Esther Mitchell

Desperate Measures

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Esther Mitchell

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OPERATION: PLEIADES DESPERATE MEASURES by Esther Mitchell Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com

Published by Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com 8190 W. Deer Valley Road, Peoria, AZ 85382 U.S.A. First e-published by Triskelion Publishing First e-publishing September 2004 ISBN 1-932866-33-7 Copyright © Triskelion Publishing 2004 All rights reserved. Cover art by Triskelion Publishing PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Dear Reader,

Here we are again. September, summer is coming to an end and the early morning dew coats the grass and with it comes a fresh smell that brings forth beginnings of early fall. We have a varied selection of books for you to enjoy this month, so sit back and check out the sneak peak. From Our Isis Reprints come Dream Angel and Dream Dancer from Denise Dietz. Both are set against an exotic backdrop of a 19th Century Circus. Then there’s Australian author Anna Jacobs writing as Sophie Jaye, Marrying a Stranger. A delightful story about a marriage of convenience. From Cathy McDavid Real Men Sell Bras for C’est La Vie! A quirky contemporary. From Amethyst Inferno this month we bring you three sizzling hot tales. These stories are sure to increase the heat. Lynn Warren brings us Eternal Flame a wickedly devilish Vampire that will have your pulses racing and the first in a Trilogy about The Blackthorn Triplets. Stolen Courage comes to us from Rae Monet. This story will have you running through a gamut of emotions. It’s highly sensual, deeply emotional with a fine dose of suspense. Just to keep you on the edge of your seat. From Shelly Laurenston comes a fantasy tale To Challenge A Dragon a spunky heroine and a sexy shapeshifting dragon will keep you delightfully entertained. This month for Amethyst Flashburn we have Trail Boss by Julia Templeton. contemporary set on a dude ranch. This one is for all you Cowboy lovers.

A smoldering hot

Finally, Amethyst Flame Kally Jo Surbeck a medieval fantasy, Sudden Fall. A princess has to find her soul-mate or her kingdom will be lost. This is the first of two books in the Yadderwal Balance series. And don’t forget, Operation: Pleiades & The Curse of the Midnight Star continue this month. Well, we have something to suit everyone’s tastes. I hope you enjoy September’s releases and come for more.

Gail Northman Editor: Triskelion Publishing

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CHAPTER ONE

April 1, 2023 The night wind held the chill of recent rain, but even the dark clouds that threatened more of the same did nothing to dampen the spirits of the people milling about on the streets of Paris for Poisson d’Avril. The scents of food and body heat, and the sounds of singing and laughter spiraled up through the night, above the snapping of flags and banners, to where a solitary figure faded in and out of sight with the shifting shadows from the full moon. Crouched like one of the gargoyles that framed the rectangular roof of Bon Dauphin, Paris’ premiere business hotel of late, the slim figure shifted. Obsidian eyes flashed beneath the moonlight as she rose to her full five-foot-six-inch height and straightened the gloves on her hands, a confident smirk spreading over her lush lips. This was going to be too easy. Astoria Blair, known to everyone who mattered as Tori, wasn’t just any thief. The Center for Evolutionary Medicine had made damned sure of that, even if they hadn’t planned on her going solo as a thief-for-hire. She was supposed to be an assassin; but Tori wasn’t buying into that ideology. Her eyes narrowed, burning with hate. CEM had turned a happy, healthy little girl into a cybernetic nightmare; she wasn’t about to forgive them for that, though she’d changed all their plans.

She’d turned every

enhancement they’d programmed into her against them, and used those implants to escape during a training operation. And she was doing just fine. Understatement of the century. Tori grinned to herself. She was the world’s best mercenary thief, with clients from all over the world bidding for her services. And she’d landed a real beauty of a deal this time. Four months ago, she’d received an e-mail from a client who identified himself only as “Hardwire.” He’d fed her curiosity big time with his description of hidden rooms and failsafe security systems. He wanted a disc; but apparently not just any disc, considering the price he was willing to pay for it. He’d

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described, in detail, the orb-like container the disc and its reader were stored in; he wanted that orb, and he claimed it would take the best to get it. The best. That was her. Tori stretched with another cocky grin. She’d sent back that she’d do it – for a hundred million Euros. She had to be sure he wasn’t a crackpot, after all, and crackpots usually folded when they saw that price. This guy hadn’t blinked; not even at her demand of half up front, hers to keep no matter what. She’d had her money by the end of the business day, and been officially hired. She staked out Bon Dauphin for a month, casing their security measures, their floor plans, how busy the building was at various times of the day and night, and verifying the location of her target. Then she ran her simulations of the heist in her loft workshop. She prepared for months. She was ready. Which didn’t explain why she was hesitating, Tori realized with a frown. Something about this whole job brought back the tight, panicky feeling her nightmares of Mary Halloway’s School for the Gifted always caused. She felt trapped, and uneasy. “Get a grip, girl,” she muttered to herself as she activated her Self-Commanded Incline Descent System – or SCIDS, as it was commonly known – with a series of taps from her fingers to the palm of the glove on her left hand and drew a deep breath as she stepped up to the edge of the building, balancing there on the balls of her feet. She glanced up at the full moon, feeling its cool steadiness envelop her, and closed her eyes as she slipped over the edge and into the shadow of darkness. Though I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death…second-story thief’s prayer. True, SCIDS made the job of scaling buildings easier. It replaced the guesswork of standard rappelling rigs, and the fear of being blown off mark by strong winds. It took the fear out of relying on what amounted to a thin piece of nylon that could fray or loosen. The SCIDS was a set of tiny nanocomputers that attached to the soles of regular street shoes and were also embedded in a pair of special gloves that fit tight to the palms of the hands. Simple Morse code activated, deactivated, and controlled the signal of the computers, allowing a free range of movement along vertical or semi-vertical surfaces. Tori held her breath as she felt the tiny rows of clamps moving in slow cycles between her palms and the stone wall. SCIDS provided its own set of dangers, of course, with none of the backups traditional rappelers always used. If the clamping mechanism seized up, the climber was left stuck to the climbing surface, clamped in place by titatone jaws. Releasing the gloves wasn’t an option, unless you had a death wish. And electricity, of course, was a big problem, with SCIDS. Accidentally brush against a power box or live line, and kiss life good-bye, because if you weren’t electrocuted, you’d plunge to your death. Then there was the power supply problem. The miniature battery packs needed to power the SCIDS had a life of only a few hours, before needing replacement or recharging.

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Tori drew a deep breath, shaking off her musings. She needed to focus on her job, not the reliability of her equipment, or she’d lose her edge, and her reputation along with it. And, on the streets, your rep was your biggest trade commodity. As she crawled to a stop beside the window of the east fifteenth floor where the wrist-strapped epad map indicated her target was located, Tori drew a shallow breath and released the clamps of one gloved hand, tensing her muscles to compensate for the redistribution of weight, and slid open the static lock of her dark bodysuit’s jacket pocket. Cautiously, she withdrew a small device the size of her hand. It was long and slim, with a series of small lights and dials along it. A MOPE. She grinned wryly as she murmured, “Never leave home without it.” The pulselocks that had replaced key locks in houses and businesses used magnetic clamps with timed-rotation electrical pulses that were deactivated using microchip signals embedded in plastic keycards. Without the keycard, the locks were impossible to pick – unless the thief doing the picking had a Magnetic Override Pulse Emitter; and not very many did, or knew how to use them if they had the access. Tori grinned. Being bred as a cybernetic assassin had some advantages – like learning to use sophisticated Global Security Sector equipment. She liberated her MOPE from a supposedly secure Operational Readiness/Intelligence On Nations installation six years ago, making her life as a thief a hell of a lot easier, and giving the ORION security experts fits in the process. Activating the MOPE by aligning the correct series of dials until the right combination of lights illuminated, she ran it over the seam of the sliding window, and smiled in satisfaction as she heard the soft hiss of the lock disengaging. Oh, yeah; this was way too easy. That thought brought back the knotting sensation of something not right to her gut. So far, she’d seen not a hint of the security measures supposedly in place. Glancing into the dark room, she saw no telltale lights indicating a security system of any kind in operation. Her sixth sense for inconsistencies prickling her scalp, she let herself in through the now open window cautiously, alert for hidden traps. Dropping lightly to the floor with her feet spread for balance and silence, she clenched her left hand in one long press, deactivating the SCIDS. Tucking her MOPE back into her pocket, she stilled, listening for any sound of supposedly “silent” alarms. Only, Tori knew there was no such thing as a silent alarm – even the quietest of them emitted a signal that was simply outside of normal hearing range. But not her hearing range with its nanotech enhancements. Nothing. That eerie feeling was crawling closer to her brain, making her feel the first twinges of real panic. So far, a rookie thief could have made this heist. Why would anyone pay her prices for such an easy job?

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Her dark eyes swept the interior of the room again, focusing more intently. It was empty of personal effects. Or, at least, made to look that way. Pristinely made bed, precisely arranged furniture… It looked like it’d never been inhabited. But her nanotechnologically enhanced eyes settled on the faint, darker lines of the paneling seam on the left-hand wall. The panels there didn’t fit as tightly as the rest. Moving cautiously, she crossed the room to the secret door. Who would build a secret door in a hotel room? Brow furrowing, she ran searching fingers along the joint, looking for the catch. There’d be no pulselocks on a hidden door. Whoever had made it would want better security… Ah, there it was. Tori grinned as the edge of her fingers caught on a slightly wider than normal gap in the seam. Oldest trick in the book. God, couldn’t these people come up with an original catch mechanism? Slipping her fingers in, she pressed down, and felt the mechanism pop, before the door sprang wide. Spring loaded, even. Damn; those had gone out of use back in the twentieth century. That crawling sensation of something not right was back, and stronger. No security specs for the hotel online, no motion detectors on the roof, no alarms on the windows, and now a spring-loaded hidden door with no alarms or booby traps? This was getting freakily easy. Tori sucked in a sharp breath and shoved the thought aside.

Doubt spelled hesitance, and

hesitance was a burglar’s death sentence. She had a job to do. Slinking into the smaller room, her eyes scanned the bare walls and the room’s only contents. A large, sequence-coded, state-of-the-art Batemor safe. Punch one number or letter of the code wrong, and not only did the safe dial an emergency alarm number, but it delivered an electrical jolt capable of stunning anyone in physical contact. More than one burglar had ended their careers due to a Batemor. Normally, Batemor security systems provided Tori just the challenge she craved from her work. Of course, normally she had to work out the schematics and codes for herself, or with the help of her friend, Jake. Now, she sighed as she punched in a command on her epad and watched the necessary access code pop up like magic. Jobs like this one made her feel more like a whore than a thief. What a totally depressing thought. With a dark scowl, Tori turned her total concentration on the safe. She’d hash out the rest of her uneasy questions later. Fifteen numbers, in rapid succession, and Tori let out her breath in a disgusted sigh as the safe beeped and opened. No challenge. This job sucked. With another sigh, she reached into the safe to claim her prize. Drawing it out, she stopped, gasping, as something in her clicked, and she felt a tingling sensation at the base of her skull. She recognized this! How, and from where, she had no clue, but something in her knew she’d seen an orb just like this one, somewhere. It was roughly the size of a grapefruit, nestled in the palm of her hand with a warmth that made it appear alive. In the dark confines of the safe, it had shone a dull, burnished color, and she’d believed it

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was bronze; some kind of antique. However, as soon as it came in contact with her skin, it began to pulse a clear, deep red. Tori sucked in a sharp breath. Holy shit, she could feel it pulsing, as if it was connecting to her heart and brain—. She nearly dropped the thing as fear rushed through her, and that tingling awareness at the base of her skull grew, until it was buzzing like crazy. She cringed as a high, shrill squeal shot through her head, making her want to cover her ears even though a part of her knew that the sound wasn’t in her ears; it was reverberating around in her head. The pulsing orb shifted, clicked, and sprang open. The screeching stopped so abruptly that Tori’s ears rang and her head swam. Great. Now she had a splitting headache, and she still had a long descent to the alley. Grimacing, she looked at the orb, and all breath fled her lungs as fear kick-started her pulse. The damned thing had opened up; all on its own! She swallowed as she watched the halves split, revealing the disc her client wanted so badly. The disc was the size of an old American quarter, and gleamed silver-red in the light of the orb. Okay, so now she was both freaked out and in deep shit. Her client had specifically instructed her not to touch the orb directly. Well, he – or she, for all Tori knew – hadn’t said what to do if she accidentally touched it, or if it opened itself. Now, if she could just get the damned thing closed, so she could put it in her pouch— The orb snapped shut with enough force that it literally jumped in Tori’s hand, causing her to jump as well, her pulse hammering. She was freaking going out of her mind. There was no way she just saw what she had. The orb lay sedately in her palm, the glow dimmed and no longer pulsing. It looked almost exactly as it had lying in the safe. Tori drew deep, steadying breaths as she stuffed the orb into her carry-pouch, snugged around her trim waist. This was one item she’d be only too glad to part ways with; the faster, the better. Still, as she made her way out the window and down the outside wall to the alley, Tori’s uneasiness nagged her. There were so many questions – too many – about this heist that she wanted answered. And she couldn’t help the eerie feeling that handing over this orb and disc without knowing what was on it would be the biggest mistake of her entire life.

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CHAPTER TWO

The door buzzer rang again, and Tori bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet. “C’mon.” There was a thud, and then muffled swearing – colorful and in French – that brought a wry grin to her face, before the door opened. A head of tousled blonde hair emerged and wary green eyes blinked at her. “Oui?” He gaped as he realized who was there, causing Tori’s grin to widen. “Tor! For the love of…” He muttered something under his breath as he opened the door wide. “Why didn’t you just use your keycard, damn it?” “Rise and shine, sweetcheeks,” she grinned as she breezed past him, giving him a playful swat on his jeans-encased rear as she did. Jake had a great ass – she knew that from personal experience. “Fall asleep at your computer again?” “Tor…” Tori winced at the censure in his gravelly, accented voice. It was a rare occasion when Jake sounded like that. Usually, Jacques Pellier – known to the world of elite hackers as Jake – was the most laid-back guy she knew. A comfortable friend and a comfortable lover for a woman like her, who wasn’t into attachments. Jake’s first – and only, that Tori knew of – love was his wide collection of computer equipment and electronic systems. She bit back a grin; yeah, Jake had a major hard-on for hardware. “Got a hot date tucked away somewhere?” She asked innocently, grinning into his set features and hard green eyes. He sighed heavily, and the tension fell away. “So, are you ever planning on answering my question, princesse?” She shrugged. “Didn’t have it on me.” He eyed her dark, nearly skintight outfit – what he called her “heist wear” – and a smirk slid over his lips. “So, use the MOPE.”

