ass and come out ahead.” Ian stooped, picked up his T-shirt and pulled it on. A hiss of pain escaped him as he lifted his arms over his head. He righted the fallen folding chair and sat down in it, legs sprawled wide. “This is what I want. You let those two go free. I want them out of here and dropped off in a public place. I want to see it happen on a remote camera. When I’m satisfied they’re safe, I’ll tell you where the box is.” Brody paced around Ian in a half circle, a puzzled frown on his face. “How does that help you?” “Because, after I tell you what you want to know, you’re going to let me go with five thousand dollars for trauma suffered. You’re going to do this instead of killing me because I’ll be working for you. Think about it, Mr. Brody, who would I go to about this? The police? The press? They’d think I’m crazy. I’m in no position to harm you in any way, but I can help you—as an independent contractor.” Brody stopped walking. “Your business is people, right? Building some kinda army or whatever it is you’re doing? I know a lot of people. I could turn business your way and if you find what I’m doing valuable, you’ll pay me more.” “Interesting, but criminals and drug addicts aren’t exactly the kind of followers I’m interested in.” “Every army needs cannon fodder.” Ian shrugged. “If you really have the power to

mold people, you can make some kind of use of them. Think how good it will make you look in the press, cleaning up the streets of all the lowlifes and thugs, turning their lives around and freeing up prison space. Fucking Saint Raymond Brody. People will worship you for it.” Brody tapped a finger against his lips. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t you give me the box and I’ll still make that deal with you? What do you care if these two are set free or not? Having a live Protector and Keeper in my possession is very useful to me. I don’t particularly want to let them go.” Ian stared up at Brody with one eye. The other was beginning to swell shut. “That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.” The Destroyer turned and looked at Mira. Her skin crawled as he looked her over. “It’s her, isn’t it? You have a crush on the Keeper. You want to be a hero and save her.” He turned back to Ian. “But she won’t thank you for it, not when you’ve let the ‘bad guys’ win.” “Don’t, Ian,” Mira said. “Don’t deal with him.” “See.” Brody smiled. “Maybe I should simply use the woman as leverage to make you give me the box. A little whipping, a little burning, a lot of nudity and bondage. Could be really hot, don’t you think?” Ian gazed at him impassively. “Do what you want, but I’m telling you your way’s gonna take longer and I don’t think time is something you want to waste.” Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Brody walked over to Mira. He stared at her a moment, reached out a finger and stroked her cheek then pulled away quickly as though remembering how she’d manipulated him last time he’d touched her. “The things a man’s cock makes him do.” He shook his head. “All right. I’ll free the Keeper and Protector.” He nodded at Murav and Mr. Suit. “Take them someplace in downtown Indianapolis and set them free.” “No, Ian,” Mira pleaded again. “Don’t do it. Don’t tell him.” “One more thing,” Ian cut across her pleas. “There is an end to my goodwill and you’ve about reached it,” Brody snapped. “What do you want now?” “One kiss before she goes.” Ian’s voice was low. Brody grimaced. “Oh, please, show some pride, man. She doesn’t like you. You’re not the hero of the piece. You’re embarrassing yourself.” “Please. It’s nothing to you, and it means … everything to me.” Brody shook his head, but signaled Murav to release Mira. “All right, have your Hollywood ending.” A moment later Mira felt the handcuffs drop away. She brought her aching arms around to the front of her body and rubbed her wrists. She stood and walked toward Ian. “I know you think you’re helping, but it’s not the right thing to do.” Ian crossed the room to her. He took hold of her upper arms, leaned in and kissed her. His lips were dry and cool against hers. “Sorry. This is all I could come up with,” he whispered, as he pulled away. His hands skated up and down her chilly arms. “God, you’re so cold.” He turned to Brody. “Can I give her my jacket? She’s cold.” “Why not. You seem to have gotten everything else you want.” “Well, actually, they never did bring my water.” A sardonic grin twisted his split lip. Brody laughed. “Balls. I like that.” Ian bent to pick up the jacket and helped Mira

into it. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her once more before moving away. “It’s been … interesting.” “That’s it?” Brody said. “Hardly Casablanca material.” Mira felt something hard bump against her back inside the jacket. She hadn’t thought her adrenalin level could rise any higher, but it managed to ratchet up another notch. She struggled not to show her discovery on her face as she looked into Ian’s eyes once more. He gazed back at her, poker-faced. “Well, that was almost touching. Move them along now,” Brody commanded his men. He called another couple of guards to escort Foster. Guns trained on the Protector, they unlocked the chain that bound his manacles to the wall and cautiously prodded him forward, out of the room. Mira’s mind raced at the implications of Ian’s actions. He was going to be killed when Brody found out he’d been betrayed. Her stomach clenched with fear for him, but there was nothing she could do. Getting the box safely away from Brody was the most important objective. Impulsively, she darted forward and threw her arms around Ian, hugging him tight. “Thank you.” Murav pulled her away from him, twisted her arms viciously behind her and fastening the handcuffs again. She thought the guard was disappointed at not having the opportunity to torture her, as he grabbed her upper arm and manhandled her out of the room. She craned her neck around to catch one last glimpse of Ian. His battered face was pale beneath his tousled black hair. He met her glance and winked.

Chapter Ten I am so fucked. Ian’s mind raced over his plan like a rat in a maze, looking for flaws. There were plenty of them. This lame scenario sucked big time. Mira and Foster might not even make it out of the building. Brody could be toying with him, pretending to agree to his demand. Or Murav might put his hand against Mira’s back and feel the box inside the coat. Ian couldn’t believe he’d gotten away with giving her the jacket. Even if everything worked and the others were released, he had little chance of getting out alive. He couldn’t play Brody any longer. The man was as volatile as a wolverine, his temporary mask of civility ready to slip and reveal the crazed killer inside. Before this was over, Ian was going to be in a world of hurt. It’d be worth it though. The betrayal and disbelief in Mira’s eyes when she thought he’d failed her was much more painful than a few burns and punches. Buying back her trust with the box, seeing faith rekindled in her dark eyes and hearing her heartfelt thanks was worth every damn thing they were probably going to do to him. “Well, Mr. Black,” Brody’s voice broke into his thoughts, making him jump. “I have to leave you for a while. I’ll have a monitor set up so you can see your friends safely out and when I come back, I expect you to keep your end of the bargain.” He nodded. Brody turned to leave. “Um, one more thing,” Ian said. “I need to use the facilities. Can your guy here take me?” Brody paused in the doorway, shaking his head. “Anything else you want? A spa and massage, maybe?” “No. Just a john will do.” He nodded at the guard. “Go ahead, Preston, but be careful. I think Mr. Black may be more clever than we gave him credit for.” “Preston,” Ian said, when he was left alone in the room with Mr. Suit, the Young Republican. “Is that a first or last name?” The guard ignored the question. “Come on.” He might look like a Boy Scout, but he didn’t sound too friendly. “Hands behind your back.” Ian complied and felt cold steel around his wrists again. “Were you going to hold my dick for me while I take a piss? ‘Cause I don’t think we know each other that well yet.” The frowning young man grabbed Ian’s arm and guided him through the door into the hallway. They walked down the corridor under the white glare of fluorescent lights past a number of doors. Preston stopped and opened a door marked with a blue sign indicating a unisex restroom. “Wheelchair accessible. Your boss is an equal opportunity employer,” Ian said as the guard unlocked the cuffs. “Does he pay well? What kind of benefits package do you have?” Preston shoved him between the shoulder blades into the room. “Just trying to lighten the mood,” Ian said as the door shut behind him. The small cubicle had no vent into the air duct system or window through which he might escape. He hadn’t expected it would. Setting the water running in the sink, he went

to the toilet, lifted the lid of the tank and unfastened the hook holding the ballcock in place. It only took him a few seconds to snap off the three-inch long metal pin from its plastic base. He thrust it down the front of his pants, nestling it alongside his dick. He hoped to hell it wouldn’t fall down the leg of his jeans. Then he zipped up his fly and lifted the chain in the tank by hand to flush the toilet. Ian looked around the restroom to see if there was anything else he could use. He took the toilet paper off the roll to see if there was a spring mechanism, but it was held in place by some kind of metal strips, impossible to break off. Preston knocked on the door. “Hurry up.” He quickly splashed water on his face and took a long drink from the running tap before opening the door. “This is a really nice work environment. You’re lucky. What do you do when you’re not guarding prisoners? How long have you been here?” “Long enough to know not to ask questions.” Preston gave up on the cuffs, prodding him along the hall with a pistol to the back. Ian considered playing sick, doubling over and wresting the gun from Preston’s hand, but he didn’t know if he could do it without getting shot. Besides, he couldn’t make any kind of move until he knew Mira was safe. Preston escorted him back to the cell and left him there alone. “I’ll be right outside.” The door locked behind the guard. He scanned the room for any way out, but again there were no ductwork vents or convenient ceiling tiles through which he might escape like in the movies. Taking a seat on his folding chair, his leg jiggled nervously as seconds ticked by. He thought wistfully of the last cigarette still in the coat pocket. This waiting was killing him—that and fear of more torture. He pictured Mira and Foster herded back into one of the trucks, driven through the gate of the retreat center and on the road to the city. By now they might be exiting the highway and driving toward the heart of Indianapolis. God, he wished he were with them. Uncounted minutes passed before there was a knock on the door and Preston let a tech guy into the room. The man barely glanced at Ian, opened a laptop and with a few clicks of the mouse brought up a live image onscreen. The handheld webcam bounced with the movements of the vehicle. Ian stared at the jumpy picture of Mira sitting on the floor of the van. Probably the last time I’ll see her. She looked into the camera just then and her dark eyes seemed to find him. Ian didn’t know if it was wishful thinking on his part, but he could swear he heard her thought beaming in his head again. Be strong. I believe in you. A moment later the van pulled to a halt. The guards unlocked Mira’s cuffs and someone on the outside opened the rear doors of the SUV. “Ah, just in time.” Brody’s unexpected voice startled Ian. He’d been so focused on the computer screen he hadn’t heard the man enter the room. He held his breath, praying Foster wouldn’t do something stupid to wreck this by giving his captors a karate chop when they let him loose. It sounded like something Captain America would do. But the moment of release was almost anticlimactic. With guns pointed at Mira’s head, there was little Foster could do when the manacles were taken off his feet and hands. The guards backed off, leaving Mira and Foster standing in an alley. The camera followed them as they walked up the alley to a sidewalk full of