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She flicked him a glance. “You know my rule, Jake. Never—” “Use your gear against a friend.” He shook his head and sighed again. “So, what brings you here straight off a job?” Tori yawned, plopping down into one of Jake’s ergonomically-constructed, comfortably padded chairs. She blinked tiredly; she could go to sleep right here, she was so drained. Absently, she fiddled with the jade tiger pendant around her neck – a gift from her friend, Electra Monroe. “You’re my sanity, Jake.” “Thanks.” He looked dubious. “I think.” “I did the Hardwire job tonight,” she murmured sleepily, and then frowned, as her mind played hazily over the events, and all her questions about the job came back with a vengeance. Her hand closed over the pendant, seeking comfort and courage. Jake settled into his normal seat at the computer station, his gaze focused solemnly on Tori. That concerned expression brought a weary smile to Tori’s face; it was nice to know she had friends like Jake. He cared. It wasn’t anything romantic – they shared a friendship that made romance laughable. Sure, they’d slept together in the past – and probably would again at some point in the future. It was their habit, when they were both between lovers and one or the other had “the itch.” But sex with Jake wasn’t tender or life altering, and it wasn’t something she couldn’t walk away from at any time. It was simply…fun. Their friendship had always come first. Jake, four years her senior, had taken Tori in when she first hit the streets, a bitter, angry fifteen-year-old. He taught her how to survive, and gained a special place in Tori’s heart, shared by only a select few. “Tor?” The gentle concern in Jake’s voice pulled Tori back from her musing. God, she was getting sentimental tonight. Probably the effects of sleep depravation, she decided with another yawn. “Something go wrong with the job?” She looked up, met his eyes, and felt all her questions descend again. Rubbing her forehead, where she was fighting the remnants of her earlier headache as well as weariness, she shook her head slowly. God, she was so tired… “No, it was easy.” “So what’s the problem?” She met his green eyes again, with a growing feeling of dread knotting in her stomach. “That is the problem, Jake. It was too easy. A rookie could have done the job, blindfolded.” He quirked her a grin she’d long ago labeled “Jake’s evil child,” and leaned back in his seat. “And now I see the problem. My little Astoria’s out of sorts because her big score wasn’t challenging enough. Didn’t get your juices pumping, eh?”

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She shot him a scowl. “I’m not your little anything, Jacques, and it wasn’t the lack of challenge. I got that feeling again.” He snapped forward, his eyes suddenly intently clear. “Like the Protoware heist?” “Yeah.” She slumped in her seat, toying with her necklace again. She didn’t really want to tell him the rest, now. Protoware had scared the shit out of her usually unruffable friend. Hell, it scared the shit out of her; the first time she ever felt that uneasy sense that something wasn’t right about a job. Protoware had been a set-up. Someone had tried to kill her, four months ago, in that empty warehouse. They still hadn’t figured out who. “What happened?” Jake’s soft query was demanding in its intensity. She jerked out a shrug, fighting the images and questions that assaulted her weary mind, and that damned buzzing she kept hearing… She scowled. It was getting majorly annoying. “The job was a breeze. I went in from the roof, as planned. No cameras, no security measures at all. The window locks weren’t even alarmed.” He was listening, a frown marring his face. “And?” “The room looked like it had never been used. But I found a secret door, with a spring-loaded sliding panel. There was a Batemor safe in there.” Jake swore, whirling to face his computers as long, artistically tapered fingers flew over the keyboard. “Why didn’t you come to me for the code cracker?” “I didn’t need to.” His fingers halted on the keys. Jake went deadly still. “Why not?” “Hardwire supplied the safe’s code.” “What?” Jake’s chair went flying backward as he whirled toward her again, so fast her aching head spun. “Okay, I’m not following this. This Hardwire guy e-mails you through the bid board, asks you to do this really big score, sends you the location – exactly – of the safe, and supplies the code for the safe, as well. And he’s paying you how much?” “A hundred million Euros.” “Jesu sucré! Why?” She shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea. Right now, I have bigger problems.” “Like what?” She unstrapped her belly pouch and carefully dumped the orb onto the low table between them, her black eyes wary. “Like what to do with that.” He blinked. “What to do with it? Tor, you stole that for this Hardwire. You send it along and forget you ever saw the damned thing, like you do with every other job.”

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“Jake,” she managed through the fear clogging her throat. “I can’t even touch the freaking thing. Last time I did, some really weird shit happened.” He frowned, glancing between her face and the innocuous-looking ball. Stretching out his hand, he reached for the orb, and Tori sucked in a breath, waiting tensely, as her fingers clenched around the charm at her neck. Jake’s hand closed over the orb, lifting it easily from the table. It remained a still, burnished object, and Jake’s eyes were worried when they met hers. “I think you need a vacation, princesse.” “I don’t understand. I saw it with my own…” She plucked the orb from his hand, and a gasp escaped her as the orb sprung to life again. “Eyes.” She dropped the orb back on the table, her eyes flying up to meet Jake’s as the orb settled back as if it’d never moved. There was fear in his eyes now. “All right. So now I’m freaked. What is that thing, and why does it only respond to you?” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know. There’s a disc inside, and I was hoping you could help me figure out what’s on it.” He was nodding slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “And your client? What are you going to tell him?” The first hint of a grin played at her lips. “Can I use your computer?” He chuckled. “Don’t ask much, do you?” She cocked a brow at him, and her grin widened. “C’mon, Jake. I can’t do this from my epad, or he’s going to know.” “All right,” he returned her grin, reaching out to grasp her chair and give it a push toward the station. “Just be gentle.” She grinned impishly, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Always am.” He laughed as he rose, stretching out a set of abs and pecs more than one woman had drooled over in the past. Yeah, he was a hottie; but there must be something wrong with her because, even after going to bed with him, she felt nothing for Jake beyond the warm glow of friendship. More’s the pity. She was convinced she wasn’t made for chemistry, or lust; and she’d never believed in love. She’d never felt even the slightest urge she couldn’t totally control. “While you stall your employer, I’m going to hit the shower, princesse.” He dropped an easy, friendly kiss on her silky, raven-wing hair. “Behave.” With that, Jake sauntered off, leaving Tori to call up her bid board e-mail. She drew a deep breath as her fingers paused over the keyboard. She had to handle this delicately; she couldn’t let even a hint of the fact that she’d actually retrieved the item leak through. Calling up her bidder account, she typed in a cautious response to her “employer” that she was unable to provide the item at this time, and would send a

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message as soon as she could assemble the goods. As she was shutting down, she noticed her bid board IM was flashing. One click and she gasped. I’m watching you. Her eyes flew to the identification bar. Blank. Whoever this was, he had a sophisticated blocker, to hide himself from Jake’s system. Anger surged up, replacing fear. Who are you? A friend. Who? Don’t open the orb. She sucked in a sharp breath. How did he know? What orb? Don’t open it. Why not? Dangerous. Who ARE you? All this cryptic bullshit was annoying her. EyesUp. The “receiving file” button flashed on the epad still attached to her wrist. Tapping it, she found herself staring at a recorded camera feed, angled from somewhere above the ground, at the east side of the Bon Dauphin. Right at her. Tori sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes flying back to the IM terminal. How had he – somehow, she never doubted her mysterious “friend” was male – gotten that footage? Bon Dauphin didn’t have any external cameras. She’d checked. What do you want? Don’t open the orb. “Too late,” Tori muttered, darting a wary glance toward the object in question. What is it? No response. EyesUp – whoever he was – was gone. “God damn it.” “Are you swearing at my baby, Blair?”

Jake’s warm, strong hands fell on her shoulders,

massaging the tension that radiated through her. “You’ll give her a complex.” She leaned her head comfortably against his bare, soap-scented abs, and sighed. “I need to get into that disc, Jake.” His hands stopped, and she felt him tense. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, princesse?” “No,” she admitted bluntly, breaking his grasp as she spun her chair around, folding her long, slim legs up onto the seat as she tilted her head to regard him. Jake always looked sexiest straight from the shower, in faded blue jeans. Any normal woman would be having palpitations by now. Tori just felt the warm comfort of Jake. She bit back a wry grin at her dysfunctional libido and returned her attention to the orb on the low table a few steps away. “There’s something on that disc that’s worth a hundred million

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Euros to someone. And now,” she jerked her thumb toward the still-open IM box, “it’s making me new, anonymous friends. Jake, I can’t give up that disc without some idea of why it’s so important.” He sighed and shifted her away enough, chair and all, to slide his own seat back into place. Dropping into his chair, he shoved a lock of damp blonde hair from his face and shot her a small grin. “All right, princesse. You open that thing up, and we’ll see what secrets it’s keeping.”

Five minutes later, Jake sat back from his computer station with a low whistle and a muttered oath. “I think we’re both in very big trouble, princesse.” Tori frowned, rising from her seat and moving to lean over his shoulder and study the lines of computer code on the screen. She knew a little about computer codes, but this was intricate in a way that went clear over her head. She was a safecracker, not a hacker. “Why?” He reached out to tap the interactive screen in three places, enlarging the lines in each place. “These are really sophisticated program codes, Easter-egged in an executable file.

Really clever,

actually.” She frowned at him in warning. “Jake…” “I could break into this disc, princesse,” he said with a shrug. “In fact, it’s not passcoded, so it would hardly be breaking in.” “But?” He looked up at her, his green eyes grim. “But if I open this disc, no one else will ever be able to use it. Those commands activate some kind of scrambling or internal viral program. All the data on the disc would be so corrupted, even an elite hacker wouldn’t be able to gain access again.” She sighed. Of course. “You’re saying that this is a one-read-only disc.” He nodded. “One of the best encrypted ones I’ve ever seen. It’s almost unreal.” “Then I’m screwed.” A grin spread slowly over his face, and he winked at her. “Not necessarily, although that’s certainly a unique payment proposition.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Get to the point, Pellier.” He laughed. “Fortunately for you, you have a genius – and a very forgiving one, I might add – for a friend.” She smirked. “With a healthy ego to match.” Jake’s grin widened. “No ego involved, cherie. I know how to circumvent that coding, by making a special copy, bypassing the program coding. We’ll make a copy that can be opened many times, which will be of more value to your client. Then we’ll pop open the original and have a look-see.”

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She wrapped her arms around him and hugged, planting a grateful kiss right on his lips. “I take it back; you are a genius!” He chuckled again, his fingers already flying over the screens and keys, and Tori dropped back into her own seat, to watch a master at work.

An hour later, Tori had a sinking sensation she knew exactly what the mysterious EyesUp had been trying to tell her. Staring at the lines of formulaic text flowing across the screen, she fought back the horror that rushed though her, even as she heard Jake’s muttered oath of disbelief. “We are in so much trouble.” “Yeah,” Tori managed, feeling as if her chest was in a vise grip. She recognized that formula! Jake glanced up at her, and concern flashed in his green eyes. “You okay, Tor?” She nodded numbly, before one shaking finger rose to point at the screen. “Remember when I told you about that school I ran away from because I was being used as a guinea pig by CEM?” “Yeah,” he acknowledged in a slow, wary drawl. “That’s the same experimental protocol. Well…almost. It’s the nanotechnology protocol to build super-soldiers and assassins. Except,” she frowned as she studied the lines of formula. “I think there’s something different. The symbols look different.” “How so?” She sank back into her seat, closing her eyes and rubbing her face wearily. She felt wired, and yet so exhausted she was sure she’d collapse any second. “I’m not sure. I’m too tired to think straight right now.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Damn, I need a scientist to read this.” There was no response. After a long moment of silence, Tori opened her eyes to find Jake regarding her warily. “What?” “Tor, this isn’t a game. Someone was willing to pay a lot of money for this disc. Now’s the time when you deliver the copy, and walk the hell away, while you’re still alive.” He was right, of course. But she couldn’t do it. Not the way she usually did. “I should deliver it personally.” “Tori…” “No,” she contradicted his unspoken chastisement, shaking her head as she rose and began pacing in the small living room. “I’m not playing it safe or ignorant this time, Jake. No one would want this formula for any good reasons I can think of. I want to look into the face of the man who’s willing to pay a fortune for it, before I hand over the means to torture anyone the way I was tortured as a child.”

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He watched her for a long moment, his eyes assessing, before he sighed heavily. “All right. So what do you want to do?” Tori’s pace quickened, even as her brain kicked into higher gear. She needed an excuse, a reason to draw her mystery client to her. She couldn’t just demand a face-to-face exchange. From the tone of his e-mail, she had the feeling this guy knew everything there was to know about her, and that meant he knew she had a rep for keeping all associations at arm’s length. If she demanded a meeting, he’d smell trap a mile away. No; she would have to pique his interest, and make him come to her. “Jake, hit all the barter sites and bid boards. Put up this ad: ‘T-Bird to auction off recent acquisition. One of a kind technology. Starting bids at one hundred million Euros. Bring bids to auction in New York City. Time and location of auction to be announced.’ That should get his attention.” Jake cast her a wary look, even as his fingers flew, message boxes popping up all over his screen array as he uploaded her ad. “Or get you killed. Do you have any idea who you’re playing these hideand-seek games with?” She grinned impishly. “Not a clue. That’s what makes the whole deal interesting.” “I always knew you were certifiable,” he muttered with a disbelieving groan. Then, after a moment, he sat back from his computers with a sigh. “Well, it’s done. I just hope you know what you’re doing, princesse.” She scooped up the orb with her pouch, refastened it around her waist, sealing the static lock, and slid the disc Jake handed her into the inside pocket of her jacket, sealing that as well. Leaning over, she gave Jake a warm kiss, and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Jake. I’m a big girl, now.” Then, before he could voice the caution in his eyes, Tori let herself out of his apartment and headed for the street, trying to ignore the steadily growing buzz in the back of her head. Adrenaline pumped through her, energizing her; it had to be from this new challenge. She couldn’t wait to see what her trap netted. Maybe then, she’d be able to figure out who the mysterious EyesUp was.

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CHAPTER THREE

Tori grinned as she wove her way through the crowds of partygoers. Yeah, Paris was still in full swing for party-time, even at three in the morning. As exhausted as she was, Tori could still appreciate Paris’ never-say-die attitude toward partying. The clubs that never closed were part of what she loved most about this city – proof of the unabashed way these people knew how to have a good time. She yawned as she turned up the alley that led to the fire escape access she always used to get into her loft. She was ready to fall into bed and sleep like tomorrow wasn’t coming… Tori stopped dead as she felt that prickle of awareness that told her someone was watching her. She tensed, tuning her ears to the darkness around her. There… In the shadows to her right, she could make out shallow, controlled breathing and two…no, wait, three accelerated heartbeats. Mobilized by the realization that someone was after her, Tori sprinted for the fire escape, knowing that she could raise it out of reach once she got past the first floor. She wasn’t about to get caught. She heard heavy, booted feet pounding behind her as she splashed through the puddles toward freedom and a part of her catalogued those sounds. Military. Shit. What the hell did the Global Security Sector want with her? She wasn’t about to hang around and find out. Her hands reached for the ladder, catching onto the first rung as she leapt up. She felt hands – big, beefy and powerful; yeah, definitely military – crush around her ankle, and her heart roared in her ears. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs, and her chest burned with a mingling of fear and exhaustion. God, this was not what she needed tonight. Tori kicked out angrily with both feet, hard, and heard a satisfying crunch, followed by sudden freedom. Triumph rushed through her, and Tori scrambled up the escape until she reached the first platform. She turned to pull the lever that would raise the escape, and jerked as she felt something impact the back of her neck. The world spun.

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Aw, shit. They had neuro-blockers. Stumbling, she lost her balance and tumbled off the edge of the platform toward the muddy alley below as her mind went numb. She hit the ground hard, jarring her back into complete awareness, and she groaned at the pain that flared through her body. Fifteen foot drops, she didn’t recommend. Lifting her head, she saw the three men approaching, their expressions menacing. They were all bruisers, dressed in street clothes, and one – presumably the one she’d kicked – had a bloodied face. Breathing harshly through a chest that still hurt from impact, Tori tried to rise, and groaned as pain lanced through her side. Damn. She gritted her teeth against the pain, aware that giving in to it right now meant becoming these monsters’ victim. And if there was one thing Tori Blair refused to ever be again, it was a victim. Forcing herself to her feet in spite of the pain, she scoped out the possible escape routes. The fire escape was out now. No way she could jump fifteen feet with the pain she felt at the moment. She could use the SCIDS to climb the wall…a twinge of pain caught her unaware, nearly doubling her over. Scratch that. She wouldn’t be climbing anything with this pain; she’d kill herself for sure if she did. Running was her only option, then. Except… She swore under her breath. She’d picked her loft in this building for a reason. It was a dead end alley on a largely unpopulated street; meaning there was no one to see her, or know where she really lived. At the moment, however, it also meant that her only egress was through these guys. Tori’s face set in determination. Fine; if that was her only option, she could do it. She’d been in worse jams before. Forcing herself into a casual stance, her limbs loose and fluid, she cocked them a smug grin. “If you guys are looking for a fuck, you’re in the wrong place. Cleopat’s is two streets over.” The one with the broken nose scowled. “Don’t play cute with us, Blair. Just give us the orb.” It didn’t surprise her that they knew her name. She’d already pegged them as GSS. Probably ORION. Hell, like she cared. “So, I give you the orb, and you walk away, all peaceable like, and leave me be?” Tori snorted a laugh. “Now why don’t I believe that?” With reflexes honed by years of pushing her limits, and enhanced by nanotechnology, Tori dove directly at the men. The move clearly surprised them. Good. Tori scrambled to her feet, laughing, behind them. But the laugh was on her. She barely took a step when a big hand closed around her throat from behind, halting her flight as the air choked off in her lungs. Eyes widening as fear flooded her, Tori struggled to free herself, clawing with her hands and kicking with her feet as he lifted her from the ground. Hands were reaching in from all around, and her panic escalated. Someone loosened the belly pouch from around her waist at the same instant Tori’s flailing feet connected solidly with her assailant’s groin. He groaned and dropped her as he doubled over.

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Free, Tori wasted no time scrambling toward the open end of the alley. Let them have the damned orb, if they had such a hard-on for it. The disc in it didn’t work anymore, anyway. Panting, Tori stopped at the street corner, leaning against a building for support as her side protested the exertion with screaming pain. God, those guys had been impossibly strong… Tori’s head snapped up, and a harsh gasp left her aching throat. Impossibly strong; and they knew she had the orb. She swallowed, wincing at the pain in her throat. That let out GSS. There was only one organization that sent thugs to retrieve nanotech information and devices that weren’t supposed to exist – ORION. Operational Readiness/Intelligence On Nations was a government agency that made everything dealing with nanotechnology their business; Tori’d learned all about them in the same files she’d learned about her “programming” in, back at Mary Halloway’s School for the Gifted. Tori scowled. If ORION was after the nanotech on that disc, she knew it was for no good purpose. They’d clearly kill whomever they had to, to get— Tori gasped, her eyes flying wide. Jake! She had to warn Jake! Ignoring the pain that seared her chest and side, Tori raced toward Jake’s building. Air burned in her lungs, and her body protested every jarring footstep, but fear and adrenaline pushed her on. Jake had seen the disc, too. That made her friend a target. She turned the corner onto Jake’s street, and was thrown backward by a concussion blast that blew out windows all along the street. Impacting the corner of a building hard, Tori groaned, and felt tiny, sharp bits of glass scrape across her face before she dropped to her knees and covered her head. Raising her head a moment later, Tori stared in horror at the raging inferno that had been Jake’s building. Numbness descended over her as she watched the rubble settle and, from a distance, heard the approaching sirens. It was already too late, Tori knew. Her numbness turned to cold, hard rage, and her hands closed in trembling fists as she rose to her feet. ORION had stolen the life of her friend. She would see to it that they paid for this, in blood.

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CHAPTER FOUR

He couldn’t believe this. With a muttered oath of frustration, Marcos Devante paced to the window of his sixty-fifth floor New York office, yanking at the confining tie around his neck. “Tell me this is a joke,” he demanded of his assistant, Merril Jenkins. “Wish I could,” she said in her brusque, all-business tone, tinged with just a hint of regret. Merril was the most loyal woman in Marcos’ life, aside from his mother. At nearly seventy, Merril refused to retire, claiming that Marcos would be lost in his office without her. She was probably right. He certainly wouldn’t know what was going on in his research facilities without Merril’s daily updates. Marcos swore again, and heard Merril clear her throat in disapproval. “If this is a joke, Mr. Devante, it’s one heck of a sick one. The Screamer prototype wasn’t even fully tested.” He turned toward her, his eyes narrowed. “And we’re sure it’s missing?” A small, tight smile flickered at her untinted lips. “Most definitely.” Marcos turned back to the window, scowling as he studied his reflection in the glass. His olivebrown eyes were dark with rage, and his tanned complexion was blanched with the tension that radiated in him. His thin lips drew taut in disgust. Damn it, how could this happen? Minos Enterprises was his company, and he damned well made it his business to know everything that went on inside of it! He personally screened every employee he hired. Hell, even his mother and Merril knew he had trust issues. They’d been there for the fallout from Elena. Marcos closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He’d promised himself he wasn’t revisiting that old ground, again. Elena was ancient history now, even if her betrayal still stung from time to time. “Find out what happened,” he dismissed Merril brusquely, even as the small St. Michael’s medallion around his neck began to glow. Reaching into his suit coat, he withdrew a compact phone and flipped it open, activating the signal. Lifting it to his ear, he barked, “Devante.”

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“Bad time at the palace, Minos?” The laid-back drawl from the other end of the line had Marcos slumping into his chair with a frustrated sigh. “Disaster’s more the word for it. What’s going on now, Archer?” “You tell me. T-Bird’s back in town.” Marcos jerked up straight. “Son of a—” “I take it that means something to you.” “Yeah.” Marcos’ brain ran through a quick mental calculation. The security protocols around the research lab had made him think the theft was an inside job. However, those same security measures were just the kind of challenge the infamous T-Bird was known to take on. “The Screamer’s gone missing.” Archer muttered an oath that made Marcos’s lips flicker in one of his rare smiles. “My thoughts exactly. Any idea why T-Bird’s in New York?” “According to the encrypted message on the bid board, our favorite world-class thief’s got one-ofa-kind technology to auction off.” Fury boiled in Marcos. He had no tolerance for thieves, or lawbreakers of any kind. “Get me in on that auction, Archer.” There was a pause. “What are you planning to do, Marcos?” Marcos spun his chair toward his computer, already bringing up his messaging program. “I’m going to get my Screamer back.” And he knew just who to get to help him. To catch a thief, he needed to use a thief.

***

Her epad was beeping. Glancing down at the screen as she secured the last of the hidden cameras in the divided warehouse she set up for this sham of an auction, Tori nearly fell off her perch on the cross beam. Let’s make a deal. Her mystery date from Paris appeared to have returned. Hmm. Slithering down the support beam that connected to the concrete floor, Tori settled cross-legged on an empty crate and released the keypad lock on the miniature computer. What kind of deal?

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Her eyes narrowed as she waited. Did he already know the auction was a set-up? If so, then her list of possibilities narrowed for the identity of EyesUp. Only, the person who’d sent those two thugs knew she no longer had the orb. 215 East 49th Street. 2200 hours. Tomorrow. She sucked in a sharp breath. That was the auction meet-up! Still, she couldn’t let on that she knew anything about it. There was a chance he didn’t know. What’s that? An auction. Well, that shot it. He knew. Tori scowled at the epad screen. Whoever this guy was, he knew too damned much for comfort. It was like he knew her every move before she even made one; either that, or he was following her closer than her own damned shadow. She huffed out a disgusted breath, and typed, What do you want? I want you to steal something. Interesting. What? The gear being auctioned. Tori frowned. Gear? That was a strange term, for a man who’d already admitted he knew she stole the orb. And if he wanted her to steal it… She nearly laughed out loud. He didn’t know she was the auctioneer! He thought T-Bird was someone else, maybe even with something else for auction! She could use that. How much are you paying for the job? Your freedom. “Son of a bitch!” The oath hissed out between Tori’s teeth as she recalled the video clip he’d played her. The bastard was trying to blackmail her into this job! You’re bluffing. Do you really want to find out? She snorted a laugh. You don’t even know where to find me. Look out the door. Tori glanced out the open door of the warehouse, and swore as she saw the long, black landtrans directly across the street. The rear window of the vehicle was down, and she could just make out the shadowy lines of a man’s face, turned as if he was looking directly at her. She shivered. Funny, she could almost feel his eyes boring into her. Adrenaline shot through her, chased along by fear. It was impossible! No one was supposed to know about the warehouse; she’d arranged for the bidders to arrive at a hotel on 49th street. She intended

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to bring them here in a secured vehicle, where they wouldn’t know each other’s identities or, more importantly, hers. Who are you? She tapped furiously into the keypad. Why are you following me? Get the gear. Then we’ll talk. The window on the landtrans rolled smoothly closed, and the vehicle lifted off from the street. Glancing at her epad as it beeped again, she saw his final, flashing message, and it chilled her to the core. I’ll be watching you.

Tori was still replaying the whole unnerving conversation the next evening as she sat at the bar of the Wyatt Hotel, toying anxiously with the jade pendant around her neck. It was EyesUp in that landtrans. She was sure of it. She had no idea what he wanted, but it had something to do with the orb, and that made her nervous. Whoever he was, he clearly didn’t work for ORION, or he’d already know the orb was gone. So who was he, and why was he following her? “Bourbon. Extra ice.” Something about that deep, whiskey-smooth voice shot a prickle of awareness straight through Tori. Maybe it was the cultured, husky tone, or the accent, flavored with the lilt of South American mystery. Whatever it was, it caused Tori’s gaze to lift from her beer, and she sucked in a breath as her eyes widened. Marcos Devante. The Marcos Devante. She couldn’t believe it. A wry grin slipped over Tori’s face as she ducked her head, pretending to be interested solely in her beer. Through lowered lashes, she cast curious glances at the man nearest her. Marcos Devante was someone she’d always wondered about. He was hard-edged and yet fair, according to what she read about him, and he had serious trust issues, to judge by what she saw with her own eyes. She cased Minos Enterprises a couple of times in the past year for jobs she ended up turning down. Tori thrived on a challenge, sure; but she wasn’t suicidal, and that man definitely knew the meaning of the term “secure facility.” He was a devil about his security measures, and the failsafes he had in place were impressive, to say the least. She decided that the rewards of stealing anything from Minos Enterprises weren’t worth the risks of getting caught, or the prices her clients had been willing to pay. Curiosity wound through her as she studied the man two seats away, his unsmiling attention focused on the epad in his hands. He was very different in person from the public relations his company spieled about him. The PR claimed he was innovative and open to the new frontiers in nanotechnology. There was plenty of mention of his lifestyle in those PR-driven articles, too, and they pumped Devante up as some kind of playboy. Funny; he didn’t look anything like that. The man seated near her had a face so shuttered that she couldn’t read a single thought or emotion in his expression. Even his body language

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radiated a closed-off nature and lack of trust that she found intriguing. Had the man ever smiled a day in his life? Instead of laying his epad on the bar, where it would have been easier for him to work at, he was turned facing the open bar, and the door, as if he expected to be attacked from behind. Interesting. She wondered what a man like Marcos Devante had to fear in a hotel bar, and why he didn’t employ bodyguards, if he was so concerned about his welfare. After all, he could more than afford the peace of mind. Then again, he had the closed-off air of a man who enjoyed his privacy. He certainly didn’t fit the mold of a playboy. Her eyes slid over the hand-tailored suit of dark, pinstripe material that, when combined with his olive complexion, made him look every bit the old-fashioned mobster. A blue silk tie and dark shoes, so polished she could have applied make-up – if she ever wore any – in them, completed the picture, and she wryly wondered if she should be looking for a violin case. A flash of light caught her eye, and she nearly laughed. Totally incongruous with the whole scowling mob boss image was the presence of a small religious medallion around his neck; the only sign of any jewelry she saw. Nor did he have the buffed-out look of a gym-bred physique. Devante had the wiry physique that came with hard work, all trim lines and smooth, muscular energy. Tori’s pulse kicked, surprising her. She wasn’t the reactive type when it came to men. She hardly ever even noticed them. Yet, something about Marcos Devante captured her attention, and made her pulse flutter. She frowned, her eyes narrowing as she studied him closer. Somehow, Devante didn’t seem comfortable in that suit, no matter how well he wore it. There was an undercurrent of unease in the set of his shoulders; as if he considered the suit a disguise. Closing her eyes, Tori pictured him, trying to see what it was that made him so uncomfortable. Her eyes nearly popped open in surprise when, instead of a suit and tie, she pictured him in old, worn jeans and a dark tshirt. Her breath hitched in her throat. Oh, yeah; he’d look a hell of a lot more comfortable covered in sawdust and sweat, bent over a woodworker’s bench. Tori’s eyes blinked open, and she couldn’t help running her eyes over him again. How had she pictured that? He looked spit and polished, and commanding. An authority figure like all the rest she despised. He had that austere attitude, and he fairly dripped money. Why on earth would he wear old jeans, or want to work with those perfectly manicured hands? Still, the image hung in her mind, and she knew there was more to it than fancy. She’d become adept at reading people, and something told her that what she was seeing of Marcos Devante here, in this bar, was as false a veneer as she’d ever seen. Devante had stern, almost severe features, thin lips that seemed set in a perpetual frown, and an aquiline nose that made his eyes seem more sunken, and arresting. Individually, and in any other face,

Desperate Measures those features would have been too severe, and unbalanced.

25 But in Devante, with his Hispanic

complexion and commanding presence, those features blended into a unique beauty that halted her heart mid-beat and made her blood heat in a way it never had before. A wry smile curved on her lips, as the irony of it hit her. She wanted to jump his bones. Her smile faltered. Jake would have laughed his ass off, to hear that rebellious Tori Blair wanted to jump in the sack with a straight-laced, conservative man; a rich, demanding authority type. It wasn’t ever going to happen, though. She wasn’t about to get entangled with authority, and she was smart enough to realize that they came from totally different ends of the social spectrum. Marcos Devante was the product of money, no matter how ill-gained, with all the poise and bearing of his class. And he was the founder and CEO of one of the world’s most prominent research companies, besides. He no doubt had standards when it came to women; probably classy, cultured women with larger bra sizes than their IQs. She, on the other hand, was a product of street life, and she despised anything remotely resembling authority. She made her money – comfortable, to be sure – through less than legal means, and she was damned proud of what she did. She’d made that money with her own skill and brains, and she wasn’t about to apologize for it to anyone. She was tactless, and knew curses that would make a sailor blush. There was nothing cultured or refined about her; she was all welltrained, fluid muscle and pure reflex, and she liked her simple lifestyle. Tori glanced down at her simple work shirt and jeans, and the wry grin spread wider as she considered the implications of having a bra size larger than her IQ. When she’d last been tested, at five, her IQ had topped 180. While she was no slouch in the breast department, her c-cup would never live up to the silicone bombshells Devante probably preferred. Still, for the chance to get an inside peek at Minos Enterprises’ security systems… A flicker of movement, reflected in the mirror behind the bar, banished any thought of seduction from her mind as her eyes lifted. Uh-oh. Even in those uniforms, she recognized the two bruisers who’d just entered the lounge. One of them still sported a bandage across the bridge of his nose. Her hand went automatically to her throat as her eyes scanned for escape routes. She spied the restroom door, and nearly grinned at the clichéd move. But, hey, sometimes the old ways were the best ones. Her gaze flickered back to the mirror. Good; they hadn’t noticed her yet. Tori started to ease off of the barstool; before she could rise completely, a voice said, “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” She flicked a surprised look at the man seated near her. He hadn’t moved; hadn’t even shifted his eyes from the epad screen. Yet, that voice was one-of-a-kind. Especially in the reaction it stirred in her. Calmly settling back into her seat, she lifted her beer, trying to look totally bored. “Excuse me?”