pedestrians and stayed trained on them until they disappeared around the corner. The image bounced up and down as the cameraman climbed into the SUV again, then the doors closed and the camera was turned off. “Satisfied?” Brody said. “Yes.” Ian’s heart pounded as the moment of truth crashed upon him. He was truly alone in this now. There was no taking back what he’d done. All he could do was act out his plan and wish he hadn’t decided to play the hero. “Here’s the thing. I don’t exactly have access to the box anymore … but I can tell you what I did with the amulet that was inside it.” **** Justin stalked down the crowded sidewalk so fast Mira could barely keep up. “I can’t believe he cut a deal, the little weasel.” “To save our lives! But, he didn’t, Justin. Stop!” She grabbed his arm. “I’ve got the box. It’s in the lining of the coat.” “What?” “Feel.” Mira turned around. Justin’s hand moved down her back until it came to the rectangular bump. “I’ll be damned!” “Ian saved us and the box. We’ve got to do something. Brody will kill him.” She turned around to face him again. “We can’t let him be tortured to death!” Justin’s face was almost comically shocked. “Guess I underestimated him.” He drew a breath to refocus. “Okay, the prime imperative is still keeping the box safe and taking it to KOTE. Maybe then we can figure out some way to save Black.” Justin’s cell phone had been removed, but they’d left his wallet so he had some cash to place a call at a nearby pay phone. Mira stood outside the booth, scanning the sidewalk and street for pursuers. She racked her brain for a way to save Ian. Waiting for help from KOTE would take too long. “They’re sending reinforcements,” Justin said when he rejoined her. “We’re supposed to wait for them to get here.” “No. It’ll be too late. You take the box and get it to safety. I’m going back for Ian.” “What? It’s impossible, Mira! What could you possibly do to help him?” She slipped the heavy jacket off her shoulders and handed it to Justin, and shivered in Ian’s oversized T-shirt in the cool evening air. The sun had set quickly and it was almost full dark now. Streetlights and light from storefronts juxtaposed with deep shadows. Justin clutched the jacket in one hand. “I can’t let you do this. You’re safe and that’s what Ian wanted. As a Keeper, you’d be a valuable tool in Brody’s hands. You can’t risk being caught again.” “I won’t. Trust me. I have a plan. I don’t intend to be captured.” “Nobody ever does.” “Trust me.” **** “You did what?” Brody’s face was tomato-red and his jaw clenched and released

spasmodically. Ian hoped he’d have a stroke. “Calm down. Yes, KOTE has the box, but while they’re figuring out what to do with it and whether they should open it—cause they seem to think it’ll unleash evil on the world or something—you’ll have the important thing. The amulet. This will keep KOTE off your back for a while.” “My father didn’t give me an amulet to guard. He gave me a box. He’s going to want a box!” Brody’s voice rose. Ian heard the stark fear in it and realized his serious error. It wasn’t the contents of the box that mattered to Brody. He was afraid of his father. Dangling the carrot of an amulet wasn’t going to distract Brody from trying to regain the goddamn box. He’d thought it was clever to tell a partial truth. When lying, it was always better to tell as much of the truth as possible. And his story about confiscating an imaginary amulet during the course of the road trip would buy much needed time. Brody’s men were on the road back to the motel where Ian and Mira had stayed. By the time they’d driven there, searched the room for the amulet, maybe questioned the cleaning lady, Ian might have a chance to escape. “I’m sorry. It was a miscalculation,” Ian soothed. “I was trying to help you.” Brody put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it and shielding his eyes for a moment. When he looked up again, he appeared suddenly calm, which freaked Ian out even more. A man with such erratic mood swings might lash out and do something crazy at any moment. He’d had a lot of firsthand experience with that. “All right,” Brody said. “You screwed up, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that it was an honest mistake. If my men recover this amulet, I may reconsider whether or not I’m going to kill you.” “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” “Describe it to me again and tell me exactly where you put it.” Ian had spent plenty of time dreaming up a description. “It’s a big honking piece of bling, a sterling silver or maybe platinum chain and setting with some kind of big stone in the center. The stone is bluish-white, like an opal or something, I don’t know. It gave off a kind of electrical charge when I touched it. It’s not like I got a shock or anything, but I could feel a … force field, I guess you’d call it, surrounding it. Scared the crap out of me.” “And you were in room number 12?” “Yeah. When Kashi was sleeping, I worked on the box until I got it open then ripped up the edge of the carpet in a corner of the room and hid the amulet underneath. I knew I could come back and get it any time and figured that kind of leverage might come in useful later. Guess I was right.” “The Keeper never noticed the box was lighter or tried to open it?” Ian shook his head. “I got a chunk of asphalt from the parking lot and put it in place of the amulet before I locked the box back up. It has a really tricky little mechanism. Not easy to figure out unless you’re used to picking locks. Foster gave me a heart attack when he started examining the catch, but Kashi told him to leave it alone, that he didn’t know what he might be releasing and the mages at KOTE should have first crack at it.” Ian told his story with complete conviction. Timing, confidence and the ability to lie like a politician were critical to him getting out of this alive. He looked Brody square in the eye without blinking.

“I’ll find out if you’re telling me the truth soon enough. If you’re lying again, you’re going to beg to die before Murav is through with you.” “Why would I make up something this crazy? I could have just told you the box was somewhere in the woods.” “You already did,” Brody said dryly. “And I was lying, see. But now I’m telling you the truth. Believe me, I don’t want my legs broken or fingernails torn out. I wouldn’t yank your chain about this.” Brody’s cell phone went off. Ian’s stomach leaped to his mouth. How could they have gotten there so soon? “Yeah?” Brody answered the phone. “Uh-huh.” He glanced at Ian then walked out of the room to take the call, leaving him alone with Preston. “Is there always this much excitement around here or is it usually pretty boring for the security squad?” he baited the young guard. “It seems like you’ve got a plum assignment here, guarding my ass.” Preston stared at him, grimacing in distaste. “Mr. Black, you’re not as amusing as you think you are. Shut up.” “Hey, just making conversation.” A moment later Brody came back into the room. “I have things to attend to. You’ve already taken up far too much of my time. I’ll be back after I’ve received news from California.” Ian had been waiting for this moment, planning the right words and the supplicating tone. “I know I’ve been a lot of trouble, Mr. Brody, but, can I ask for one more thing? I’m exhausted. Could you lock me in a bedroom somewhere so I can get some sleep?” “No, Mr. Black. You wait right here.” Brody turned and left, taking Ian’s hope with him. The lock in this room was not the kind he could use his makeshift pick on. It required a key card. His slim hopes had been resting on the chance that another room might have a traditional lock or he’d be able to escape in transit to a different part of the facility. Instead he was stuck in the same tiny cell with no hope of rescue. He was royally fucked. **** With Justin’s credit card, Mira rented a car, a nondescript, dark-blue mid-size. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this. It’s crazy. Do you even have a plan?” Mira tossed the car keys on her palm. “I said trust me. I know I’m doing the right thing. I can feel it.” It was impossible to explain her deep conviction that she was following an almost fated course of action. “And so are you. Just keep the box safe. Don’t worry about me.” “Since they’re sending back-up, I guess they don’t trust me to get the job done.” Justin shook his head. “I’ve really screwed up. I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of protecting you.” Mira squeezed his arm. “Hey, even a Protector isn’t Superman. Sometimes things just don’t work out.” She looked out the dealership window at the darkening night. “I’ve got to go. In a couple of hours, if everything goes well, I’ll meet you at the bar by the payphone where you made the call.” As she walked toward the car, Justin’s voice stopped her. “Mira!”

She turned. His face was pale. Sharp lines grooved the sides of his tight-lipped mouth. “Be careful.” “I will.” **** Ian paced back and forth then round and round the room, frantic as a trapped rat while the minutes ticked past. He couldn’t think straight anymore. The burns and bruises on his body hurt like a sonofabitch, reminding him much harsher tortures were in store for him. He put a hand to his eye, fingering the swollen flesh around it. Okay. Focus. It’s not going to get any better than this. Work with what you’ve got. So what did he have? Free hands, a small metal pin, a door he couldn’t open and a guard sitting outside in the hall even if he could. Preston had chosen not to stay in the room listening to Ian’s stream of bullshit. He dropped down on a chair and put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. What would Foster do in this situation? Without manacles on his hands or feet, Captain America would be a force to be reckoned with. “Asshole would probably punch his way through the wall. Or clobber the next guard to come in the room.” He sat up. That was it, the slim chance of getting out. Ian was a pretty good fighter. He could handle Preston … maybe. He unsheathed the hooked piece of metal from inside his pants and hid it in his palm. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, he banged on the door. “Hey, Preston. Open up. I need to use the john again.” “No,” came the muffled answer. “Come on. I’ve got some kind of intestinal thing going on. Probably from nerves. If you want to deal with the result next time you come in here then go ahead and ignore me.” There was a long pause. “Stand back from the door. Put your hands behind your head.” Ian’s heart pounded. He breathed deeply again and blew it out slowly. He linked his hands behind his head. His palm was sweating and he was afraid the little piece of metal would slip. The idea of driving it into the guard’s body made his stomach turn. The door opened. Preston entered the room, gun drawn, but his eyes signaled he didn’t perceive Ian as a real threat. “All right, hands down, behind your back.” “Not the cuffs again. Come on, what do you think I’m going to do?” Preston moved up beside him, holstering his pistol, the handcuffs loosely held in his other hand. Suddenly Ian stomped on his foot with his heel and drove an elbow into his stomach. He spun around and jammed the base of his palm up into the guard’s nose. There was a crack of bone breaking and the sickening squelch of tissue rupturing. The man’s head snapped back. He howled in pain and swung his arm blindly. One end of the handcuffs hit Ian in the side of the jaw. He stumbled back a step. The guard shook his head and blood sprayed from his broken nose. He pulled the pistol from its holster. Ian surged forward with the strip of metal in his fist, aiming for the soft hollow of Preston’s throat. The flesh was tough but gave way under the force of Ian’s blow, the

sharp pin piercing it. Preston let out a gurgling sound as he gasped for air. He clutched at the metal impaled in his throat and stared at Ian with shocked eyes. For a second Ian couldn’t move, then he grabbed the guard’s gun and wrestled it from his grip. Struggling to breathe, Preston fell to his knees. His fumbling fingers pulled the shaft of metal from his neck and a geyser of blood spurted out, quickly soaking the white collar of his dress shirt. He clutched his neck, trying to stop the flow and slumped to the floor as he continued to bleed out. In moments, his face was pale and slack. A puddle of scarlet haloed his head. Ian had done a lot of bad things in his life, but he’d never killed anybody. For a moment, he simply stood over Preston, breathing heavily and staring down at the man’s still body and vacant eyes. There was blood everywhere. Bile rose in his throat. He swallowed it back down and shook himself. This was no time to fall apart. He took the thin metal shaft from Preston’s hand, wiped the blood off on his shirt and put it in his pocket. The pick might still come in handy. Gripping the gun tighter, he turned away from the dead man. At the door he peered cautiously into the hall. It was empty from end to end—a long, white tunnel in which Ian would be a clear target. He didn’t waste any more time, closing the door behind him and running in the direction of the elevator. Before he reached it, he passed a stairway, a better option. If he went in the elevator, he would be trapped. Anyone might be waiting for it on the next floor. Ian looked down at his blood-spattered clothes and hands. First he should wash off some of the blood so he could conceivably blend in with the other guests. He looked around and almost immediately found what he needed, a janitor's closet. Maybe God was done using him as a hockey puck for a while. He slipped inside, rinsed his face and hands at a sink and dried off. Another nugget of good fortune dropped into his lap. A blue coverall hung on a peg. He put it on over his own clothes. A cap to hide his face would have been welcome, but there wasn't one. Grabbing a broom to use as a prop or a weapon if necessary, he ventured into the corridor again. It was still eerily empty. Ian dashed for the stairway. The kitchen exit where they’d been brought into the building was only a flight above and a couple of turns away. Once outside, he could go around the front to the parking lot and boost a car. It sounded simple.