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“Those two always sit at the table between the restroom and the taproom. You’d have to go right past them.” His gaze never lifted from the computer. Tori started. “How did you—?” “Get up, casually, and head for the elevators over there,” his gaze flicked up, across the lobby from the hotel lounge. “Wait there for a few moments, as if waiting for an elevator, and then take the stairwell beside the far elevator. A door leads out into the alley. You should be able to figure out what to do from there.” Tori’s gaze flickered over the route, and then back, and her brow furrowed as her curiosity stirred. He sounded like he gave directions like that every day and yet she knew for a fact that Marcos Devante was a businessman, not a spy. “How do you know that’s what I was going to do? In fact, how do you know I even know those guys? Maybe they’re friends of mine.” His eyes flashed up to meet hers, dark with scorn. “And maybe I’m neither stupid nor blind, Ms. Blair. You’re playing a very dangerous game; now go, before they recognize you.” She sucked in a breath. How did he know her name? A sudden prickle of apprehension had her hissing with rage. “You’ve been following me! Why?” His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “I assure you, Ms. Blair, if I was following you, you’d never have known. Now, get out of here.” She didn’t wait around for him to repeat the suggestion. With a final glance toward the two ORION agents who were, amazingly enough, sitting exactly where Devante had said, she slid from the barstool and headed for the elevators. Halfway there, she glanced over her shoulder, and found Marcos Devante’s olive-brown eyes fixed on her departing backside. With a grin, she put a little swing in her walk, knowing that the worn jeans molded to her curves in a flattering way. Once this auction was over, she was going to pay a visit to Minos Enterprises, and find out just how much its CEO really knew about her, and how he’d learned it.

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CHAPTER FIVE

Astoria Blair was trouble, with a capital “T.” But, watching that toned, sleek ass of hers sway as she moved away with the same catlike grace that had originally captivated his attention, Marcos couldn’t come up with a definite reason why she should be off-limits. Other than the fact she was a thief, and his strict Catholic upbringing said there was nothing to admire about someone who violated the Ten Commandments. And, of course, there was the premonition that hit him the first moment he ever laid eyes on her. He couldn’t banish the feeling that there was a lot more to Astoria Blair than met the eye and, whatever it was, it was dangerous. Still, nothing said he couldn’t appreciate a work of art, and Astoria was indeed that. She was a beautiful collection of sleek, sinuous muscle and skin that had him reaching for his drink in an effort to wet his suddenly parched throat. Halfway across the lobby, she glanced back, and he knew he’d been caught. He saw the flicker of her smile and the suddenly exaggerated sway of that perfect rear. Marcos nearly groaned; the woman was playing with fire. However, from what the file he’d compiled on her said, Astoria enjoyed a challenge. He wondered if that applied to the men in her life, too, and decided he didn’t want to pursue that line of thought. Turning his attention back to his epad, where Astoria’s life – or as much of it as he was able to find, anyway – lie open for his viewing. He called up her picture, frowning in an effort to stave off the sudden twist in his gut. She was a beautiful woman, all right, with skin like the smooth interior of a toasted almond; her Korean roots clear in the tone of her skin and the almond shape of her obsidian eyes. Those eyes were clear and captivating, and the combination of humor and intelligence there fascinated him, while the wary confusion he saw in her arresting eyes just moments ago called to him to protect her. She looked like she

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was in trouble and Marcos couldn’t resist a woman in need. Astoria Blair needed his help, and she was going to get it, whether she knew it or not. With a keystroke, he shut down the epad and looked up, scanning the lobby for a sleek form with long, jet-black hair coiled in a braid. Nothing. Good; she did as he said. Leaving his half-finished drink, Marcos rose and headed for the main doors. Until he knew exactly what kind of game Astoria was playing at, he wasn’t letting her get away from him. The overwhelming pressure in his head told him that she was walking straight into a trap.

***

Tori blew out her breath in relief as she neared the seedy hotel where she was supposed to meet her bidders at 2200 hours. Glancing at her digital watch, she saw it was 2150. Good. She wanted to be early, to take up her observation position. Settling into one of the shabby chairs that were scattered in the lobby, she stretched and sighed. Now came the boring part. If there was one thing Tori hated about her job, it was being forced to wait. Closing her eyes, she tried to unwind, but relaxation wouldn’t come. When she closed her eyes, she again saw the explosion and the inferno that had turned Jake’s building into ashes, stealing away one of the few people of any importance in her life. Damn it. Tori’s fists clenched hard as she fought the sting of tears. Jake had been her friend; he was one of the few people that Tori had ever trusted with her life, and even a measure of her past. ORION had taken him from her, over that stupid orb, and she couldn’t get him back. But she could avenge him, and as soon as she knew who else had an interest in that orb, she’d know for sure who she was hunting. Her epad beeped, causing Tori’s eyes to fly open in surprise as her heart jumped erratically and adrenaline poured through her. She glanced down at the epad screen, already knowing what she’d find. EyesUp was back. His words, however, nearly knocked the breath out of her. You’re playing with fire. She drew a deep breath to steady her lurching heart, wrapped herself in courage she didn’t feel, and with cocky bravado, typed, That’s how I like it. We had a deal. She rolled her eyes with a tiny snort of laughter. Of all the conceited, arrogant bastards out there! No. You tried to blackmail me.

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With that, she punched the “power off” button on her epad. Let EyesUp play with himself; she wasn’t in the mood for cat-and-mouse games. Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. 2159 hours. She straightened, her eyes going to the entrance, as her heartbeat fluttered with excitement. Who would show up to bid?

He stood in the shadows of the dead-ended hallway, his dark gaze fixed on the woman’s bent head. He already knew her moves; he studied her long enough to know that she would enter this hallway in an effort to escape her situation. He wondered if she knew that the emergency exit labeled on the blueprints for the building was inaccurate. She was something else; he just wasn’t sure what, yet. She sat down there in the lobby, as brazen as could be; as if she expected T-Bird to just walk up and hand over the prototype. With that kind of naïveté, she must have the world’s best luck, to have not been caught yet. He wondered, briefly, how many jobs she did before the Bon Dauphin. Couldn’t have been many, or she’d never have taken that job. The bid had screamed “set-up.” The only question was whether it was ORION or not. If it was, Astoria was really playing with fire. ORION didn’t like being crossed. Jason Carrick, ORION’s leader, was a hard, unforgiving man, and he proved that when he sent those thugs to “chat” with Astoria Blair. Now, she was about to tangle with a thief who had her totally out-classed. He could only wonder what was going through her mind, just as the front door of the hotel slid open.

Tori straightened as the door opened at exactly 2200 hours. The breath rushed from her in a whispered expletive as she caught sight of the first man through the door. Holy shit, she was in trouble! Standing in the doorway, arms akimbo, his quicksilver eyes glowering beneath the ridge of his dark brows, the light glaring off his glasses, and the medals on his uniform gleaming even in the dim light, stood the one man she’d hoped never to cross paths with. “General Carrick.” The name hissed between her teeth, little more than an exhaled breath. Jason Carrick was the leader of ORION. She was surprised to see him; especially since he knew she didn’t have the orb anymore. Carrick’s eyes scanned the lobby, the left one a little more sluggish than the right, and Tori felt a prickle of uneasiness dance along her spine, even as she attempted to surreptitiously slip away. Time to get the hell out of here. “Leaving so soon, Ms. Blair?” Carrick’s snide tone froze Tori midway to her feet, and rage flashed through her. How dare he talk to her like she was a worthless slug after what he did!

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“I was at least taught enough manners to rise when greeting my guests,” she shot back, glaring. “Even murdering assholes like you.” A cold chill spread over his face, and Tori fought the urge to back away as her apprehension grew. Uh-oh. Looked liked she’d gone too far again. “Arrest her.” Carrick gestured to the two ORION agents who flanked him, and turned back toward the door. “I would prefer her alive, for questioning, but don’t feel the need to be gentle.” With that, Carrick disappeared through the door, followed by the slim, busty woman who’d accompanied him, leaving Tori facing off with two of her dance partners from Paris. This dance, she already knew. She didn’t intend to stick around for an encore. Drawing a deep breath, she shifted as if she intended to make a move toward them, and reaching her arms back, suddenly flipped herself over the back edge of the chair, landing smoothly on her feet. She wasted no time in vaulting for her egress in the darkened hallway to her left. She could hear the familiar, ominous pounding of booted feet behind her, and sucked in shallow breaths as she slid her hand into her jacket pocket, reaching for her SCIDS gloves. She skidded to a halt facing the blank wall where the blueprints of the building had placed an emergency exit. Only, Tori knew the exit had been bricked over, except for a small ventilation shaft just below the ceiling. That was her egress. With a grim smile, she pulled out the SCIDS gloves and slipped them on. Before she could activate the unit, a hand suddenly grabbed her arm and, before she could react, she found herself backed up against the wall, her cry of alarm swallowed up in Marcos Devante’s kiss. Tori’s brain fused at the contact of his lips, as hot lightning shot through her, wringing a small gasp from her. Marcos took advantage of her shock, pinning her arms against the wall as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, deepening their kiss. The sensation ricocheted through Tori, bringing her body instantly alive with a need she’d never felt before. God, no man had ever made her feel hungry before; she was used to sex being nothing more than a scratch for “the itch.” Her nipples tightened, and her breasts felt heavy with need. She wanted Marcos’ hands there, relieving the ache his kiss stirred. As if he could read everything she was feeling, he ground against her with a low growl, leaving her no doubt that he was as into this as she was. That jolted her brain awake again. Marcos Devante wasn’t supposed to be here; he wasn’t the kind of person who visited bid boards and illegal auctions. With a hard yank, she pulled her arms free and pushed against his chest, hissing, “What do you think you’re doing?” His lips barely flickered in what she swore was a smile. “Saving your ass.”

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His gaze flickered toward the corner of the corridor, and she got the message, loud and clear. She only had two options left, now that he’d distracted her from her original escape plan. She could let herself be captured in this dead-end hallway by two men whose orders were to arrest her with bodily injury if she resisted, or let Marcos Devante save her by playing lover-boy. Gee. Such a tough choice. Tori licked her lips, tasting the heat of Marcos’ kiss again, and a slow grin spread over her face. Reaching up, she twined her hands behind Devante’s head and pulled him down, planting her lips against his with a breathy, wicked, “I’m all yours, Devante.”

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CHAPTER SIX

Kissing Astoria was a bad idea; no two ways about it. Yet, he hadn’t been able to come up with a better plan at the time, and he thought he could handle it. Sure, she was pure sin on a plate, with sloppy impulse control, but he wasn’t attracted to either attribute. He could control himself, and his situation. He could never be attracted to a woman like Astoria Blair. He was looking for a good woman, who was honest and loyal; Astoria had “bad girl” written all over her, and she was a thief, besides. She was everything he didn’t want. Which didn’t explain why, the moment he tasted her sweet lips, he suddenly craved her. Not just wanted; craved. And she had the balls to question what he was doing. He wished he knew. No, kissing her hadn’t been a good idea, but at least it was a better one than goading her into kissing him. That was just plain stupid. When he kissed her, she was stiff and barely responsive, thrown off and made defensive by the shock of his kiss. Which was infinitely better for his sanity than the hot, sensual woman plastered against him now. He was barely hanging onto control, his brain battling the demands of the raging erection pressing against the seam of his pants. Astoria dug her fingers into the cloth at his shoulders and lifted herself between him and the wall, until her pelvis rocked against his arousal, her legs wrapping around his waist as her tongue swiped seductively along his bottom lip. Marcos groaned, his hands going to her hips, then sliding to grasp her perfect ass, kneading it as he ground against her, control slipping beyond his reach. He wanted her. Naked. Now. She tore her lips from his, breathing in sweet little pants that drove his body crazy, until her whispered words, against his ear, sent an arctic chill over him. “I think they’re gone, Romeo.”

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She was acting? She turned him on, pushed him beyond his strict personal control, and clearly hadn’t felt a thing, to judge by her amused tone and that wry quirk of a grin as she let her legs slide back down. She’d played him, and obviously enjoyed every minute of her little game. A wave of cold fury poured over Marcos, dousing his arousal as he slid the cool, detached mask of control back into place. He wouldn’t let this thieving minx of a siren get to him. If she wanted to play games, let her play them with someone else’s heart; his was reserved for a woman who could be trusted with it.

“Come. They’ll be back soon.” Devante was already heading back the way she came as he issued that sharp order. Tori stared after him as shock and anger churned in her. Okay, so she spoiled the moment; she’d never been so freaking scared in her life, for Christ’s sake! What he made her feel… Tori sucked in a breath and shivered with the heat that sluiced through her. That was the very reaction that scared the hell out of her while she was in his arms. She reacted to it the same way she always did to fear – with wry bravado, to convince herself she had nothing to fear. She was in control. When she didn’t follow him, Devante stopped, scowling over his shoulder at her. “I said come.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You must have me confused with a pet.” He sighed in exasperation as he swung around to face her. “They’ll be back. We don’t have time for theatrics, Astoria—” “That’s Tori,” she seethed as she stalked up to him, jabbing her finger repeatedly against his chest as she grated out, “T-O-R-I. Tori. Got it?” He didn’t answer. His hand closed around her wrist as his expression hardened, and he yanked her along, heading for the front door. Tori fought his grasp, even as she stumbled along behind his longlegged stride. “Damn it, let go.” “Would you do as I tell you, if I did?” His words came out clipped and terse. “Hell, no.” “Then I’m not letting go.” His grip shifted, tightening, and Tori swore sharply as pain pinched in her wrist. “Ow! Ease up, would you. What are you trying to do?” He shot her a cold glare. “I’m protecting my investment.” Those words slapped Tori in the face, the sting of them leaving her stunned speechless. His investment? A chill shivered through her as her brain put two and two together, and sickening recognition dawned. “Jesus Christ.”

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He shot her a warning glare. “Don’t blaspheme.” She blinked, wanting to laugh in his face. However, something about his expression warned her that would be a very bad idea. Instead, she stopped dead in the street, causing him to halt as well. “You’re EyesUp?” His expression didn’t alter even a fraction, and yet, watching him, she felt that tingle of awareness that had nothing to do with sex crawl up her spine again. “You have been following me! Why?” He sighed. “This is neither the time nor the place…” “No fucking joke,” she shot back, and watched his frown deepen. “I want to know why you were trying to blackmail me into stealing from my own auction.” He froze, mid-turn, and his wary gaze flashed back to her. “Your auction?” “Yeah.” “You are T-Bird?” A grin tugged at her lips in response to the shocked disbelief on his face as his hand fell away. “In the flesh.” His eyes flared as they skimmed over her, and Tori felt the tingle of that motion clear through, before a cold, unreadable expression settled over Devante’s face. His hand clamped around her upper arm again, and he dragged her the final few steps to the same black luxury landtrans she saw outside the warehouse yesterday. Yanking open the door, he practically threw her into the back seat, before sliding into the front. Activating the autocontrols with a code Tori couldn’t see, he set the destination locator. As the vehicle lifted off the street, rising into the air, Tori gasped. This thing had a flight propulsion system! There was no way she was staying in here with this Neanderthal who thought it was his god-given right to control her! She reached for the door release. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” She shot him a defiant glare, to find his eyes fixed on her via the rearview mirror used for manual drive. “Yeah, well, you’re not me, and I would.” She flipped the release, and barely bit back a scream as the door sprang open, nearly sending her tumbling fifty stories through open air. She caught herself on the runner, her feet dangling as she tried to activate the SCIDS and find the purchase to pull herself back into the vehicle. Above the rush of air past her head, she thought she heard a hissed oath in Spanish, and then strong hands were closing around her arms, pulling her back inside in a swift jerk that sent them both sprawling. Her heart pounding with leftover adrenaline, Tori rested her head against Devante’s firm,

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muscular chest as she panted for breath, her eyes squeezed closed. God, this thing had to have one hell of a flight system! How did they get so high, so fast? Slowly, reality bled through the frightened haze, and Tori’s breath shallowed as she realized she was sprawled atop Devante, her legs tangled with his in a way that pressed her pelvis hard against his. And, speaking of hard… Marcos was; impressively so. She shifted slightly, and he groaned, his hands going instantly to her rear, their heat branding her through her jeans. A thrill shot through her pulse, followed by an aching need to feel his hands on her bare flesh. That feeling scared her; she didn’t want to ever burn for a man this way. She didn’t want to ever be hurt, though she couldn’t remember why she even thought she would be. All she knew was that she feared what Marcos stirred in her, and she hated her fear. So, planting her hands on either side of his head, she levered herself up so that only her lower body touched his, rubbing their bodies together in a blatant imitation of sex that had Devante hissing out his breath, his fingers biting into her ass. Leaning over him, as if to kiss him, she stopped just short of his lips, her breath whispering over his face as she breathed, “So, you get off on rescuing damsels in distress, huh? You’re a closet adrenaline junkie, Devante.” Then, with a final push of her lower body against the hard ridge beneath her, drawing a muffled groan from Devante, Tori lifted herself off him and folded herself into the far corner of the landtrans, leaving Devante to deal with closing the open door. He did so swiftly, his brow furrowed in a frown, before settling into the driver’s seat, swiveling it around to face her as he sighed heavily. “Astoria—” “Tori,” she corrected him coldly, staring out the tinted window. Damn it, couldn’t he even get her name right? “Your birth certificate says Astoria. Astoria Lauren Blair.” She swallowed hard, her eyes burning. God, why was he doing this to her? In a hoarse mutter, she managed, “That girl died a long time ago.” He was silent for so long, Tori finally glanced up at him, to find confused eyes focused intently on her. “What?” “You’re really T-Bird? The T-Bird?” The disbelief on his face and in his voice wasn’t the least bit flattering. She huffed out a sharp laugh. “Yeah; I’m really T-Bird.” He shook his head. “How have you managed to evade capture for so long?” She raised a brow at him. “By being good at my job. Damned good.”

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“But why steal in the first place? You could do anything; be anything.” Ah. So here was the real issue. She should have guessed. She didn’t imagine there were too many people who would understand why she was what she was. Electra did. Electra Monroe, head of Medusa’s Hand – an underground militia organization sworn to end GSS and ORION’s dictatorial control of North America – was the closest thing Tori could recall ever having to a sister. They’d been fast friends at Mary Halloway’s, but when Tori had run away and Electra was kidnapped, they both believed the other was dead until Electra had hired the infamous T-Bird to steal some artwork for Medusa’s Hand to auction off. When Electra had realized that T-Bird was Tori, she just smiled and said, “I should have known.” Yeah, Electra had understood Tori. And so had Jake. Tori’s throat closed at the memory of Jake. She was so busy chasing down the son of a bitch who killed him and stole the orb that she’d never grieved. Now, tears stung her eyes, and she hardened herself against them. She’d never cry in front of a man like Marcos Devante. Astoria might have, if she’d lived; but Tori didn’t show her weaknesses to anyone she didn’t trust. “Astoria?” She gritted her teeth. Devante was waiting for an answer, she knew, but damn it, couldn’t the man at least learn her name? Besides, she didn’t have an answer to give him. So, jerking out a shrug, she muttered, “You wouldn’t understand.” “Try me.” Tori lifted her eyes, and met the concern in his. Sucking in a breath, she sighed. “Have you ever had someone who should have loved you, but chose to walk away instead? I don’t imagine you’ve ever been betrayed like that.” Suddenly, Devante’s expression closed off, and he spun back around to face the console he didn’t need to monitor. Tori’s eyes narrowed. Okay, she obviously hit a nerve with that comment. Only she had no idea what, and reading Marcos Devante was a lesson in futility. Tori turned back to the window, telling herself she didn’t care. Men like Marcos weren’t interested in the truth.

Marcos forced himself to draw even breaths against the stabbing pain in his chest. He hadn’t felt that pain in nearly two years. He’d almost forgotten the ache, replacing it with anger and distrust. Astoria’s words, and the hurt that he doubted she realized her eyes exhibited, brought it all rushing back. All the agony of that whole first year after Elena had told him they were through; she only loved him for what he could give her, and it wasn’t enough. Never mind that he’d have given her almost anything she asked for. The world wasn’t enough for Elena Santos; not his world, anyway.

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He spent the entire first year staring at the ring she’d given him back, wondering why the woman he’d believed perfect for him hadn’t been able to love him. Had his love not been strong enough to keep her? Marcos squeezed his eyes shut. Funny, how it took a woman who was totally wrong for him to understand the betrayal he felt. Only, it wasn’t funny at all. For Astoria – excuse, Tori – to understand that kind of soul-deep betrayal, she would have to have suffered it herself. His eyes snapped open, going to the rearview mirror, where he could see the open pain on her face as she stared out the window, unaware that she was being observed. Who had betrayed her, to send her spiraling into a life of crime?

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Tori blinked awake to find herself lying in the middle of a bed that could easily have slept four or five in a spacious, but tastefully decorated, room. Soft light from a bedside lamp illuminated a circle of the room, fading into shadows. Okay, she could handle not remembering when and where she fell asleep; she was sure that would come back in a moment, because she was certain it hadn’t involved drugs, alcohol, this place, or…she glanced down to find herself fully clothed, and breathed a sigh of relief. Or sex. Which left the distinctly uncomfortable questions of how she arrived here and where here was. Sliding to the edge of the bed, she rose to her feet and felt her head clear as she dragged in a deep breath that held a familiar, spicy scent. Devante. She nearly groaned as the memories came rushing back. She was in Marcos Devante’s land transit. They argued. He shut down, and she got lost in memories. She must have fallen asleep at some point. No big surprise, after the night she had, she was exhausted. She frowned. None of that told her where she was, or how she got here. However, if she’d been with Devante, and could still smell the lingering scent of his aftershave, he had to be around here somewhere. He’d have the answers she needed. She slipped her feet into her shoes – when did she take her shoes off, or did she? – and crossed the room to the door. She was just reaching to open it when a voice spoke out of the shadows beyond the lamplight. “Where do you think you’re going?” Tori jumped, whirling toward the sound, before her shock gave way to anger. “Damn it, Devante! Quit doing that!” He rose from the chair tucked into the dark corner, stepping into the spill of lamplight. His eyes were austere, and his expression unfathomable. “Why do you always jump?” “None of your business.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “Where am I?”

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He glanced around, as if he’d never seen the place either, before a wry smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “My penthouse. I use it when I have to stay in the city.” His apartment? She was in his apartment? Tori’s eyes went wide as they went to the bed. If this was his apartment… “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “This is a guest room.” She clenched her jaw in an effort to stave off the lurch of her heart. That was an unnerving ability he had, reading her like that. No one read Tori Blair that easily. “How did I get here?” His brow furrowed. “You don’t remember?” What was to remember? She’d been asleep, right? Fear pricked Tori; she didn’t like this. Not one bit. “I remember…I remember Carrick, and…kissing you,” she watched his intense eyes flare at her husky admittance and had to swallow against a lump of mingled fear and want before she could continue. “I remember the landtrans, and arguing, and…that’s it.” He nodded, as if he expected as much. “You fell asleep after that.” “Which doesn’t explain how I got here,” she pointed out with a sweep of her hands, indicating the room at large. “I carried you.” Tori’s breath froze in her lungs. No. He couldn’t have carried her. The idea of it was just too…scary. “You…You carried me?” He nodded, taking another step toward her. Tori backed away from the strange light in his eyes – half heat, half rage. He continued to advance, slowly, until he had her backed up against the door, barely an inch of space between them as he towered over her. Tori sucked in a breath, drawing in the powerful, intoxicating scent of spicy aftershave, body heat, and something so uniquely Marcos that her body clenched, and tingling heat built within her. She stared up into his eyes, frightened and excited by what she read there, as he leaned nearer and her starving body screamed, yes! His lips hovered above hers, his warm breath, spiced with cinnamon, brushing over her face. Tori felt her knees weakening and was suddenly glad of the door at her back, keeping her upright. God, she’d never been this turned on in her life; what was he waiting for? “Now,” he murmured in that sexily accented voice that rushed over her like an electric wave, making every cell in her body quiver, “you’re going to give me what I want.” A sigh slipped from her lips. About time. She was going crazy, with this insane attraction humming inside her. She wanted it sated, now, so it would quit distracting her. “Yes.”

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She reached for him, but his hands grasped her wrists, pinning her arms against the door. The inch of air between them heated, and Tori swore she could hear the crackle of sexual tension; she could damn well feel it. It was crawling all over her body. “Marcos…” His breath fanned her cheek as his head bent nearer, and she swore she could feel the scrape of stubble abrading her over-stimulated skin. Meeting his eyes, she nearly gasped at the controlled rage there, as he hissed out, “Where is it, puta? What have you done with my Screamer?”

Marcos watched in dark humor as Tori’s head snapped back so fast it struck the door with a hard thud, and her eyes widened in frightened disbelief. Had she really thought she was the one in control? That she could use emotions to control a man who had learned to master his fear, pain, and desires as little more than a boy? He nearly laughed in her face. She disgusted him with her thievery and her lies. He hated her, as a woman who used her femininity as a snare, and who attempted to manipulate men through sex. He hated…he hated himself, for being weak enough to let her play him. Because that’s exactly what happened. He wanted her; Dios forgive him, but he wanted her like he never wanted a woman before. Watching her sleep, her prickly defenses lowered, he saw a vulnerability in Astoria Blair that touched his heart and soul in ways even Elena had been unable to. And that terrified him; because this woman was everything he promised himself never to fall for. So, yeah, he pushed her. He wanted her angry and defensive. He wanted to bring out everything that made him loathe her, so he could forget the tender ache of holding her in his arms and watching her sleeping face. “Where is it?” He demanded again, when she didn’t answer. “I have no idea,” she snapped back, trying to wrestle free of his grasp. Her struggle ignited new heat in his body, excitement arrowing still more blood to the throbbing hard on in his crotch. Damn it. He disgusted himself with this desire. She glared up at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She twisted in his grasp, breaking free. With an enraged hiss, he clamped down on her wrists again as she turned toward the door, pinning her face-first against the metal. He bent near her ear, trying to ignore her soft, warm scent – so at odds with the hardened hellcat he held trapped – and the sight of her enticingly perfect ass. “Only one ladrón I know of would have the ánimo to break into my research facility, or the skills needed to get back out again with my prototype. You.” He couldn’t help the sudden huskiness of his voice; as angry as he was, he was equally aroused. Leaning in, he couldn’t resist nipping her ear with his

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teeth as he pressed himself against her soft, toned rear. Feral pleasure shot through him as he watched her try, and fail, to control the shiver of desire that trembled through her. Pulling back, he grated out, “Now, where is it?” “I. Don’t. Know.” She bucked backward, hard, breaking his grasp on her wrists with a shove that surprised him and then swept a foot out, driving both of his feet out from under him. Shock at her sudden attack delayed his reaction and he landed on his back, grunting as the air left him. Before he could recover, Tori had taken control, straddling him as her hands clamped his against the plush carpeting. “Now, if you’ve quite finished, I’m going to walk out that door,” she jerked her head toward the bedroom door, “and go back to my life.” “Wrong,” he growled. It was all he could manage, with the sweet heat of her pressed against him like that. She cocked a brow and shifted her hips slightly, her lips twitching as he clenched his jaw against reacting. “Oh?” He fisted his hands, twisting to break her hold, before he rolled them both, pinning her to the floor with his body. “You’re staying right here,” he commanded, meeting her stubborn glare head on, ignoring the way those fiery obsidian eyes stirred his blood. He wasn’t about to back down, now that he knew who she was. Not until she gave up the Screamer. “I want you where I can keep an eye on you.” “Like hell,” she shot back heatedly, twisting futilely beneath him, bringing their bodies into tight contact. Marcos gritted his teeth against the arousal that shot through him. Hell, he couldn’t think of anything sexier than having that lithe, soft body twisting against his. Dios, he was in trouble. “I don’t need you being my shadow, Devante.” “And I’m not letting you go anywhere until you tell me where you stashed my Screamer.” Her delicate jaw clenched in a hard, stubborn jut, and those lush lips pulled back from her teeth in a feral snarl. “I don’t have it.” “Right.” His hands tightened on her wrists, even as he fought to ignore the heaving of those perfect breasts. Dios, was there anything about this woman that wasn’t sculptured perfection? He scowled, banishing the thought. She loosed a small cry of frustrated rage. “Why won’t you believe me, damn it? I. Do. Not. Have. It.” He snorted a disbelieving laugh. He wasn’t buying into this. He was right there for her last award-winning performance, in the corridor of that fleabag hotel.

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“You expect me to take you at your word?” He growled, scowling down at her. “Sorry, querida, but I make a point of never trusting thieves, or whores.” That stopped her cold, her eyes flaring as if she couldn’t decide whether to be outraged or hurt. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the rasp of two bodies breathing in perfect unison. Then, her eyes closed, shielding her from him, before a dark scowl settled over her face, telling him that she’d settled for outrage. Now, why didn’t that surprise him? “You’re a self-righteous son of a bitch; you know that, Devante?” She was glaring up at him, now, her small, capable hands fisted within his grasp and her chest heaving in fury. Her entire body was trembling. Trembling? Something, half-hidden by the shadow of memory, flashed through his mind, allowing him to see her rage for what it was – a mask. Suddenly, she wasn’t a hardened thief, but a vulnerable woman, hiding behind her bravado and pride. Seeing that loosened the wall around Marcos’ heart. He never wanted to kiss a woman as badly as he did Tori. He wanted to wipe away his hurtful words with a tenderness he very much doubted she’d ever been shown. A humorless smile tugged at his lips at the thought, knowing that Tori would castrate him for sure if he ever implied he hurt her, or if he tried to comfort her. With no other option, he called on the cool detachment that was his shield against hurt and faced her with a calm indifference he was far from feeling. “And you, Ms. Blair, are far too intelligent to need that gutter mouth of yours.” Her dark eyes blazed as her mouth opened to fire a sharp retort, and Marcos knew the game was up. As much as this little battle of wills was heating his blood, he sensed it was about to go beyond a game. It had suddenly become an all or nothing war, and Marcos Devante never lost. “No more arguing,” he warned huskily, and captured her mouth in a kiss that seared clear through every one of his defenses. Marcos groaned at the touch of her lips, lost in her sweetness and the sultry taste of temptation that was all Tori. Need swelled and overflowed, and he shifted, pulling both of her hands above her head, to grasp them tightly with one hand, leaving his other hand free to explore her exquisite curves. A low purr thrummed in Tori’s throat as he dragged his mouth away from the enticement of her lips to taste the hammering pulse in her neck. She arched into his ministrations with a small sound partway between a purr and a groan, and her responsiveness shot fire through Marcos. His free hand moved to the closure of her skin-tight shirt, yanking it open in a single motion even as he bit down lightly on the pulse point above her collarbone, wringing a desperate moan from her. His hand molded to her breast, feeling the silky rasp of lace and the heat of Tori beneath. He hissed in pleasure at the exquisite feel of her, nipples peaked and hard through the lace of her bra.