Chapter Eleven Having no idea where the Center for Wellbeing was located, Mira stopped at a gas station. The clerk bagged her pretzels and juice and gave directions to the retreat center. “Can’t miss it. There’s a big sign.” The young woman handed Mira the bag. “You’re so lucky. I’m saving up to go on a retreat. Every time I hear one of Mr. Brody’s commercials I get a chill. He’s really special. He knows stuff, ya know?” She leaned toward Mira and dropped her voice confidentially. “The minister at my church would say it was blasphemy, but I think Mr. Brody could even be, like, the second coming of Christ or something. Nobody said there had to be lightning bolts to announce Him. Look how Jesus walked among people the first time around, real low key—well, except for the miracles and such.” “That’s true,” Mira agreed, trying to sound impressed at the idea of Ray Brody being Jesus Christ reincarnate. “Can you imagine if this is the End Times and He’s chosen to appear right here in Indiana?” The clerk sounded excited at the prospect. “I’ve just got to go see him in person.” “Mr. Brody is quite a speaker,” Mira said. “But sometimes people aren’t what they represent themselves to be. I’m a journalist investigating Mr. Brody’s organization. There’ve been some serious accusations made about the Center for Human Wellbeing, and I want to find out the truth.” The clerk’s face went stony. “The press,” she sneered. “What’s the matter with you people? Always looking for dirt.” “Just searching for the truth.” She reached out and touched the girl’s hand resting on the counter. “Keeping an open mind is so important.” She concentrated on beaming that thought at the clerk, wondering if it wasn’t hypocritical to use mind power to try to free a person from Brody’s spell. The girl blinked and frowned as Mira took her hand away. She didn’t say anything more as Mira walked away. Outside, she breathed in a deep draught of exhaust-fumed air and got behind the wheel of the sedan. Her plan to rescue Ian was vague and ill-formed. All she knew was she had to get back to where he was being held as soon as possible. A tenuous psychic connection linked them and she could feel his panic and distress even at a distance. He needed her and she must go. **** Ian lay underneath the bed, pressed back against the wall, listening to the man snoring above him, a rattling, adenoidal wheeze that sometimes stopped completely. He held his own breath waiting for the loud, inevitable snort that jump-started the man’s respiration. He’d been lying on the dusty carpet beneath the bed for anywhere from three minutes to thirty; should have been counting the man’s breaths to measure the long night. He’d emerged from the stairwell to a busy hive of activity and shuffled down the hall, broom in hand, head down to hide his face. People came and went around him,

ignoring him completely. He’d almost made it to the kitchen exit when he saw a face he recognized. A couple of the guards walked toward him, talking to one another. One was the man who’d accompanied them from California. Ian ducked his head even lower, turned around and began sweeping back the other direction. Then he heard Murav’s voice behind him, calling out to the other men and the hair rose on the nape of his neck. A visceral twist of fear knotted his gut. He quickly entered the first door he came to, finding a hall that led away from the staff area toward the guest rooms. When he reached the wing full of bedrooms, Ian was surprised at how quiet and empty it was. Everyone must be at some spiritual seminar or pep rally. He glanced down at his janitor coverall. This might be a good time to switch to street clothes so he could blend in with the retreat guests. Not that it would be easy with his beat-up face. Ian tapped at one of the doors. “Housekeeping,” he called. There was no answer. He tried the door and found it locked then pulled the pick from his pocket and inserted it into the old-fashioned keyhole. With a few deft twists, he had the door open and stepped inside. His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room and he saw humped shapes under the covers in the twin beds. The sound of steady breathing came from one bed and snoring from the other. Shit! Ian backed out into the hall. “So I told her, no way, I’m not moving in with you…” Ian jumped as a door at the opposite end of the hall banged shut. Glancing down the hall, he saw two men approaching. He practically leaped into the room and closed the door behind him. Squatting down, he pressed his ear to it. “Are they finished in the south wing yet?” “Yeah, Baxter and his crew got through in record time.” “Damn, how do they do it so fast? We’re never gonna win the bonus at this rate. They must be cheating, only tagging half the marks or something.” “No way. The numbers would be off if they weren’t tagging everybody. It would show up on the tracking program when the guests didn’t match what’s on the computer. Brody’d have their asses on a platter.” The voices grew louder as their owners approached the room in which Ian was hiding. “You take the left side. I’ll do the right.” Doors open and closed and then there was silence in the hallway. What the hell kind of tagging were the men doing? He crouched by the door, listening to the silence in the hall and wondering if he should make a break for it, but a few moments later more doors opened and closed. The men seemed to be going room to room. Footsteps sounded in the hall again, drawing closer. Ian crawled across the floor and underneath the bed against the far wall. A couple of seconds later the door to the room opened and someone entered. The man crossed to one sleeper’s bed and did something. From under a curtain of blanket, Ian saw the man’s feet approach the bed. Dust tickled his nose. His eyes watered with the effort of suppressing a sneeze. He held his breath. Above him there was a rustling noise as covers were drawn away from the snoring retreat guest—sleeping too deeply for it to be natural. These people must be drugged.

There was a small clicking sound then the man moved away. He was almost out the door when his pager went off. “What the fuck? I’m working here,” he muttered. “Hey, Al, did you get a text message just now?” His buddy’s voice called from down the hall. “Yeah,” the man in the doorway answered. “What’s all this about?” “I heard about it earlier from Jennifer. Supposed to be a big secret, but apparently the security goons brought in three people who have some information Brody needs. Now it sounds like one of ‘em is loose.” “Well, shit! I didn’t sign up for this.” “I feel ya.” “So are we supposed to keep on tagging people, start looking for this guy, or both?” “I don’t know. I’m sure Murav will be all over it though, throwing his weight around, acting like it’s somehow our fault. He’s such an asshole.” The bedroom door closed and both voices became muffled, receding down the hall. Mother fucking, goddamn, shit! Fifteen minutes more and he could have made it out of the building. Now he had the whole staff looking for him. He was so royally screwed! And so Ian lay listening to the man snore above him as minutes ticked past and he remained frozen, unable to decide whether to make a run for it or keep hiding. Perhaps he could pass himself off as a retreat guest and walk right through the front doors if he hung out here until morning. The space underneath a bed had always been a friendly, safe den for him. It was an ingrained pattern for him to go to ground when threatened. At the moment he wanted to stay here forever … or at least as long as it took for Brody to forget he existed. Ian closed his eyes. Lulled by the man’s snores and the woman’s quieter breathing, he almost fell asleep. After a few seconds he jerked awake. Jesus, what was the matter with him? Lying here pretending the bad things would go away if he made himself invisible was not the way to get out of here alive. What would a real man do? A superhero like Justin Foster wouldn’t be cowering and hiding. Ian rolled out from under the bed and rose slowly, but neither the man nor woman stirred. He crept across the room to the closet and searched inside, fumbling in the dark until he’d located a shirt and suit. He shucked the coverall, tossed it under the bed and replaced it with the button-down Oxford over his own bloodstained T-shirt. After three failed attempts, he gave up trying to knot the tie. Ian had never had occasion to wear a tie in his entire life. The man’s pants were loose around his waist and too short on his long legs. He let them slide halfway down his hips, tucked in the shirt and covered the top of the pants by buttoning the suit jacket. His shoulders stretched the back of the jacket and the sleeves hung short, but it would do. The man’s dress shoes pinched his feet, but tennis shoes would be a dead giveaway. Ian ran his hand through his hair, hoping there were no bloodstains on his face, and walked to the door. He hesitated. Now what? They were searching for him out there. Probably everyone had been provided with his picture by now. Did he dare take a chance and try to pass as an employee? Bending his head, he closed his eyes and came as close to praying as a he ever did. Jesus, get me the fuck out of here and I promise I’ll never do bad shit again. He squared his shoulders and opened the door.