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“Dios, you’re amazing,” he murmured, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, bringing another needy moan from her. Marcos rose to his knees, releasing her wrists completely as he slid his hands over her bare flesh, admiring the smooth, soft play of skin and muscle flexing beneath his touch. She was toned, but still softly feminine. So small and delicate, like a fragile flower, and yet so tough and fearless that nothing could get close enough to do her harm. Like a thorn-covered rose. She took his breath away. Curving his arms beneath her, he lifted her upper body from the floor, leaning to trace his mouth over the flesh peeping out from the lacy edge of her black bra, his tongue swiping beneath the lace to lave her skin, drawing a breathless gasp from her. He lifted his head, met her solemn, heated gaze, and felt his heart stop. “I want you,” he finally admitted in a raspy growl, forcing the words past his lips. He didn’t want to want her, but he did. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” She whispered in a voice so sharp with bitter pain that it sliced into him like a knife. “You’ll fuck me, but you won’t trust me.” She scooted away from his touch, clasping her shirt closed until her trembling fingers were steady enough to reseal the static lock. The raw, vulnerable pain on her face nearly choked him. “Astoria—” “Damn it, that’s not my name,” she snapped in a harsh voice as she jerked to her feet and stalked away from him. “Sorry if I ruined your little fuckfest, Devante.” She stopped at the window, the first lines of dawn’s light casting her in a ghostly glow that tightened Marcos’ throat. Her next words, a pained rasp, nearly shattered him. “I’m not made that way, no matter what you think of me.”

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CHAPTER EIGHT

He was standing by the window in his study, his olive eyes staring blankly out at the skyline. Tori watched him from the doorway, a tightness building in her chest that she didn’t know how to deal with. She never encountered a man who blasted through her defenses the way Marcos did. It hurt that he was withdrawn now, but she couldn’t say why. He brooded all day, that dark expression on his face. It couldn’t go on; she wasn’t sure she could take much more. Somebody had to give before the tension killed her. For once in her life, it might as well be her. Carrying the thin plastic case in her hands that was her peace offering, Tori stepped into the room and cleared her throat to alert him she was there. Marcos stiffened, but made no move to turn around. The knife of pain plunged deeper into Tori. “I wanted you to know,” she told him quietly, barely able to force the words from her mouth. “I’m leaving now. But I want to show you something before I go.” He didn’t move; not even a flicker. But she saw the flinch of his expression reflected in the window glass, and sighed. “Look, Devante, it wasn’t meant to be, okay?” A sad, wry smile tugged at her lips at the truth in that statement. “We’d make better enemies than lovers, anyway.” He still didn’t respond, though she swore she saw denial flash across his face. Sighing, she walked to the desk, his silence eating at her. She wasn’t made for these games. Tori Blair had learned a long time ago to neither ask for nor expect the impossible. The same day she realized she was consigned to hell without rescue, Tori had given up on the future. She wouldn’t beg; not even for Marcos. Laying the disc on the wooden surface between them, she quietly continued, “This is what I was auctioning off. Look it over; I assure you, it has nothing to do with your prototype. And, Marcos? I do hope you find your stuff.”

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How could she feel lighter, and still so miserable, at the same time? Tori sighed as she turned back toward the door. She did what she came for. Now, it was time to leave. She barely took two steps toward the door when his quiet voice stopped her. “You really believe that, don’t you?” She turned slowly, to find Marcos standing at his desk, his gentle gaze fixed on her. Her heart squeezed in a way she didn’t understand, bringing unwelcome tears – signs of weakness – to her eyes. “Believe what?” His fingertips brushed over the disc case, and a corresponding rush of heat went through Tori at the memory of his fingertips, callused but gentle, on her flesh. “You really believe we’d make better enemies than lovers.” His voice had dropped to a husky murmur, and it dipped even lower on the last word, sending shivers of heat dancing along her spine. God, the man had a voice to tempt angels, or soothe demons; and she had more than enough of the latter. Tori lowered her eyes, avoiding his probing gaze as she handed him the truth. “Yes.” “Mentirosa,” he growled, rounding the edge of the desk in two swift strides, his eyes dark and flashing. “You’re just being a coward.” Her eyes snapped up to his as fury poured through her. How dare he call her a liar! After the way he treated her… “I’m a coward? When you refuse to even attempt to trust another human being? Who’s the liar now, Devante?” His eyes widened, and she could see she’d drawn blood as pain and rage mingled in his eyes. “You’re out of line.” “Am I?” She shot back, too irked to stop herself. She knew he was right; she was treading dangerous ground with this man. But Tori’d had enough of his high-handed tactics. He didn’t have a clue how much his accusations hurt her. “Why didn’t you just ask me what I was auctioning off? You knew I’d stolen the orb; didn’t it even cross your mind that I might be auctioning that off?” His jaw tightened. “That’s immaterial—” “No, it’s not. You never even gave me the benefit of the doubt; you never gave me a chance to prove my innocence. It was easier to keep me at arms length if you hated me, wasn’t it?” He barked a chilling laugh, his arms crossed over his chest. “I wasn’t the one playing ‘catch me if you can,’ Astoria.” “Tori,” she corrected through clenched teeth. “See what I mean? You’re even afraid to call me by my name…” One dark eyebrow rose sardonically. “This, from a woman who calls me ‘Devante’?”

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A smile quirked at her lips, in spite of her anger. “Only when you’re an ass, Devante. It’s hardly my fault you were born that way.” His lips twitched. God, was the man afraid to even smile? Then stepping up before her, he took her hand, lifting it palm-up, and her heart stalled. He wasn’t… He placed the disc in her hand, and Tori nearly laughed bitterly. Of course. All business. His next words nearly blew her away. “What will it cost me to hire you?” Shock avalanched though Tori, followed by searing indignation as she yanked away. He called her a whore earlier. If he thought, for even an instant… “I won’t sleep with you.” His lips twitched again, and his eyes warmed, causing her breath to halt in her lungs. “I wasn’t even going to suggest that. I want to hire T-Bird.” Her brows shot up in surprise. This was a switch she hadn’t seen coming. “You want to hire a thief?” “Not just any thief,” he said lightly, his lips flickering in a brief near-smile. Tori’s world nearly came apart at that soft, wry twist of his lips. Dear God; Marcos Devante was a heartbreaker in disguise. “I only hire the best.” Warmth flushed through her. He thought she was the best. Forcing herself to breathe, and ignoring the rapid thrumming of her pulse that screamed for her to take whatever he offered, she considered his offer. “I’m listening.” “Help me find the Screamer prototype and get it back.” She blinked, hard. He wasn’t actually suggesting…? “You want to hire a thief to play private eye? Are you nuts?” A small chuckle slipped free from his lips, nearly felling her. “No. But to catch this thief, I need a thief. Someone inventive, and intelligent, and—” “All right!” She laughed. “Enough with the flattery, Devante. Thieves can’t afford swelled heads.” “So you’ll do it?” Her eyes narrowed, and she regarded him shrewdly. Test time. “I’d have to have total access to your security systems and schematics for the facility. All of them.” He hesitated for an instant, and then nodded. “Done.” “And I’ll probably have to break into the lab it was stolen from at some point,” she warned him. “Maybe even several times.” That snapped him upright, and his frown deepened. “Why?”

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She rolled her eyes. Okay, they were talking big time trust issues, here. The man wasn’t just cautious; he was on a crash course to heart attack central. “I have to develop a route; the way the thief gained entry,” she explained, shooting him a grin and a wink in the hope of getting him to lighten up a bit. “Label it a security test, and go with it, Devante.” He shifted uneasily, that frown etched into his face. But, finally, he sighed and nodded. “All right. Anything else?” “Yeah.” She looked up, met his eyes, and let him read how deadly serious she was about this condition as she murmured, “You have to trust me, Marcos.” He froze, and she watched the wall of distrust slam up in his eyes. She knew, with a sinking heart, what his answer would be, even before he rasped, “I can’t.” “Then we don’t have a deal.” She forced herself to sound casually unconcerned, shrugging as if his inability to meet her conditions didn’t matter in the least to her. It did matter, though. His lack of trust stabbed her in a way she never imagined anything could, surprising her. And hurting like that scared the hell out of her. Touching her fingers to the jade tiger at her throat, she drew her courage as a shield against the pain rattling around inside. She would go to Electra. Medusa’s Hand could help her find someone to figure out the disc, and they’d protect her from Carrick and ORION. “Good-bye, Devante.” What stung worst of all, Tori decided as she silently rode the elevator to the building’s lobby, was that Marcos never even tried to stop her.

*** Pearl’s, on 125th and 5th, was barely more than a hole in the wall, even in Harlem, but the tiny diner was always pristinely clean, and the food Pearl cooked was to die for. Tori drew a deep breath as she stepped in the door, drawing in the savory scents of roasted chicken and good old-fashioned gravy, and sighed in rapture. It’d been four years since she’d been here; a lifetime too long. “Well, bless my soul! T-Bird!” Before Tori could take more than two steps in the door, she found herself enveloped in beefy, strong arms the rich shade of good coffee, and squeezed until she couldn’t breathe. She grinned; God, it was good to be back! Pearl Messenger was a huge black woman with a heart twice as big as her substantial person, and graying hair that brought out the sparkle in her dark, chocolate eyes. She took one look at Tori four years ago and declared her in need of a good mothering. Pearl was perceptive that way.

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Now, the older woman stepped back, grinning broadly and looking every inch the mother hen of Medusa’s Hand, and not an inch their highly capable safehouse director. Whimsical and romantic about her job, Pearl always prided herself as the Harriet Tubman of American Freedom. “Girl, you are a sight for sore eyes,” she declared, her dark face wreathed in joy, though a strange sadness lurked in her eyes. “J.T.! Get your butt out here, boy! We got special company!” Tori winced at that bellowed command, grinning, and laughed as the old-fashioned kitchen door swung open, and a dark face ducked out. A whoop of glee followed, before James Tyler Messenger burst through the door, swooping in to engulf Tori in a bear hug that lifted her five-foot-six-inch frame up to his six and a half feet of wiry muscle. “Ladybird!” He dropped a delighted kiss on her cheek, his thin frame shaking with delight. “Never thought you’d come back!” “Hey, Jazz.” She returned his hug tightly, tears pricking her eyes. J.T. – nicknamed Jazz by the Hand for his addiction to the old-time music he adored – was the only man besides Jake who Tori ever let into her life. Never mind that Jazz was as gay as gay came; he was an anchor she could always turn to. With her emotions in upheaval, she needed Jazz. Why had she been so stubborn, shutting her need for friends out? “Hey, Ladybird,” Jazz said softly as he set her on her feet, his long, artistic fingers reaching to brush away the moisture dampening her cheeks. “Tears? Honey girl, what’s wrong?” Tori trembled, glad for Pearl’s steady support as the older woman drew her away from Jazz and led her toward a booth in the empty diner. Glancing between them, Tori saw the look that mother and son shared, and wondered what they were thinking. “Jake’s dead,” she finally admitted hoarsely, propping her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands. “Oh, Ladybird,” Jazz murmured compassionately, folding his lanky frame into the molded plastic bench beside her and wrapping his arms around her. Turning into his embrace, she burrowed against him, her grief and guilt spilling out in quiet sobs, even as she absorbed the familiar, safe scent that was uniquely Jazz. “It’s all my fault!” She whispered, facing that painful guilt, though it stabbed clear through her soul. “If I hadn’t insisted on going after that disc, or opening it…” “What disc?” Pearl asked, even as she pulled over a chair and eased herself into it. Tori shrugged. “It’s some kind of nanotech protocol. But I couldn’t decipher it all. I was going to take it to a scientist, even though Jake…Jake tried to talk me into just getting rid of it.” She looked up at Pearl. “I need to talk to Electra.”

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Again, that look between mother and son, and a tingle of apprehension crawled along Tori’s spine. Something was wrong. “What’s going on?” Pearl blinked and Jazz frowned. Finally, the older woman sighed heavily. “Wish we knew, TBird.” “Electra’s MIA, Tori,” Jazz supplied quietly. Tori pulled away abruptly, those words punching her hard in the chest. “How?” “We don’t know,” Jazz said with a shrug.

“No one seems really sure when or how she

disappeared. We don’t even know if it was voluntarily or not.” “We’re assuming not,” Pearl put in darkly. “If it was voluntary, she’d have contacted someone by now.” Tori opened her mouth to ask where Electra had been when she disappeared, even as the steady buzz she last felt in Paris began gnawing at the back of her head again. God, what was that? Her epad beeped, sending Tori’s gaze flying to the screen. Only one person ever contacted her this way… Get out. Get out NOW. Tori gasped, rising so fast she nearly overturned the table. “Out! Get everyone out of the building!” Pearl and Jazz exchanged puzzled looks. “There’s no one else here right now,” Pearl said, her brow furrowing over her wary eyes. “What’s—?” “We have to get out of the building! C’mon!” Tori gestured wildly, her heart pounding in her throat. She felt the urgency behind those words, and she trusted it. Marcos hadn’t been wrong, yet. Her epad beeped insistently, drawing her gaze again. Astoria, get OUT! They had just cleared the building when the military personnel carriers screeched to a halt all around them. Oh, God. Marcos’ warning had been too late; they were screwed. “Go, Tori,” Jazz said darkly, glaring at the uniformed men leaping from the carriers. “Get out of here.” She shot him a surprised look, even as the buzzing at the base of her skull grew into a throbbing sensation. “I’m not leaving you two!” “We’ll be just fine, girl,” Pearl said sternly, giving Tori one of her famous warning looks. “They can’t hurt us.” “Go.” Jazz gave her a push toward the alley. “Fly, Ladybird.”

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With a final glance at their unyielding faces, Tori did as she was told, even though she wanted nothing more than to just drop to the ground and cover her ears until that awful, maddening noise went away. Racing into the alleyway, Tori tugged on her SCIDS gloves as she ran, hearing the sounds of shouting and pounding feet just above the hum in her ears. Activating the system, she leapt for the wall, pulling herself up painfully by her arms – her shoe implants were in the climbing shoes she used for work, and had left at her hotel before she went to the auction. If not for her planned emergency egress for the auction, she’d have been without the gloves, as well. The buzzing grew to a painful screech that threatened to explode her head, and Tori squeezed her eyes shut against the desire to scream, as well.

Then, silence dropped suddenly over her, totally

obliterating all sound, before an energy blast that rattled the brick building rocked through the street, and the clatter of shattering glass brought sound rushing back over her. The blast jolted through Tori, slicing straight through her heart. No! There were loud, panicked voices, and then harshly issued commands over the sounds of splintering wood and pounding feet. Time stretched, and Tori’s arms ached in her dangerous position, fifteen feet above the ground. But the searing pain in her arms and shoulders was nothing compared to the rending pain in her heart. Jazz and Pearl died protecting her. Why? There was nothing special about Tori Blair. Yet, even she had to admit that disaster seemed to follow her wherever she went. Everyone she ever cared about either died or disappeared. Her parents, Jake, Electra, and now Pearl and Jazz. Small wonder she was terrified of the reactions Marcos stirred in her. Marcos. Tori’s heart squeezed at the memory of his urgent messages. How had he known? How did he always seem to know when trouble was headed her way? Again, her doubts surfaced, and she wondered if he was in league with ORION. How else could he have possibly known? Footsteps echoed below her and Tori sucked in her sob of pain and fear. Pearl and Jazz had given their lives for her escape. She wasn’t about to get caught. “Astoria?” The soft, accented query tore loose the tight control she held over her pain, and she began to tremble. “Astoria, they’re gone. Come down.” She loosed a shuddering breath. Her muscles felt like jelly. “I… I can’t.” She heard him swear, low and in Spanish, and a wobbly smile crossed her lips. “G-gutter mouth.” “Can you move your left hand?” “I…” She wriggled her palm, and felt the tiny barbs retract back into the microfiber webbing of her glove. “Yes.” “Good. Deactivate the system.” She froze. “I’m fifteen feet up.”