**** Mira pulled over to the side of the road. She’d gotten herself lost. After missing her exit, she’d tried to navigate the highway back to where she needed to be and instead ended up in the middle of the godforsaken cornfields. She had to hurry. Deep inside, she sensed Ian’s urgency. She had to get to him and for more reasons than simply saving his life. From her mental connection with him the previous night, she’d learned a fundamental truth about Ian. He believed himself worthless. No one had ever cared for him and he’d lived a throwaway life. It was up to her to show him he was worth coming back for, worth saving. He needed to know he mattered to someone even more than he needed to be rescued physically. Mira opened the glove compartment and thanked the Divine when she found a tattered Indiana road map. Turning on the overhead light, she unfolded the map and found her location. It wouldn’t be too difficult to get back on track. She put the car in gear and did a U-turn, heading back toward the city. **** “We’ve got to recapture him before morning. If the guests wake up and Black is still on the loose, it will be a disaster,” Ray said to Murav, standing by his side. He spoke into the microphone, broadcasting throughout the building. “This facility is not that big, people. Find him!” His voice echoed out of a nearby speaker, sounding confident and assertive instead of as panicked as he felt. That was good. “But, be careful.” Ray added a note of concern for his employees. “This man is dangerous.” He turned off the PA system. Ray’s stomach rolled and growled. He crunched down another pair of Rolaids and thought about all the blood that had come out of Preston. It was nauseating. How had he so underestimated Black? A ridiculous lowlife petty criminal had duped him, Raymond Brody, the master of manipulation. Murav cleared his throat. “Sir, now that we know Black invented the amulet, don’t you think more of our efforts should be concentrated on recapturing the Keeper and the box? There’s no way Black can get out of here without being caught. It’s just a matter of time before we find him. In my opinion, sir, he’s not the top priority.” Ray stared at Murav. “We don’t know there isn’t an amulet. Just because it’s not in the motel doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I have to know for sure. And we must apprehend him tonight before all these people regain consciousness.” “Yes, I realize that, sir. But the box…” “I’ll be the one to decide what the top priority is.” Ray heard his voice rising shrilly but was helpless to stop it. “I’ve got it under control. I’ve got everything under control.” He clamped his mouth shut and counted to ten, straightened his tie then rose from his desk. “I’ve got everything under control,” he repeated quietly. **** Ian walked down the hall, resisting the urge to scuttle along the wall or dart from one

doorway to the next. He must try to look as if he belonged there. Surely every member of the staff didn’t know each other by sight. He headed for the kitchen exit. No doubt there were security cams at every entrance to the building, but if any place was likely to be less guarded it might be this rear door. He rounded a corner. Coming toward him down the hall were a man and woman, deep in conversation. Ian kept walking, keeping the injured side of his face toward the wall. As they drew close, both glanced up. He nodded casually. “Hey. Any luck?” “No. This is such bullshit,” the guy said. “My shift was over half an hour ago.” Ian recognized his voice. It was the man who’d tagged the sleepers in the room where he’d hidden. “And no overtime. I hear ya.” Passing them, he forced his legs to stride steadily when they wanted to run. The woman’s voice whispered urgently behind him then the man’s raised voice said, “No way.” “Fuck!” He walked faster. “Hey, wait up.” Ian played deaf and sped up, turning another corner, the trace of cooking smells leading him toward the kitchen. There was the door. And there were two big goons guarding it. The woman shouted at the men guarding the exit to stop him. Running feet sounded in the hall behind him. Veering left, Ian opened a door into a short hall and raced down it to another set of doors. He slammed through into the quiet, dim dining hall. Round tables with white cloths were scattered like ghosts throughout the room. A dais at one end of the room held a podium. The tables were set for the morning’s breakfast. He grabbed a cutlery set, dove under a table, and huddled with his arms around his knees, clutching the pathetic fork and knife in his white-knuckled hand, waiting for his pursuers to enter the room. Seconds later the door pushed open. “…has to be in here. Check under all the tables. You two, guard the other doors,” a male voice commanded. “If we let him get past us, we’re dead, Ryan.” The woman’s legs and high-heeled feet were in Ian’s direct line of sight. “No one has to know we let him walk past,” the man muttered. “We’ll just say we spotted and chased him. Come on. Start looking.” The tablecloth swayed as the woman moved away. Ian gripped his cutlery tighter. The cloth twitched as the man lifted it and bent to look beneath the table. Like a snake striking, Ian lashed out, stabbing him in the shin with the sharp tines of the fork. The man yelled and grabbed his leg as he jumped back. Rolling past him, Ian scrambled to his feet and ran for the door from which he’d entered. He pelted back down the hall and burst through the door into the kitchen. The exit was now unguarded, the men having abandoned their post to pursue him. Ian shot a quick look around, unable to believe it could be so simple, and then he slammed through the door into the cold night air. He raced around the side of the building, heading for the visitor's parking lot where his ride awaited.

**** Mira’s heart beat faster as she turned onto the road leading to Brody’s facility. Her every instinct to flee danger kicked into high gear, and yet she drove right toward it. The car’s headlights splashed across the illuminated sign: Welcome to the Center for Human Wellbeing. In smaller script underneath were the words, Health, Healing, Happiness. “Horseshit.” Her mouth thinned to a straight line, disgusted at Brody’s manipulation of peoples’ basic desire to find contentment. As she approached the gate, she drew a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She stopped the car in front of the gatekeeper’s brightly lit glass cubicle and rolled down the window. “Good evening.” The guard’s smile was wide. “Welcome to the Center for Human Wellbeing. How can I help you?” “Hello. I’m here for the retreat. There was a delay in my flight and then I had a problem with the rental car company.” Mira didn’t have to work hard at sounding harassed and upset. “I can’t believe I missed the whole first day! I’ve been looking forward to this retreat for so long.” The man nodded, sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. We generally take latecomers to a special wing of the facility. You’ll go through a decompression process of sorts to ease you into the retreat experience.” “Ah, I see.” “Collectively, the group has begun to achieve a certain level of peace and introducing a newcomer, still uptight from the outside world, would disturb the harmony.” He pulled out his Palm Pilot. “Can I verify your registration Ms…” “Castle. Arlene Castle.” Mira reached her hand through the open window, praying the man would take it. His warm palm slid against hers. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Castle.” Mira gazed deep into his eyes, a pleasant smile stretching her lips. You will let me pass now. I belong here. You will not notify anyone of my arrival. When Mira used mental suggestion, it was usually as part of a psychic healing process, and she never did it without receiving her client’s consent first. Coercing people with her strong will went against everything she believed in, but tonight was no time to nitpick over ethics. With every fiber of her being she broadcast the message at the gatekeeper. His mouth went a little slack and his eyes glazed over then came back into focus. “All right then, Ms. Castle. You go ahead and park in the lot to your left. Enjoy your stay at the Center for Wellbeing.” “I will. Thank you.” The iron gate slid open soundlessly and Mira drove into the compound. **** “Four of you and you let him get away?” Murav snapped into his radio. “Well go after him. He’s probably headed for the gate, but you should split up. Check the rear of the building. I’ll meet Fredrickson out front.” Ray’s heart leaped. How was this possible? Ian Black was as slippery as an eel. “They think he went out the service door by the kitchen,” Murav said. “Garcia got

stabbed in the leg. The others are running around like incompetent boobs.” The two men walked quickly toward the reception foyer at the front of the building. Ray felt suddenly calm. “He’s a thief. He’ll look for a car he can hotwire. That means an older model, something he can break into without setting off an alarm. Something with easy access to the wiring.” Murav nodded. He spoke into his radio as they walked, alerting the team leaders to change the scope of their search. He spoke to the gatekeeper, telling Sheffield they would send extra men to help him guard the main entrance. “The only other way out is to climb the fence. My bet is he’ll try to crash the gate.” “Everyone understands he’s not to be killed, correct?” Ray verified. “Tell them they can shoot to maim, but not to kill. I want to question him again about this amulet.” “Yes, I believe the men understand, sir.” They strode through the foyer, a glass-domed structure that enclosed an indoor garden, a trickling fountain and wicker benches giving it a warm, welcoming air. They passed beneath the banner over the doors which read, “Peace, Joy, Serenity.” Murav pulled his gun from the holster underneath his suit jacket and thumbed off the safety. “When we find this man, I want you to make him suffer,” Ray said. “No problem, Mr. Brody.”

Chapter Twelve Ian raced along the perimeter of the building, eyes straining for darker shapes among the shadows that might be guards posted to keep watch for him. His blood sang through his veins with an adrenaline rush. Every nerve crackled with energy. He felt a hundred percent better outdoors. Even though he still had to get out of the compound, for the first time in hours he felt he might have a chance to escape with his life. Dropping to a crouch in the shadow of a hedge, he looked across the front of the Center. The beautifully landscaped lawn and horseshoe curve of the drive were brightly lit. The illuminated area stood between him and the parking lot. He had no choice but to dash across it. The muscles of his thighs coiled like springs as Ian launched into a dead run. He pounded across the grass and paved path, leaping low shrubs and flowerbeds and dodging around stone benches. He crossed the lit area without being shot by a sniper and counted himself blessed as he dove to the ground in the shadow of the hedge on the opposite side. Winded, he lay face down in the dirt, breathing in the rich-scented loam and some kind of mint planted by the hedge. He vowed to appreciate little details of nature like this every day for the rest of his life if he made it to freedom. After a moment, he lifted his head and scanned the lot, looking for a likely prospect. Third row down, eighth car over was an older model Plymouth, less likely to have a security alarm. He crawled up off his stomach and crouched, ready to run again. Eyes on his target, Ian loped down the first row of cars and then cut between a van and a Mercedes. He peered around the edge of the van. Something was happening by the gates farther down the drive. The gatekeeper was talking to the driver of an arriving car. Crap. If only the person had arrived a little later it would have been a good distraction when he attempted to crash the gate. Ian’s attention turned back to the Plymouth and he ran the rest of the way to the car. The door was locked. He looked around for something with which to break the window. Despite what action movies showed, he knew from experience that using an elbow would only result in a hell of a lot of pain. Running footsteps and a shot blistering the pavement near his feet were his warning that escape was not going to be so easy. Asphalt shrapnel flew up and struck him like a hail of BB pellets. He dropped to the ground and crawled back the direction from which he’d come, rolled underneath a truck, came out on the other side; then continued to crawl away between the vehicles. Footsteps pounded behind him. More came from in front of him. Ian crouched between two cars, ready to run again as soon as he could figure out which direction was safe. “Over there,” somebody shouted. “Cut him off.” Eyeing the distance to the perimeter fence, he calculated his chances of scaling it before he was riddled with bullets. He drew the table knife from his pocket. The fork had served him well as a weapon, maybe there was hope for him to fight his way out with a dull knife. He cursed his stupidity in leaving his handy pick in the pocket of the coveralls. Someone approached only a car length away on his left. Beneath the car, he saw a

man’s feet on the other side. Ian made a snap decision, jumped up, rolled across the trunk of the car and landed on his feet behind the man. He leaped on his back, an arm around his neck and pressed the knife into his throat. The man was Murav. He spun around, knocking Ian against a vehicle, trying to dislodge him, then reached over his shoulder and hit him in the head with the butt of his gun. Ian pressed harder with his knife. It was dull but serviceable for cutting off airflow. Murav gripped his arm, trying to pull the knife away from his throat. He rammed Ian’s back into the vehicle again, knocking the breath out of him and loosening his choke hold. Another man came running; a shadowy figure with a gun in his hand. Ian figured the guy wouldn’t shoot with Murav in the way, but he was wrong. A bullet whizzed past his head and hit the roof of the car behind him with a sharp, metallic ping. “Stop shooting. I want him alive!” Brody’s voice came from a distance away. With superior strength, Murav’s grip on Ian’s wrist crushed his bones until he was forced to drop the knife. The Terran wrenched him off his back and threw him against the trunk of the car with a force that dented the metal. For a split second Ian wondered how they would explain bullet holes and dents to the car’s owner the next morning, then Murav’s hand encircled his throat and he quit thinking about anything except drawing his next breath. Third time’s a charm, flashed through his head. Maybe this time the guard would succeed in choking the life out of him. “Got him?” Brody’s voice floated somewhere on the periphery of his consciousness. Ian grabbed Murav’s arm with both hands, trying to break the man’s grip, but he wasn’t nearly as strong as Brody’s henchman. Black dots swam before his eyes and he wheezed for air. His body was pressed between the car and his attacker, but Ian managed to lift his knee and drive it up as hard as he could into the other man’s crotch. Murav let out a constricted groan and loosened his grip. Ian squirmed away, rolled off the car and stumbled across the ground into the open path between the rows of vehicles. A car’s headlights were coming straight toward him. He froze in their glare like an animal, staring into the beams, too overwhelmed to make yet one more decision about jumping right or left. It would almost be a relief for the car to hit him and take him out of this nightmare. Ian! His name burst inside his head and he recognized the caller immediately. Mira? He darted out of the way of the oncoming car. She hit the brakes and the car screeched to a halt. He ran for the rear driver’s side door, glancing up long enough to see Raymond Brody racing toward him with a posse of guards. Ian fumbled the door handle, got hold of it and wrenched the door open. He tumbled inside. “Go! Go! Go!” With the door still open, Mira peeled out. Ian scrambled in and reached out to pull it closed. He heard the shatter of glass as a bullet hit the car’s taillight. Mira drove down the row of cars and swerved so sharply Ian was tossed across the seat. She hit the gas and tore up the next row heading back toward the drive. Tires squealed as she turned onto the drive and aimed the car for the gate.

Several guards and the gatekeeper were clustered near the lighted booth. Mira aimed straight at them like a bowling ball down an alley. On the straightaway approaching the gate, she pressed her foot to the floor. “Hold on. We’re going through.” Ian stared at the decorative iron gates looming before them. “Holy shit!” He felt for the seatbelt, attempting to buckle it as they hurtled toward the men and the gate. Like high school kids playing chicken, the men stood their ground, standing in the drive, trying to flag Mira down. They jumped out of the way at the last possible second, scattering before the rushing vehicle. The right fender hit one of the guys’ legs as he leaped. Then the gate was in front of the car. They hit it with a bang and a scream of twisted metal. Ian was tossed back in his seat by the force of the impact, then sideways when the car skewed to the left but continued to plow ahead. It seemed impossible the vehicle didn’t stall out as the engine labored against the resistance of the gate, but Mira kept her foot to the gas and the Plymouth drove inexorably forward. Sparks flew up from the side panel as metal dragged the length like fingernails on a chalkboard. A section of gate got hooked on the side of the car and was carried forward several yards before falling away. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Ian exclaimed. His head swiveled to look out the back window at the ruined gate and Brody’s men standing on the road behind them. “That was awesome!” Mira caught his eye in the rearview mirror when he faced forward again. “Are you all right?” “I can’t believe you’re here.” He couldn’t stop grinning. He felt buoyant as a balloon, drunk with relief and joy at the fact she’d come for him. “You saved my life. Had to return the favor.” She smiled then searched the road behind them. “But we’re not safe yet. They’ll be after us.” The car passed the sign welcoming people to the Wellbeing Center. Mira turned onto the road. “Where’s Foster?” “He’s taking care of the box.” “And he let you come here alone.” “He didn’t let me do anything.” She bore down on the gas once more and the Plymouth ate up the road as it headed for the highway. “I told him I wouldn’t wait for backup from KOTE.” He craned his neck to check out the back window. No one appeared to be following yet. “Are you suicidal? What were you thinking?” “That I had to get you out of there before Brody killed you.” “What was your plan?” There was a long pause. “I didn’t really have one. Sometimes you just have to go on instinct—and it worked out. I was where I needed to be when I needed to be there.” “That was some pretty fucking amazing timing,” Ian agreed. He took off the suit jacket and climbed over the front seat to ride beside Mira. He took another look behind them, then settled into the seat, staring out the windshield at the stream of lights on the highway coming up before them. “Thank you.” “No problem.” She looked over at him before turning her attention back to the road and steering onto the on-ramp. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you again?” He shook his head. “I got away and ran around the building hiding.”

Mira didn’t ask how he’d escaped. “We’ll meet Justin and whoever they’ve sent from KOTE.” Ian drank in her profile for a moment, the long dark hair, wide nose, strong cheekbones, thick brush of eyelashes and full lips. He could hardly fathom the fact she’d come back for him. He couldn’t stop smiling about it. Mira glanced over at him. “What?” “Nothing. I’m just…” He shook his head. “It’s been a hell of a day.” She laughed, a light, tinkling sound like a music box. “Yes it has.” He rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes for a moment, relishing his freedom. “Hey, where’d you get the wheels?” “It’s a rental … on Justin’s credit card. You think they’ll notice the damage?” Ian burst out laughing.

Chapter Thirteen With a full tank of gas and an open highway, she broke the speed limit all the way back to the city. Ian checked the back window and the side mirrors obsessively, but no one was following. It was almost ominous that there was no sign of Brody’s men pursuing them. Mira kept stealing glances over at him. She was worried about him. He was only human, after all, and easily damaged. His swollen eye looked terrible and there was a welt across his cheekbone. A ring of bruises from Murav’s fingers circled his neck. God knew what internal injuries he might have suffered from being punched in the gut with Terran strength. Her instinct to care for him and heal him was overwhelming. She reached out and brushed the side of his face lightly with her fingers. At her touch, Ian started from his blind gaze out the window. He looked at her with shadowed eyes. “What?” “Nothing, just … are you really all right? Nothing’s broken or ruptured or anything?” “I’m fine.” They arrived at the pub where Mira had arranged to meet Justin. She parked the car around the corner, out of sight, and they walked to the bar. Sitting in a booth, the Protector and another man were arguing so heatedly they didn’t notice them at first. When Justin glanced up and saw them approaching, his face went slack with surprise. “You’re here! You made it!” “Told you I’d be back in an hour or so.” Mira sank down on the vinyl seat with relief. She hadn’t realized her legs were trembling until that moment. Ian hesitated then pulled a chair up to the booth rather than sit next to the stranger from KOTE. “So, Protector, you really did your job today. You should get a medal. By the way, you might have a little trouble getting your deposit back at the rental car place.” “It’s trashed,” Mira agreed. “But I’m sure the Council will cover the expense.” “You know Chris Fujikawa?” Justin asked. “Yes, we’re old friends.” Mira smiled and nodded at the other man. “They only sent you?” “The Council wanted the box taken directly to them before anything else could happen,” Chris said. “Two Protectors were sent from Chicago to escort it immediately to California. They’re already on their way there.” “We were just planning how to help you,” Justin added. “Sitting around drinking beer and talking is always a good way to rescue somebody,” Ian said. Mira frowned at him. “Enough. It’s been a hard day for everybody.” “Well, the box is safe and so are you.” Chris kept his tone light. “Yeah, except that maniac thinks I have the amulet so he’s still after my ass.” “Amulet. What are you talking about?” Mira asked. Ian hadn’t said much in the car and, realizing the trauma he’d been through, she’d given him time to relax before the questions started. “After they let you go, I told Brody you had the box but I’d taken the contents, an

amulet, and hidden it at the motel where we stayed. I was trying to buy time and told him part of the truth so he’d think KOTE would be off his back for a while and maybe let his guard down.” “So you invented an amulet?” Justin said. “Yeah. Then I killed the guard and escaped before Brody found out there wasn’t anything at the motel. I was almost out of the building before all hell broke loose.” Mira could feel how much the killing had upset Ian. He might talk about it lightly but it had affected him deeply. “Did any of you learn anything about the organization that might explain what his plans are?” Chris asked. “He talked about delivering these people to his father as supporters, of what I don’t know,” Mira said. “He’s tagging them,” Ian added. “I was hiding in one of the rooms and these guys came through, doing something while the guests are unconscious. I think shooting a tracking device under the skin. From what they said, Brody monitors all these people on computer.” “We were out for a while.” Mira put her hand to the side of her neck, remembering the stab of the needle. “I can scan you,” Fujikawa said. “I can locate electronic devices, bugs, taps, anything that emits an electromagnetic wave.” “How handy.” Ian leaned back in his chair and signaled the waitress. Mira knew Chris was an Earth Keeper, in tune with the ebb and flow of magnetic currents, but she’d never seen what he could do. She was as intrigued as Ian pretended not to be when Chris leaned across the table and ran his fingers lightly over her neck. He didn’t touch her skin, merely ran his hand up and down about an inch away from the area of the tiny puncture wound in her neck. His dark brows drew together in concentration as he moved his hand around her neck, scanning all of it. “Nothing. I’m not sensing a thing. Unless he’s developed an entirely new technology, you’re clean.” The Keeper moved to Justin and found no device on him either. Ian snorted in disbelief as Chris scanned him as well. “That’s a useful skill you’ve got there. How accurate is it?” Fujikawa ignored the jab. “All clear.” “Why wouldn’t Brody have marked us?” Mira said. “It doesn’t make sense. That tracking device would be so useful to him right now.” “Because he wasn’t going to let us go—ever. And because he’s a screw-up just like his old man thinks he is.” Ian tossed back the whiskey he’d ordered. “So, the precious box is on the way to California, but the maniac cult leader still thinks I have what he wants. What happens now?” “The information you provided about Brody’s ability to track his followers is very important,” Fujikawa said. “KOTE will ensure you’re well protected. We can create a new identity for you and find you a safe place to start over.” “Like witness protection.” “Yes, something like that.” “What if I don’t want it?” What if I want to go back to my old life and pretend none of this ever happened?