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“I’ll catch you.” Her heart stalled, and then began pounding harshly. This was a test of trust, and she was too numb and cold inside to be wary. She just wanted him to hold her. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to feel safe, and protected, and… She clenched her fingers tightly over the nanocomputer in her glove’s palm, and fell away from the wall.

Marcos released his breath, the tremble of relief stuttering through his chest, as Tori’s warm weight landed solidly in his arms. Gracias a Dios. He was terrified he arrived too late. Then, as she burrowed against his chest, sobbing with all the fear, pain, and rage she held pent-up all this time, he felt his heart crack. He was too late; too late to spare her pain. He did this to her. He had her safe and hidden away from ORION. But he let his fear and mistrust control him, and hadn’t stopped her from walking out of the penthouse when he should have. Cradling her in his arms, Marcos returned to his landtrans, programmed for a swift departure in case ORION returned while he was collecting Tori. Now, slipping into the vehicle’s rear seat with his shivering cargo, he commanded, “Penthouse.” The vehicle rose into the air even as he secured the door, speeding toward its destination. Marcos turned his attention to the huddled form on the seat beside him. She was in the first stages of shock. Already, he could see her pupils dilating and growing fixed, as her shivers increased. She wasn’t actually cold; her body was responding to fear and pain, and stress. Gently, Marcos eased the SCIDS gloves from Tori’s hands and slipped them into the pocket of his suit coat. Then, skimming his fingertips over her cheek, he leaned close, whispering, “Tori? Querida, can you hear me?” She nodded hesitantly, and lifted her eyes to his, the wariness in those obsidian depths punching him hard in the gut. “How did you find me? How did you know?” He never wanted to divulge that secret, or lay open his past, so badly in his life. Whatever it took to wipe that bleak distrust from her eyes. Yet, he knew he couldn’t. He was under strict orders to determine if Astoria Blair was a threat to the world at large, and not give away his mission. And, after the premonitions had about her, he couldn’t be sure that, genetically altered or not, Tori wasn’t a danger to everyone who crossed her path, himself included. “I have my sources,” he replied evasively, and felt his gut twist at the sadness that veiled her eyes and face. How could he expect her to trust him, when he couldn’t give her the same? “I see.” She turned her face away from him, her expression closing off. “Thanks for the rescue, Lancelot. You can just drop me anywhere.” “Astoria—”

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Her glare snapped to his face. “Quit calling me that! And, for your information, you had no right to kidnap me in the first place, Marcos Devante. I am not an ‘investment’!” He flinched at her direct stab, knowing he deserved it, and more besides. “I didn’t kidnap you.” “Oh, no?” She raised a brow in sardonic humor. “And what would you call it?” His hand lifted, and he let his finger trail down her cheek as he moved to tip her face toward him. Leaning in, he murmured, “Rescuing you.” He moved in, intent on tasting her lips, but Tori turned her head at the last minute, leaving his lips to skim over the soft skin of her cheek, instead. The set grimness of her expression told him hers had been as calculated a move as his own. She was telling him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t about to give in to him. Sighing, he sat back and closed his eyes as he struggled with his growing attraction to this totally unsuitable woman. “I’m not a damsel in distress.” A statement that could be debated both ways. He chose silence as the lesser of two evils. “I won’t fuck you.” He drew a deep, calming breath against the rush of irritation that struck him at the thought of Tori ‘fucking’ anyone. This comment, he had no intention of ignoring. “No one’s asking you to. I have no intention of ‘fucking’ you, either.” His eyes opened, and he let her see the heat burning there. “But I do intend to make love to you. Someday soon.” She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening, an emotion flickering there that he couldn’t place. Silence reigned for a full minute, before she broke it with a quiet, “I won’t work for you, Devante.” He shrugged. “We’ll see.” The tension was buzzing around them, but he could sense her latent weariness, beneath the anger that simmered on the surface. “Do you always get your way?” “Usually,” he allowed with a casual lift of his shoulders, unwilling to allow her to see how much that answer cost him. “You won’t, with me.” Dark humor tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re not the first woman to tell me that.” He heard her hiss of exasperated rage, and felt sardonic humor bubbling closer to the surface. “I hate you.” “Can’t say I’m particularly partial to you at the moment, either, querida.” Okay, so that was mostly a lie. But she could drive a saint mad, and he never made any claims to saintly patience.

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The landtrans began settling to the street for entry into the underground parking garage of his apartment building. “As soon as this thing stops, I’m gone.” “Thanks for the warning, querida.” His hand clamped around her wrist. “Let go!” She fumed, twisting in his grasp. “Not on your life.” Grimly, he maintained his hold. He hated hurting her, but Astoria was as slippery as an eel, and every time she slipped away from him, someone got killed. He wasn’t about to let that happen again; he was too afraid that next time, it might be her. She slumped back in her seat, glaring at him. “Why are you doing this?” “Why does Jason Carrick want you?” “I don’t know.” “Why does he want the disc?” She shrugged, averting her eyes. “No idea.” He tightened his grip on her wrist slightly. “You’re lying.” “Ow! Hey!” She winced. “All right, already. I opened the orb, okay?” Marcos sucked in a sharp breath as disbelief and horror poured through him. Madre de Dios! “Why?” She remained silent. Marcos’ rage skyrocketed. If she opened that orb… He swallowed hard. The possibility was too horrible to contemplate. He could have lived happily in his uncertainty, as long as nothing proved this. Tightening his grip on Tori’s arm, he shook her. “Damn it, why?” “It was an accident, okay? Now, lay off!” She spat the last through gritted teeth as she wrenched her arm loose. He slumped back as heartache washed through him. It was true. He didn’t want it to be, but that didn’t change that it was. Lawson Archer was right; Astoria Blair had been genetically altered by the Anaz-Voohri. Only an assassin with alien DNA could accidentally open the orb, according to Archer’s informant. Only one of the seven women was supposed to be an assassin. He closed his eyes, wrestling with shock and pain.

It explained why people kept dying.

Anywhere Astoria and the orb were in close proximity, people would die. She must have opened it in the Bon Dauphin, explaining the downed electrical line that had killed four people on the street – the reason he even looked at that damned footage from the Paris installation in the first place. His premonition had come too late.

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She must have opened it again in Pellier’s apartment, to retrieve the disc inside. The official investigation determined that the building exploded from faulty energy conduits in the basement. True, someone could have set up both events; but Marcos didn’t believe in coincidences. Not anymore. Carrick, or his agent in charge, must have had the orb on hand when they went to arrest Astoria at Pearl’s. That was the energy reading Marcos tracked, heading toward the building. It scaled off the register the closer it moved to the diner. Which meant that blast he saw was accidental – a malfunction of ORION’s equipment. A malfunction that broke out windows, wiped out the vehicle that discharged the blast, and killed five people, including Astoria’s two companions. Watching through long-distance lenses, Marcos had seen it all. Tori dashing into the alley, the arrest of the large black woman and the tall, skinny kid who must have been her son. The ORION detail was in the process of loading the two into the carrier when it exploded. Dios, what a mess! Marcos bit back the urge to swear as his eyes opened. He wanted to hit something; the tension boiling inside of him was quickly rising to the explosion point. He thought he knew what he had to do. The threat of the seven genetically altered women had to be eliminated. As long as she remained alive, Astoria Blair posed a deadly threat to every man, woman, and child on the planet. Marcos should be the first one to agree with that order; in fact, he was the only one he knew of that never questioned Archer’s logic.

That was why Mythos assigned him Astoria to track; his

premonition of the assassin scaling walls made Archer wary, especially when they learned that Astoria was a second-story thief. Archer asked him to track her, and determine if she was a threat. If she was a threat, eliminate her. Simple. Only, it wasn’t simple at all. Marcos glanced at Tori’s face, the soft lines of her beauty, and swallowed hard. He couldn’t imagine marring that beauty, or ending the vital energy and passion that radiated from her. Quite simply, he couldn’t imagine the world without Astoria Blair in it. He closed his eyes again and swore silently. Archer wasn’t going to like this. Unless… Marcos’ eyes popped open. Astoria was only a threat whenever she was near the orb. One or the other was the catalyst for those blasts. Therefore, removing Tori from Carrick’s scope should prevent any more deaths. He frowned. To do that, Tori would have to disappear. A smile tugged at his lips. He knew just how to do it, too.

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CHAPTER NINE

Tori sighed in exasperation, twisting her hand in its iron-hard confinement. “You can let go, now.” Marcos shot her a sardonic look. “And have you disappear again? Not in this lifetime, querida. You get into too much trouble on your own.” She rolled her eyes. This trust thing of his was going to be the death of her. “We’re in a freaking elevator, Devante. Where am I going to go?” Dark humor twitched at his lips. “I wouldn’t put anything past you, Astoria.” Tori clenched her teeth, silently and slowly counting her breaths, forcing her temper under control before she murdered this man. She was so damned tired, she’d probably collapse midway through, anyway. She settled for glaring wearily at him. “Look, I’m beat, and I just lost two very dear friends. Do you think you could cut me a little slack, for once? I need to sleep, and I’ve got nowhere left to go; I’m not going to be running out on you tonight.” His expression softened, causing Tori’s heart to catch, even as his grip loosened.

He still

maintained a light hold on her hand, though. She was certain that was a precaution on his part. “What about tomorrow?” She heaved a sigh. She expected this interrogation, ever since she began putting pieces together in the landtrans. She’d hoped he would hold off until the morning; she was really wiped out. Apparently, her rotten luck was holding just fine. “Tomorrow I’ll be out of your hair.” His jaw tightened, and she watched the grimness return. “I thought you said you had nowhere left to go.”

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Tori closed her eyes, and Electra’s face sprang instantly to mind, causing her throat to close with fear. Electra needed her. Tori didn’t doubt her friend was still alive; she could feel it. Electra was in trouble. “My friend is missing.” “It doesn’t pay to be your friend, does it?” Those words, spoken with such quiet sympathy, slapped Tori hard, driving the breath from her lungs as pain crashed down around her. He was right. Electra was the only friend she had left, now. She couldn’t fail. Tori’s shoulders squared and her back straightened as determination flowed through her. She wasn’t going to fail her friend. Not this time. “She was kidnapped by ORION.” His dark eyebrows rose. “You know this how?” “I figured it out during the ride.” “You lost me.” She sighed in exasperation. “Pearl…” Her voice caught and wavered with pain. Swallowing hard, she pushed past the wave of grief, and continued, “Pearl and Jazz said she disappeared. They didn’t think it was voluntary.” “And this has what, exactly, to do with ORION?” She snorted a disbelieving laugh. Was he being deliberately thick? “Are you kidding? Who else would want to kidnap her? Electra’s the leader of Medusa’s Hand.” His eyes widened the merest fraction. “Okay. I’m listening.” “ORION thugs stole the orb – whatever the hell good that does them, since I’ve got the only usable disc – from me in Paris and killed Jake. Then they tried to arrest me at the auction. And they killed Pearl and Jazz. Well, I’m small potatoes compared to Electra. ORION’s been tracking Medusa’s Hand for years, trying to ferret them out. If anyone was going to kidnap Electra, it’d have to be ORION.” Marcos’ eyes narrowed on her, his gaze growing intent. “And you’re going to what? Just charge in there and demand they release her?” Enraged heat flooded Tori’s face. Damn it, when he said it like that, she sounded immature and inexperienced, and she was neither! “I’m going to help my friend, whatever it takes.” “Then you’re either very brave, or very suicidal.” “They won’t kill me.” He snorted derisively. Tori blinked. Was that actually a laugh? “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, querida.”

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“I am, or I’d already be dead. Carrick said he wanted me alive, at the auction. I have to believe he still does.” He was staring straight ahead, at the metal doors of the elevator, as a tic worked just beneath his right eye. Uh-oh. She already knew that meant he was upset about something. That same tic had been working, off an on, since she’d met him. “What are you planning?” He finally asked in a quiet voice. “A trade.” Peace slid over Tori as she finally came to grips with the decision she made in the landtrans. This was the right thing to do; this was why Pearl and Jazz had wanted her to escape. She could free Electra. “ORION releases Electra and promises never to go after her again.” “And what do they get?” His voice had grown raspy and harsh in a way she found almost frightening. Tori drew herself up straight. “Me.” Marcos exploded into motion so suddenly Tori barely had time to gasp in surprise as he whirled her to face him, backing her against the wall of the elevator, his body pressed against hers and his hot breath rushing against her face as he grated out, “You will not do anything of the sort.” Then his mouth crushed down on hers, driving every protest – every thought except the heat pouring through her and the feel of his strong, hard body pressing against hers – from Tori. Her hands fisted in the sleeves of his suit jacket as he held her upper arms pinned tightly to the smooth, cool metal, and a low, needy moan purred through her. God, did this man know how to kiss! Even driven by the anger and fear she tasted in his assault now, he had the power to make her feel safe, and free, in his arms. “Dios.” He tore his mouth from hers, planting branding kisses over her throat as his hands slid down, his thumbs brushing the aching swells of her breasts, until he was grasping her hips, pulling her against him tightly. “I can’t stay away from you.” His words dumped ice water over Tori’s run-amok libido. She needed sex, right now, to wipe out the horror and pain that lingered in her. But Marcos Devante wasn’t a scratch for her itch; he had the power to destroy her. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she believed it with every fiber of her being. Marcos could hurt her worse than anything. “Oh, God.” She twisted, breaking his hold, and brought her hands up against his chest, shoving him away. “We can’t do this.” He opened his mouth to respond, but the elevator beeped, announcing the penthouse, and cut off whatever he was going to say. Dragging a hand roughly though his hair, Marcos clenched his jaw and backed off, stalking off the elevator, leaving Tori to debate the wisdom of following him. Clearly, Marcos was wrestling some serious demons, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be around for the battle,

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or its aftermath. A yawn caught her off-guard, and she leaned heavily against the door of the elevator. She was exhausted. And she told him the truth; she had nowhere left to go. Sure, she could go back to her hotel, but ORION, and Carrick, could tail her easily in this state. She was so wiped she could barely stay upright. She needed rest. As if he noticed her hesitance, Marcos rasped, “You can stay in the same room you were in last night. I’m sure you can find it on your own.” With that, he stalked toward his office and she winced as, just after the door slid closed, she heard something impact the wall, hard. Wearily, she wove her way to the room she occupied the night before and fell, fully-clothed, onto the bed, welcoming the oblivion of sleep.