“It’s your choice, but…” Chris trailed off suggestively. He shrugged. “I’ll book the three of you on a commercial flight to San Francisco. After debriefing, Donovan will help you decide your best course of action.” “Thanks for the unlimited options.” Ian scowled and finished off his drink in another gulp. Mira wanted to smack him for his attitude and gather him into her arms and hug him at the same time. “Make mine to Reno,” Justin said. “I have another situation I was dealing with when all this came up. I have to get there as soon as possible. I’ll drop by headquarters after. I’m going to go outside and take a look around to make sure you weren’t followed.” Mira moved to let Justin out of the booth. Chris also went outdoors to get better reception on his phone as he called the airline. She sat back down, resting her elbows on the table and rubbing her forehead. A headache pulsed behind her eyes. She felt she could lay her head down on the table and sleep right there. “You all right?” Ian’s husky voice came from her right. He touched her shoulder. “Yeah.” She looked up and smiled at his concerned expression. “How about you?” “Don’t think I’ll ever sleep again I’m so wired, but I’m okay I guess.” She reached out and touched the bruises on his neck and cheekbone. “We should get you to a doctor. How are your ribs and those burns?” “Hurt like a sonofabitch.” “Did they … do anything else to you after we left?” He shook his head, looked down at his empty glass and spun it around. “So … what now? We go back to Cali and I start my new life as John Smith, always looking over my shoulder for this guy coming after me?” “He may not. He must have figured out by now there really is no amulet.” Ian laughed harshly. “With a guy like that it doesn’t matter. It’s personal. He’s pissed off at me for out-maneuvering him.” “We’ll make sure you’re safe. Trust me.” Mira wanted to add that she’d personally assign herself as his bodyguard, forever if need be. “And you?” Ian looked up. His dark eyes focused on hers. “What will you do next?” “I’ll investigate whatever KOTE asks me to.” She smiled. “Although I think I’ll take a little break and work at my practice for a while first.” “Ah, right. The psychic healing.” She nodded. “This was a little more intense than I expected. I need to get back to my regular life.” Mira wanted to express her interest in making Ian a part of that life, but found herself inexplicably tongue-tied. She cleared her throat. “You know, sometimes when people are brought together suddenly and under extreme circumstances like this, they bond very quickly. It doesn’t mean they’re fated to be together forever. It’s easy to get caught up in the situation and let emotions take over.” Ian dropped his gaze to his glass again. “I know.” He turned it upside down and raised a hand for the waitress to bring another. Mira laced and unlaced her fingers. “You and I…” “Would never work. I get it.” “No. I wasn’t going to say that. I…” “Couldn’t get a flight out tonight. You’re booked for 6 a.m.” Fujikawa interrupted, sliding into the seat across from her. “We’ll get a motel so you can sleep a few hours.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “You sure it’s safe, though?” “Foster and I will stand guard.” Justin rejoined them. “I won’t let anything else happen. You’re safe now.”

Chapter Fourteen Ian stood in front of the cigarette machine in the lobby of the motel staring as if it were an oasis in a desert. He didn’t have a buck in his pocket to make a purchase since he was wearing somebody else’s ill-fitting dress pants. He rested his hand against the glass and felt the low electrical thrum of the machine. He imagined breaking into the machine, filling his pockets with cool menthols and filterless Marlboros. “Here.” Foster was suddenly beside him, holding out a five-dollar bill. He glanced at it, shook his head and turned away from the wealth of tobacco in the machine. “No thanks. I gave it up.” Damned if he’d take money from Captain America like some beggar. He turned to watch Fujikawa checking them in at the front desk. Mira stood nearby, gazing blankly at the wall. Foster put the bill back in his pocket. “You did good today. You got the box out and you got all of us free.” “Well, I just tried to think what a hero like you would do.” Ian said it with a sarcastic drawl, but it was the truth. “First time you ever had to kill somebody?” Ian shrugged. “I know it’s not easy.” He looked out the window at the dark night and the moths flitting in the pool of light near the door. “Anyway … just wanted to thank you.” “No problem.” They waited in awkward silence for the others to join them. **** Ian’s room was right beside Mira’s. He walked in and flopped on the bed, then lay straining to hear her move around next door. A few moments passed and the shower went on. He closed his eyes and pictured her under the streaming jet of water: black hair plastered to her skull, brown skin, slick and wet as polished wood. He imagined the shampoo lathering her hair and dripping down onto the slope of her breasts, white suds against tan flesh. He groaned and rolled to his side. He was too fucking tired to be fantasizing like this and needed to get some sleep. Staggering to his feet, he stripped off his borrowed suit and his own bloodstained Tshirt, turned the shower as hot as it would go and stepped beneath the steaming spray. He leaned against the wall, eyes closed watching random images from the wild day play across his closed eyelids. One picture lodged in his head and wouldn’t break loose— Preston’s astonished eyes, frozen wide and his mouth open and gasping for breath. Ian was suddenly shaking despite the water’s heat. He wrapped his arms around his body and sank down the wall to sit huddled on the floor of the tub, forehead resting against his knees. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he was broken from his trance, or whatever the hell it was, by a loud knock on the door. Rising, he slapped off the water, heart pounding. Brody was after them. Foster was at the door because they had to run

again. He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist then dripped his way to the door. “Yeah?” “Ian, open up. It’s me.” He was so relieved to hear Mira’s voice he obeyed immediately, opening the door a few inches. “The guys ordered pizza.” She held up a box. Behind her in the hall, Fujikawa and Foster were talking and eating slices. “May I come in?” Ian glanced down at his towel-clad torso. He didn’t want to put on the clothes he’d worn all evening. In fact he wanted to burn them and forget everything that had happened while he was wearing them. Fuck it, he decided. Mira could deal with a little nudity. He opened the door wider. “Sure.” Her gaze flicked over his body for a brief moment, taking him in, then focused on his burns and bruises. “Are you sure you’re all right? I could send one of the guys to a pharmacy to buy ointment for those burns.” “Naw. I’m fine.” “ ’Cause you look…” She trailed off. Closing the door behind her, she reached out to touch his chest with gentle fingertips. “Do they hurt very much?” Yes. No. Don’t stop touching me. Ian shook his head. Mira dropped her hand away and stepped back. She held up the pizza box in her hands. “Hungry?” Ian’s body continued to burn from her tender exploration. “Yeah,” he lied. Actually he’d never felt less like eating in his life. He took the box from her and gestured toward the bed. “Sit down?” Mira crossed to the bed and plopped down on it, tucking one leg up beside her and letting the other rest on the floor. She wore the same clothes she’d been in for two days, but her hair was wet and sleek. She looked up at him expectantly and he realized he was supposed to sit down with her. He set the pizza on the nightstand and took a seat on the bed. “What? You look like you have something to say.” “I always have something to say. Ask anybody in my family.” She smiled, her beautiful white teeth flashing and catching hold of his heart. “Go ahead then.” He settled himself as casually as he could considering the towel gaped whenever he spread his legs at all. “I never got to finish what I wanted to say at the restaurant.” “About why we could never hook up? Don’t bother. I get it. I’m not the guy. You’re looking for somebody like Captain America out there.” He waved his hand toward the hall. “A Protector.” “What?” Mira frowned. “Why would I be here if that were true? No. I wanted to say that you and I have a connection like I’ve never experienced with anyone before.” “Have a what?” Ian thought he might still be in the shower in a fugue state imagining this. She leaned toward him slightly. “Don’t you feel it too? When I reach out my mind I can feel yours—not always clearly or close, but out there somewhere. I knew I had to come for you tonight, that you needed me. And when I was running through the park yesterday and saw you, I knew you were there for me.” She reached a hand out and rested

it on his knee. “It felt like I was running toward home.” Ian couldn’t have been more shocked if Justin Foster had knocked on the door and told him he wanted to fuck. “Me?” was all he could manage to say. “Yes, Ian, you.” Her smile widened then dimmed. “You do feel something, don’t you? It’s not just me.” “Yeah, of course, but … why? How could you possibly want me when you could have fucking Captain America?” “I’m not interested in fucking Captain America. I love you.” Ian froze at the “L” word. She was teasing him. This had to be some kind of joke. “Why would you say that? You don’t even know me.” Mira scooted closer. “I know you. And you know me.” She put the palm of her hand very carefully on his burn-scarred chest and looked into his eyes. “In here where it counts. The rest will come later.” “You know how crazy you sound, right?” His heart fluttered beneath her hand and his chest rose and fell rapidly. She leaned in until her lips were only inches from his. “Crazier than the idea of Keepers and Destroyers and magic boxes? Justin was right, Ian, Terrans are different from humans in many ways and one of them is a penchant for believing in soul mates.” She pressed her mouth to his, kissing him lightly before pulling away. “I think I’ve finally found mine.” “Okay, now you’re just scary. Like, Fatal Attraction scary.” Ian’s arms stole around her and pulled her onto his lap, holding her tight even though his ribs hurt like hell. He didn’t know if he was ready for the kind of commitment she was talking about, but was ready to take anything she wanted to give. Her arms went around his neck. The slide of her skin against his wounds set them screaming with pain, but he didn’t even care. She kissed him again, harder this time. “No bunnies in pots, I promise.” She laughed. God, how he loved her laugh! Ian’s doubts blew away. He forgot to remember he wasn’t good enough for her and bent his head to kiss her, sucking her full, luscious bottom lip into his mouth then letting it go. “Damn, I’ve wanted to do that.” His hand roamed up her back and into the silky, wetness of her hair. He cradled the back of her head and stroked his tongue over hers in a deep, searching exploration. Mira angled her head a little to make the kiss even deeper. Their tongues twined together like two flames from one fire, hot and molten. Something passed between them, a jolting, electric surge fusing them together, making them one. Ian pulled away, clapping a hand to his mouth. “What the hell?” His heart raced and his body tingled all over. Mira smiled. “I’m not human, Ian. This may be a little more than what you’re used to.” He swallowed his surprise and grinned. “Bring it on, baby. Sex with a hot alien chick. Every boy’s wet dream.” * His wide-eyed shock was replaced by a horny gleam. He gathered her into his arms and ravaged her mouth again. Mira slipped her hands over the smooth muscles of his shoulders and around the

back of his neck. She kept her touch light and cautious on his damaged skin. Entwining her fingers in the shaggy ends of his hair, she tugged on it and kissed him until her lips felt swollen and used. She lifted her chin to encourage his nibbling kisses on her neck. He kissed and licked down the column of her throat and sucked on the tender skin just above her throbbing pulse. Ian, she called mentally, quietly, so as not to frighten him. “Mm?” He continued nuzzling her throat, unaware the word had been sub-vocal. Mira ran her mind over and around the edges of his, like fingertips stroking. Feel me? That caught his attention. Once more he pulled away to stare at her. Let me in and I’ll let you in. Trust me, the sex will be magnified a hundred times if our minds are joined. She sent him images of the things she wanted to do with him then showed him the powerful erotic feelings he aroused in her. As the images and sensations tumbled through her mind, they flashed into his. He gasped and his eyes closed as he drank in her thoughts and feelings. “Oh.” Complete comprehension was contained in the small sound. His inner voice repeated. Oh. Yes. Like that. Mira slid her hands down the hard plane of his chest toward his stomach. Only a soft down of hair disturbed the smooth expanse of skin over muscle. She relished his silky skin and broadcast how wonderful it felt to her. It feels so… She received an answering surge of mental lust telling her how much he craved her touch. His stomach twitched as her hands and the cool, conditioned air of the motel room brushed over naked skin. More was his plea. She toyed with the edge of the towel, running a finger around his waist and loosening the terry fabric. Then she moved her hands up to his chest again, pinching his small, flat nipples and making him groan. Mira usually conserved her sexual energy, turning it inward and sending it up the spinal path of chakras toward her spiritual eye during meditation rather than expending it on random physical affairs. It had been a while since she’d had a lover. She’d forgotten how exciting it was to feel not only her own pleasure, but her partner’s delight expanding and amplifying it. She realized that, for Ian, the experience of fundamentally sharing another person’s intimate sexual experience was brand new. They kissed again. He helped her shed her blouse and bra then stroked her skin (soft so soft) and sucked her dusky nipple into his mouth (wet, hard, warm, wonderful). Their mutual joy in one another grew stronger and deeper; the sensations compounded until it was impossible to tell which pleasure belonged to which body. He stroked her back and shoulders, arms, breasts and belly, moving over every bit of naked skin he could reach and then unfastening the front of her jeans to discover more flesh to touch. Mira lifted her hips and wiggled out of the filthy jeans. Her underwear stripped off along with them. She lay back, naked, on the slick polyester cover. It felt slippery against her skin. She glanced down. “This is the butt-ugliest bedspread I’ve ever seen.” Ian looked at the olive green vines and large gold flowers and laughed. She felt the joy bubbling up in him and reaching out to her. I’ve never been so happy in my life. She received the formless idea and perceived his underlying feelings of isolation, despair, and loneliness, which made this union even more precious to him. Discarding the towel, he stood beside the bed for a moment, his gaze devouring her

body. She felt his arousal kick up another notch and hers did the same as she scanned his lean frame, the long sinewy muscles and jutting cock straining toward her, lingering on the burns and bruises marking his chest and throat. She opened her arms for him. He crawled between her warm, waiting thighs and into her embrace, leaning on his elbows, looking down at her face for several moments. Beautiful. I want to draw you just like this. Brushing a lock of hair away from her mouth, he bent to press his lips to hers. (soft, sweet, safe) Mira caressed the nape of his neck and opened her mouth to this more delicate kiss. I’ve wanted you inside me since we woke up together. You were awake? He pulled away to look at her, eyebrows raised. She smiled and winked. She guided his hand down between her legs so he could feel how wet and ready she was for him. Feel how much I want you? A primitive growl from deep in his hindbrain was her answer. He descended on her throat, kissing, sucking and biting. Moving his head lower, he drew her nipple into his hot mouth. The pulling sensation drove her wild. Heat flashed from Mira’s nipple down to her sex, making it ache. Her body twisted beneath him. Ian teased his fingers between the fleshy folds of her pussy, stroking in and out of her channel. Drawing the moisture up to her clit, he rubbed light circles there. Mira moaned and arched toward his hand. Her desire was magnified by his arousal, which she could feel as if it was her own. The sensations bounced back and forth between them like mirrors reflecting mirrors in an endless circuit, twining around each other even as their bodies did. Need you. Need you. Ian’s primal imperative throbbed in his brain as he thrust his erection against her leg. Its satiny length glided up her thigh and the lips of her pussy ached and opened. Come inside now. She tugged on his shoulders. Ian slid up her body, skin to skin, until he was suspended above her once more, looking down into her eyes. Want you. Only you. She reached between them and wrapped her hand around his hot, throbbing cock. The heft and girth in her grip were satisfying. She guided it to her entrance. In me! Now! Please! He pushed inside with a long groan that resounded both inside and outside her head. Gripping his buttocks, she urged him deeper, relishing the sensation of being filled. With their minds joined she could experience both the positive and negative aspects, the dual nature of giving and receiving. Together they made a perfect circle of completion. Mira whimpered as she rose and fell beneath him. She moved quickly to orgasm. It had been so long and her need was too great to hold back. This encounter was going to be fast and intense, their mutual desire enhanced by a day pumped full of adrenaline. Nothing like near-death to get you fired up. Mm. Ian’s thoughts were little more than primitive grunts now as he pumped into her with deep, hard strokes. Hot. Wet. Tight. Need. She moaned louder and lifted her hips to meet him, wrapping her legs around his. Her nails dug into his ass as she gripped him. Fill me. Love you inside me. Their flesh slapped together with resounding smacks.

His eyes were closed, mouth open and panting in time with his thrusts. Woman. Mine. Need. Now. His base craving for her was an aphrodisiac. Her nipples ached as they rubbed against his sweat-slicked chest. Her pussy clenched and held him fast then let his cock go with reluctant suction on each withdrawal. More. Deeper. Harder. Mine. Sparks coalesced in a dark space deep inside her, swirling like a nebula in the cosmos, growing in shape and density until the first glimmering sparkle erupted in a rain of fire. She came with a wild explosion of firing neurons. The intense orgasm roared like a flash fire through her entire body and she cried out. “Oh, fuck!” Ian was rocked by her ecstasy, feeling every moment of it with her. Her orgasm triggered his and he froze, shuddering in her embrace. His cock pulsed and released inside her, filling her with his seed. A long, drawn-out cry of relief rang out inside her head. This, this was what he’d been waiting for all his life. She was the one he needed to fill the aching hole inside him. He lay on top of her, face buried in the crook of her neck, his body rising and falling with his ragged breaths. “Jesus!” Jesus, he prayed in a profane litany. Mira, still rocked by her own powerful release, held him as he shivered and brought his breathing slowly under control. She thought he might be crying. “Jesus,” he said aloud once more. “This has been the longest, strangest fucking day of my life.” She laughed. “It’s over now. You’re safe. You can rest, and I promise I won’t make any more sexual demands on you.” “That’s good, ‘cause I think it’d kill me.” His voice was muffled against her shoulder. Mira felt a brief pang of loss as his mind withdrew into its own space. He was closed to her now and they had to speak with words again. Ian rolled onto his back, throwing an arm above his head and resting the other hand on his chest. He drew a deep breath. “Whew!” He glanced sideways at her. “So, is it always that intense with you?” “You’ll have to stick around to find out.” “Was that tantric shit? I’ve heard about that.” “Nuh-uh. That was you-and-me shit. I can teach you tantric techniques if you want. It’s all about conserving sexual energy and prolonging the experience.” She grinned. “But a wham-bam is good sometimes too, don’t you think?” “Definitely.” He smiled and stared up at the ceiling. Silence fell between them for several moments. When Mira glanced over again, Ian’s smile had faded and a frown creased his forehead. “What’s the matter?” She rolled to her side and put her hand on his shoulder. His muscles were tense under his sweating skin. “Talk to me.” “Nothing.” He put his arm across his eyes. She squeezed his shoulder. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” “Jesus, it’s so lame.” “You can tell me anything.” He hesitated another moment then made a back-and-forth gesture between the two of them with his hand. “This. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t be the kind of man you need me to be?”

She rubbed a light, soothing circle on his chest with the palm of her hand, being careful around his burns. “It’s all right. You don’t have to change who you are for me.” Ian uncovered his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Okay. It’s true, it might be better if you didn’t steal or sell drugs anymore, but other than that, you’re fine just the way you are.” “You don’t know me. There are a hundred things I do every day that aren’t good enough for you. You think I have more of a conscience than I actually do. I’m not a good guy. I’m not the hero. That’s Foster.” Mira continued to stroke circles over his heart, feeling the fear and doubt radiating off him and wanting to offer comfort. “I do know you, Ian. I already told you that. What you did today was heroic. You could have told them where you’d hidden the box, traded it for your freedom or even for money, but you didn’t. Instead you let yourself be tortured and set Justin and me free. Your conscience may be a little weak in some areas, but it still works just fine.” She dipped her head and pressed kisses on his shoulder. “I’ll help you exercise it. We’ll put it on a Pilates regimen.” A smile flashed across his mouth then quickly disappeared. “But what about the whole inter-species thing? You’re supposed to be with your own kind, right? Hell, your life span makes mine look like a Mayfly. How’s that going to work?” Mira crawled on top of him, her body covering his from chest to toe. She put a hand on each side of his face and looked down into his eyes, refusing to let his gaze slide away from hers. “When you’re eighty years old and I’m one hundred twenty-five, people are going to look at us and think you’re a dirty old man and I’m a nasty little gold-digger taking advantage of you. That’s all.” There. The grin was back. Ian’s warm chuckle sent waves of delight shimmering through her. “Trust me. It will be all right.” She pressed her fingertips to his temples. “See? I’m using my Jedi mind powers on you. ‘You want to be with me. You will relax and trust me. You will get rid of self-doubt and let yourself be happy, starting now.’” Ian put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her down for a kiss. Then he looked up into her eyes. “I will relax and trust you,” he repeated in a monotone as though under her spell. “I want to be with you, and I will be happy starting … now.” Holding her close, he kissed her deeply. Mira pulled back after a moment, crossed her arms on his chest and continued to look down at him. He sighed. “All right. I have just one more question.” “What’s that?” He jerked his head toward the door. “You think they heard us out there?” She laughed. “Probably.” “Good.” Ian’s smile was smug. **** Ian didn’t remember falling asleep, but woke with a jerk from a dream about running and falling. The room was still brightly lit. He looked at the bedside clock. It was 3:00 a.m. They still had some time before they had to get up and go to the airport to catch their flight.

He wondered if Brody and his men would be waiting there for them. Turning his head on the pillow, he watched Mira’s sleeping face then reached out to trace the angles of her face, lightly so as not to wake her. She had beautiful bone structure, strong and angular, but softened by the curve of her cheeks and those delectable, bee-stung lips. He brushed his hand over her silky hair, pushing back a few strands that had fallen across her eyes. She was perfect and it was almost frightening that she wanted him. Nothing this good ever happened to him. It made him anxious, waiting for the inevitable punch he knew had to be coming. Her long lashes flickered and her eyes opened. She smiled when she saw him. “Hey. What time is it?” “Only a little after 3:00. We have time. Go back to sleep.” She rubbed her eyes, yawning, and shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I’ve got better things to do.” “Oh really? Like what.” “I’ll show you in a minute, but I have to pee first.” Mira hopped out of bed, her nude body swaying as she crossed the room and closed the bathroom door behind her. Crossing his arms behind his head, Ian closed his eyes and smiled. He would enjoy this night, whatever crap might rain down in the future. “Here.” She stood beside the bed offering a glass of water. “Thanks.” As he swallowed it, she sat beside him on the bed and brushed her hand lightly over his wounds. “Hurt much? We should have bought some aspirin.” “It’s okay.” She took the empty glass from him and placed it on the nightstand then climbed onto the bed and straddled him, a mischievous look in her dark eyes. “You like being on top, do you?” He ran his hands down the length of her smooth back, feeling the bumps of spine under the fingertips of one hand, like piano keys. “Not always. But right now I want you to relax and let me do everything.” She leaned to kiss the side of his jaw then trailed her lips down his neck. He lifted his chin, enjoying the fluttering kisses along his jugular, and groaned. “I thought you weren’t going to molest me anymore tonight.” “Changed my mind.” She nipped his skin. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is lie there.” “Sounds good.” Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the sensation of her soft hair brushing over his chest and her nibbling lips and teeth on his nipples. He didn’t feel her mind reaching out to his. While it was almost a relief not to have that level of intensity, he also missed the awareness of her. It would be easy to get addicted to Mira’s way of making love. She touched her fingers lightly to the various burns on his body, soothing them like aloe. She licked a trail down the flat plane of his stomach. His belly twitched under her tickling tongue and his cock swelled even harder in anticipation of her mouth engulfing it. When she took the shaft in her firm grasp and slid her hand up and down, he moaned and opened his eyes to watch her. Mira pushed her hair back and glanced up at him, half lowering her eyelids and making a show of licking all around the ridge and over the head of his cock. Her low,

“Mmmm,” made his dick throb. He felt lightheaded as all the blood in his body seemed to be rushing to his groin. Her lush lips wrapped around the swollen head and sucked it into the fiery heat of her mouth. “Jesus, you’re good,” he groaned. His cock vibrated from her throaty chuckle. Lifting his hips up, he thrust gently into her mouth and hand. She sucked and stroked him vigorously for a while then let him slip out of her mouth. A moment later her wet tongue bathed his balls while her hand fondled them. One finger rubbed the strip of skin between his balls and anus then teased the edge of the puckered opening. Ian groaned again and thrust into her pumping hand faster. Abandoning his cock, she moved back up on top of him. Her legs straddled his hips and her breasts swayed against his chest. Reaching down, she positioned his cock at the lips of her pussy. Sitting up, palms braced on his chest, she pushed down slowly, engulfing him inch by inch. Her face was beautiful, eyes closed and lips parted in arousal. Her dark hair floated around her shoulders. The sharp, pointed nipples of her breasts jutted proudly from her chest. Her small breasts bobbed, as she began to move up and down on him in a steady rhythm. She arched her back and her head tilted backward, exposing an expanse of throat. He slid his hands up her thighs, relishing the smooth flesh, and gripped her hips, then reached a hand to one of her jiggling breasts and caressed it, pulling on the nipple. Mira let out a low moan and pressed into his hand. He stroked up her chest and the long column of her neck to touch her face, his back lifting from the bed. Dropping her chin, she opened her eyes to focus on his. A smile played over her lips and she leaned down to kiss him, never breaking the rhythm of her body. A rush of emotion surged through him. He pulled her close, one hand tangling in her hair, the other fiercely clutching her back. He’d had plenty of sex with numerous women in his life, but had never felt anything like the inexplicable emotions filling him now. He wanted to hold onto Mira forever and touch her more than just physically, the way they had done earlier. Ian opened his mind and sent out the message that thundered through him. Love? Her tongue coiled around his as she kissed him deeply. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Yes. Love. She blanketed him with the warm, happy, safe feeling behind the word, showering it down on him as her inner muscles clenched around his cock. Their union was less dramatic this time. There was no rapid pace and explosive finish, just a sudden, weightless release as Ian lifted up and let go inside her. He gave a long, audible exhale of relief. Mira’s breath caught and she moaned softly as she released too, her pussy pulsing around his cock. She lay quietly afterward, her head on his chest, her hot breath blowing against his skin, her hair tickling his chin. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of shampoo and her own natural oils. Already he felt he could identify her scent even if he was blindfolded in a room full of women. “This is so weird.” “What?” “It never mattered before. Sex, I mean. I didn’t know it could be this … deep.”

Not just sex. Love, she reminded him silently. “How? We barely know each other.” “Love is always there, all around us, all the time. We’re swimming in a sea of it. All you have to do is dip your cup in, lift it up and drink. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find another being you have an especially strong bond with.” “Is this the ‘we’re all connected’ philosophy of life?” “You got it, baby.” She kissed his chest. “Even someone like Brody?” “Even someone like Hitler. You can’t hate people for ignorance, for swamping themselves in delusion. They deserve sympathy and a helping hand if you can give it. Wash away the mud and there’s a shining gold soul in everyone.” Ian squeezed her. “Okay, sunshine. Enough sugar before I go into shock.” He felt her smile against his chest. They fell silent. Ian listened to the sounds of the motel’s heating system humming and Foster and Fujikawa’s quiet voices out in the hall, keeping watch over them. Mira’s breathing deepened as she fell asleep in his arms—an astonishing end to a surrealistic day. That he should even meet a person like her was amazing. That she should choose to be with him rather than her equal, someone like those two guys in the hallway, was beyond belief. Ian wondered again if he really could become a better version of himself, worthy of such a remarkable woman. He vowed to change, no matter how hard it was, and maybe some day he’d measure up to be the man Mira believed he was.

Epilogue Justin Foster ran his hand over the smooth, wood surface of the box inside the bag on his lap. He switched on his signal and checked traffic carefully before taking a left. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over by a cop or be involved in an accident when he was so close to his destination. After everything he’d gone through, it would be ludicrous to have something so inane interfere with his delivery of the box. He pulled into a parking space near the building and sat a moment, checking the street for danger before getting out of the car. Shouldering the precious bag, he walked through the front door of the office building and waited in the fern-lined lobby while the receptionist confirmed his appointment. Justin was met and guided by security personnel to a small room past the lobby, where they searched him for weapons or wires. After he’d passed muster, the guard accompanied him to the elevator, which shot straight up to the top floor of the building. The elevator doors whispered open and he faced a mahogany paneled corridor, dimly lit by ornate wall sconces. His feet sank in plush gray carpet as he followed his escort down the hall to a pair of double doors. The guard held the door open for him to enter then closed it quietly behind him. “Mr. Foster.” The man at the desk swung his chair back and forth, hands steepled beneath his chin. He didn’t rise to shake hands. “It’s been quite a ride and rather more difficult than it needed to be, don’t you think?” “The situation was delicate. If you want me to remain at KOTE, I couldn’t blow my cover. I had to appear to be protecting the Keeper and the box.” Justin forced his voice to remain cool. “Everything would have gone more smoothly if you had let me handle it my way and not sent your men after us so soon.” Brody’s eyes narrowed. “What was your hesitation? Were you getting cold feet about keeping our deal? I lost a couple of men in that accident because you wouldn’t pull over.” “I told you I wanted to question Kashi and find out what she knew before I let them bring us in. I could have handed you the box with no issues at all if you’d simply given me more time.” “Perhaps. Or maybe your Protector instincts kicked in and you had trouble taking a fall.” He shrugged. “But aside from the loss of a few staff members and this inconvenient trip to Reno to meet you, it all worked out in the end.” He stopped his chair and sat up straight. “You do have it, don’t you?” Justin reached into the bag and drew out the satin-smooth box, walked to the desk and set it down. “KOTE has a duplicate, created by a wizard who works quickly and doesn’t ask questions. There was very little time to get it done, magically sealed, and make the switch, but I think the result will fool even Kashi if she sees it again.” Brody’s eyes gleamed as he took the box in his hands. He grasped it so tightly his knuckles turned white and looked as if he would kiss it if Justin weren’t watching. No wonder. It would take a braver man than Raymond to face Algernon Brody with news that he’d failed in the simple task of looking after a box. “They have no suspicion they’re holding a fake?” Brody asked.

“No.” Justin forced his hands to stay loose at his sides. He sounded more confident than he felt about the ludicrous scheme. “I understand they don’t plan to open it immediately. Their goal is to keep it from your father. They’re afraid that what it contains may be harmful to the world.” Brody stroked the box like a pet cat. “You’re absolutely certain Black invented the amulet and doesn’t have it hidden somewhere?” “Yes. The man never opened the box and took nothing from it.” Ray set the box on his desk, resting his hands protectively on top of it. “Well done. Although it’s a pity I didn’t get to kill that lying weasel, Black, or keep the Keeper.” He smiled faintly and murmured “keep the Keeper” to himself. He looked up at Justin. “So, what can I do for you in return?” “You know.” Justin’s jaw tightened. “You know exactly what I want.” Brody nodded. “It shall be done.” He petted the box absently. “You will have what you want in due time. For now, I want you to resume your duties at KOTE and keep reporting to me as you have been.” Justin nodded once. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed it down along with his disgust for the man. “That will be all.” Brody smiled as he dismissed Justin, clearly enjoying his power over him. Without another word, the Protector turned and walked from the room. Outside the glossy mahogany doors, he paused, drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was over. KOTE still trusted him and his filthy task was finished. He felt poisoned by it. But nothing could interfere with his ultimate goal. He had done what he must to achieve it and no one could fault a man for that. **** Ray spun his chair from right to left in hypnotic repetition. Things were back under control again. Everything was going to be all right. His father need never know about the little blip on the radar. The box was secure and he could breathe easy. After he’d counted his tenth swing, he reached for the drawer where he kept the Pepto-Bismol, then laughed and dropped his hand from the drawer handle. He didn’t need it tonight. His stomach was fine. Rising, he picked up the box and carried it to his wall safe, tapped the combination on the keypad and spoke a few words for voice recognition. The door swung open and he set the box inside. Its shiny wooden surface glowed in the safe’s interior light. Ray touched it one last time; then closed the door, leaving the box and its mysterious contents in darkness. It would be there when his father asked for it and Raymond, the dutiful son, would present it and earn his gratitude and praise for a job well done. He would finally be a man in his father’s eyes. The End

About the Author: Whether you're a fan of contemporary, paranormal or historical romance, you will find something to enjoy among my books. My style is down to earth and my characters feel like well-known friends by the time you've finished reading. If you're used to a strong alpha male in romances, don't expect it here. While my heroes are manly, they're not aggressively male. I'm interested in flawed, often damaged people who find the fulfillment they seek in one another. I live a quiet life with my family completely the opposite of my characters’ adventurous lives. For more information go to http://bonniedee.com. You can contact me at [email protected]

Meet LSB Authors At The House Of Sin Lsbooks.NET We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. 2007: Terran Realm Urban fantasy world: TerranRealm.com Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay Fallen: by Tiffany Aaron Fallen angels in hot flight to redeem their wings The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!