Marcos stood at the window of his office, staring morosely out at the vivid mid-afternoon sky. His hand ached and he had to admit it was probably a stupid move, punching the wall like that. But he had to punch something; he had no other way to release the tension that gripped him. We can’t do this. “Damn it to hell!” He swore harshly, as her words rushed over him again. Knowing she was right, knowing he couldn’t get involved with Tori, didn’t make the craving go away. His attraction to her was interfering with his ability to do his job as a member of Mythos and his premonitions, except where she was concerned. He was entirely too aware of Tori, every minute of the day and night. The small, optiglass medallion around his neck suddenly began to glow. Marcos blinked as he watched the glow expand from the medallion’s center, reflecting in the windowpane, and his fingers reached to brush over the St. Michael’s medallion. It was a signal to call in. Each Mythos operative had a similar device, suited to their personality and their task. Because Marcos dealt with equipment that often responded adversely to high frequency sound and radio waves, he and Archer had finally settled on the light signal. Whenever Archer needed Marcos to contact him, he sent a signal that caused the optiglass to glow a bright blue. If Marcos needed an emergency assist, a press of the medallion’s clasp would transfer an emergency signal directly to the nearest Mythos installation. Marcos rubbed a hand over his face wearily and winced as pain shot through the injured appendage. He knew what Archer wanted. He just couldn’t deliver it. That realization brought a frown to his face. As much as it went against everything he was, Marcos knew he was going to lie to his friend. Until he could figure out a way to destroy that orb, Astoria Blair was going to disappear. Reaching into his suit jacket, he extracted the special phone and punched the connection. “Devante.”

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“It’s about time,” Archer’s grim voice snapped in his ear. “Patience is a virtue.” There was a sharp bark of laughter. “You sanctimonious bastard.” It was a common enough response from Archer, meant without malice. But, Tori’s accusation from the other night ringing in his head, that comment wasn’t nearly as amusing as normal. He settled grimly into his desk chair. “So, why was it so important I contact you?” “What do you know about an ORION personnel carrier exploding on a Harlem street corner?” Marcos sighed heavily. He’d known this was coming. “Enough to know it was no accident.” Archer swore. “Blair?” Marcos stiffened as a protective wave he didn’t dare contemplate crashed through him. After all, Archer was right. Tori had caused that. “Yes.” “You still tossing around that theory of yours that there’s another artifact out there?” Marcos rubbed his face. “It’s not a theory. Kin missed an orb. ORION has it, now.” Archer swore again. “Any idea what it does?” “I have a theory.” “I thought you might. It have anything to do with Astoria Blair?” “Si,” Marcos admitted quietly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “She retrieved it from Bon Dauphin, and accidentally opened it. That prompted the downed power line. She opened it again in an apartment building, and read the disc. I think there was a trigger command in that corruption program—” “Whoa.” Archer’s voice was tinged with concern. “You must have one hell of a spy in place, Minos.” Marcos grimaced. Now came the difficult part. “I had Astoria Blair in custody.” “Tell me you didn’t kill her? I swear to God you’ve been hanging around Ajax to much. If you’d call in—” “No.” That much was easy; that was at least the truth. “What the hell’s going on?” Static erupted over the normally clear channel. “She escaped.” Not entirely true, since he let her walk out the door, but he knew Tori; she’d have found a way to escape, even if he shackled her to the bedpost. Marcos could hardly hear anything. Something was overloading the network. Archer loosed a string of expletives that nearly brought a wry smile to Marcos’ face. “So… Anazvoohri…running…streets of New… Damn it, Marcos—” Marcos adjusted his receiver, changing over to a higher setting. The popping and crackling continued.

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“She got blown up in the blast, Archer.” Even as the words slid from his mouth, Marcos prayed Archer wouldn’t notice his hesitation. This was the lie, and it could blow up in his face, big time. There was silence. Marcos squeezed his eyes closed, and the image of Tori’s sleeping face, so vulnerable and innocent, and so achingly beautiful, slid into his mind, along with the prickling certainty that she needed his help, whether she’d admit it or not. He couldn’t abandon her, and he knew now that he’d never be able to kill her. “Archer, Astoria Blair is a dead woman. Archer?” Nothing. The connection was totally dead. And, as the words left his mouth, he heard a tiny gasp, and looked up to find a rumpled-looking Tori standing in the doorway, her eyes wide in disbelief and terror.

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CHAPTER TEN

Astoria Blair is a dead woman. Those words, spoken in Marcos’ grim voice, stabbed through Tori’s sleep-muddled brain like a knife. There was no mistaking the threat in that statement, or what it meant, and she felt something deep inside her rip open and bleed. She trusted him! She cried in his arms and believed in the softness she saw in his olive-brown eyes. She kissed him and let him near her in ways she still wasn’t sure she understood. And all the while, he played her. Marcos Devante intended to kill her! Tori didn’t wait around to hear more; she didn’t have to. The shocked, soul-sick look in Marcos’ eyes told her everything she needed to know. Spinning on her heel, she fled for the elevator, one thought pounding through her brain. She had to get out of here! She heard Marcos’ hurried footfalls behind her, and terror-induced adrenaline surged through her. Oh, God. He was going to kill her now! She jammed her finger repeatedly over the elevator call button, muttering, “C’mon. Please. Oh, God, please.” “Tori.” His voice was a raw rasp, even as his hand closed over her wrist, drawing her around. “Let go of me!” She screeched, not caring that she sounded nearly hysterical. She felt damned close to hysteria. Futilely, she yanked against his strong grasp. “Tori.” The soft, gravelly quality of his voice pierced her panic, and it registered. He just called her Tori. Twice. With a gasp, her eyes flew to his, and the gentle, hungry light there took the remainder of her breath away. “It’s not what you think, querida.” That slapped her with the return of reality and the words she overheard. Her defenses snapped back into play, and she glared up at him sardonically. “I think I’m going to love hearing how.” “You said it yourself,” he reminded her in a husky growl that shot along her nerves as his strong, warm fingers absently caressed the inside of her wrist. “Astoria Blair is dead.”

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“That’s different,” she managed in a hoarse whisper. God, she was too tired to fight, even after the nap she’d managed. And she was far too emotionally fragile for this conversation. “I don’t think of myself that way. But you do.” “Not anymore,” he growled, just before his mouth covered hers in a kiss that shot waves of pure, healing fire clear to Tori’s bleeding soul.

She kept getting more addictive, with every taste. Marcos groaned as he took the kiss deeper, diving into her warm, sweet mouth to taste the hot passion that churned between them. Dios, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed her too much; Tori had imprinted herself in his very blood, and he couldn’t banish her, waking or sleeping. Fantasies of her had been invading his dreams nearly as often as premonitions. Ever since he started his surveillance and she crashed into his life, he was losing his grip on sanity. Tori’s lips clung to his, a sweet torment that sucked away his will as he drank in her soft moans of pleasure and tasted her arousal. His hands slid over her possessively, outlining each perfect curve, and he reveled in the way her body responded to him so intensely. He yanked his mouth from hers, his breath hissing out on a groan, as she pressed into his touch, and he felt the tight peaks of her nipples through the thin layers of material between them. Dios, but she felt like heaven. “Tori,” he groaned as he yanked at the static lock of her shirt, ripping it open so that he could drink in the sight of her, all smooth, pale skin, with dark lace cupping her tight-tipped breasts. “Dios, you’re so beautiful…” His hands molded over her breasts, his thumbs feathering over her aroused nipples, and her little moan of pleasure shot through him, gripping him with the need to have her in his bed, his throbbing erection buried deep inside her. He shut his eyes with a groan, trying valiantly to stave off his desires. He didn’t want to frighten her. Tori arched into his touch, murmuring, “Not…bad for a dead woman, huh?” Those words were ice water tossed over Marcos. Dios, he was in big trouble. One taste of her lips, and he’d forgotten the most important thing – keeping Tori alive and safe. With a sharply indrawn breath, he released her, backing away a step. “What?” She demanded, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him. “Sleep while you can,” he instructed brusquely, turning away from the too-tempting sight of her standing there with her shirt hanging open and that beautiful body exposed. He was only a man, after all, and Tori Blair was enough to tempt a saint. “We leave tonight.”

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“Leave?” She sounded as if he slapped her, her voice radiating with hurt and anger. Damn, he hated knowing he upset her. “Where are we going?” He sighed heavily, closing his eyes though he kept his back to her. This was the part of his plan hardest to execute. It required trusting Tori to do exactly what he told her to. “Astoria Blair is dead. Therefore, you, Tori, are going to disappear. I’m taking you to my house in—” “Like hell!” She exploded into motion, her tone engulfed in a rage as captivating as her passion had been. Oblivious to her state of dishabille, Tori turned and jammed her finger over the elevator call button again. “You don’t own me, Marcos Devante,” she muttered in a quietly infuriated voice that he swore held an undertone of sorrow. Her back was to him when he turned, and yet her entire posture screamed pain, rather than righteous fury. “I’m not a goddamned puppet.” “Tori—” His voice cracked with the force of sudden understanding. Dios, he’d hurt her… She spun around, and the fiery eyes she raised to his blazed with anguish. “Couldn’t you have asked me, first? Damn it, Devante, I’m a big girl. I can take the truth.” Not this truth. Marcos clamped his jaws shut over the words. There was no way he could tell Tori the real reason he wanted to take her to his home in Vermont. It was remote, isolated from any largely populated areas; and it was far away from ORION, Jason Carrick, and that damned orb. Tori would cease to be a threat, or a target, up there. “I’m going to Vermont,” he said quietly, instead. “I want you to come with me.” She stopped, and blinked at him in disbelief. “What’s in Vermont?” He looked into her wary eyes, and realized that there was one reason he could give her to go with him, one reason that wasn’t the entire truth, but was at least a part of it. “My home.” “Your— Why?” Tori’s arms hugged across her chest in a move he was sure was designed to comfort her. It snugged up those amazing breasts, giving him a tantalizing view of the darkened edge of her areolas. His throat went dry and he had to swallow hard before he could answer her. “Because I want you to see where I really live. And I want you safe.” She frowned, and he could see that awesome mind of hers was working, weighing his statement. An absurd shaft of hope shot through his gut, and he found himself holding his breath as he waited for her answer. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Tori released her breath in a regretful sigh as she shook her head and raised sad eyes to his face. “I’m sorry, Marcos. I have to stay here.”

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“Why?” His voice was raw, and he didn’t give a damn. All he knew was that he had to convince Tori to leave the city. The sense of approaching danger skittered along the back of his neck; a very familiar sense that told him his feeling was a premonition. “Because ORION’s here.” He reached out, then. He couldn’t stop himself any longer. He could feel her slipping away from him and he had to touch her, had to reinforce that contact. His fingers skimmed over her cheek as, in a husky voice, he murmured, “That’s why you should leave.” “No.” She shook her head, her eyes growing hard and cold with determination. “Carrick knows where Electra is. I have to find her, Marcos.” And that was when it hit him. She’d keep trying. Even if it got her and everyone else in this city killed, Tori wasn’t going to give up on her friend. His eyes closed briefly as he fought the confusion that realization generated in him. The only thing he knew was that he had to get Tori out of the city, and it wouldn’t be tonight. Glumly, he nodded. “Very well. We’ll stay, for now. But, Tori,” he tilted her face up to his, one finger beneath her chin. “You have five days. If you don’t find your friend in that time, we go to Vermont, anyway.” His lips flickered slightly. “Even if I have to kidnap you.”

Tori smiled up into Marcos’ grim expression as that flicker of amusement touched his face. She wondered what he’d look like if he actually relaxed and smiled. He definitely needed to loosen up, or he was going to die of an early heart attack. Her own heart stalled at the thought, though why that idea clenched a fist of dread in her gut, Tori didn’t know. “Five days,” she agreed quietly. “And you’ll do your searching from this apartment.” Tori scowled. That was going a little far. “That’s not fair!” Baleful humor played in his eyes. “Life never is.” “Don’t give me that bullshit, Devante,” she snapped. “How am I supposed to find Electra if I’m stashed away here? It’s not like I’m a wanted felon, for fuck’s sake!” “Actually, querida,” he murmured, an enigmatic smile that took her breath away spreading over his lips, “it’s exactly like that.” He shifted toward her, dark fire flaring in his eyes, and trailed one finger over the thudding pulse in her neck and down, skimming through the cleft her closed stance created between her breasts. Tori shivered, and bit off a groan as his fingertip delved lightly beneath the lace, sliding over her tingling nipple.

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“ORION wants to find you; they already have the orb, but they need you to make it work,” he explained in that husky, accented whisper that drove her wild, while his finger gently worked her throbbing nipple. Oh, God; she was going to burn up… “Once they get what they want, you’ll become disposable.

There are other people looking for you, too.

People who believe you’re a threat, a

programmed killing machine.” His finger slid away from its delectable torture of her nipple, and Tori couldn’t hold back her frustrated moan. Her arms fell away, her shirt sliding from her arms and leaving her totally exposed except for the scrap of black lace that displayed more than it hid of her breasts. As Marcos’ touch disappeared, she opened her eyes to the flare of fire dancing in his eyes. “Who are these people?” She managed on a ragged breath, so turned-on she could hardly stand, let alone think. Her knees wobbled, and she needed – needed – Marcos to touch her. “What do they want from me, Marcos?” “They want you dead.” The words rasped from his throat as his hand slipped around her back, and she felt his fingers brush her skin as he worked the clasp of her bra loose. “And you?” She whispered as Marcos eased a finger beneath each bra strap and hooked them down her arms until the scrap of material was held up only where it caught on her tight, aching nipples. “What do you want, Marcos?” A low growl rumbled in his chest, and he inserted his fingers beneath the lacy edges of her bra, torturing her nipples until Tori gasped and arched, breathing his name. “I want you,” he rasped, pulling the fabric away as he lowered his head, and she felt his hot, wet mouth close over one aching nipple. She moaned, pushing closer, and cried out as he bit down lightly, drawing hard on the nub and sending fire flashing from her breast to her womb. God, she’d never felt like this. Sex had always been comfortable before; warm tingles, and a nice, easy slide into a sated, calm state. Not now. She didn’t feel comfortable at all. She felt tight and achy, and she was sure she’d explode if she didn’t get some relief soon; yet, she didn’t want this feeling to ever end. It felt too damned good. She arched into his suckling mouth and plucking fingers, and slid her hands down his back, kneading corded muscle until she felt the roar of his breath against her skin as he groaned with pleasure. She wanted to feel his skin, to know what his body looked like beneath all those clothes he wore. Biting her lip against the sensations he created within her with every stroke, Tori slid her hands around and tugged at the closure of his shirt, slipping her hands inside as the material parted. Her hands touched hot, smooth hardness, and she moaned at the feel of him. God, he felt so good. Marcos loosed a sound halfway between a groan and a growl and straightened abruptly, scooping her into his arms, his mouth closing over hers in needy possession before, with a grimly determined look

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on his face, he strode toward the short hallway she already knew led to the bedrooms. Tori’s heart skipped a beat and arousal shot through her. Still… This was Marcos. Maybe he meant to deposit her in her room, in hopes she’d stay there. “What are you going to do?” She asked in a whisper as she clung to him for balance. She couldn’t help the wary fear in her voice; she was putting it on the line, here. If he rejected her… “I’m going to make love to you,” he growled, his expression steely and his eyes burning with dark flames. A small, wry smile flickered on her face. “You can call it sex, you know. I don’t—” He silenced her with a hard kiss that surprised her in its desperation. Desperate wasn’t a term she’d have ever thought to apply to Marcos Devante, before now. “No,” he rasped as he pulled back, his grip tightening possessively. “I can’t.” She was still absorbing the implications of that statement a moment later when Marcos released his hand from its grasp on her thigh to open the door to what she assumed was his bedroom. She got a brief glimpse of the black and white – more of the former and less of the latter – room before Marcos lowered her to the plush comfort of his bed, and his grim features and fiery eyes filled her vision as he bent over her, sealing her mouth beneath a deep kiss that sank clear to her soul. She arched up, sliding her hands into his hair, urging him closer. Marcos’ hands were everywhere, sliding over her skin, torturing her to madness. Tori arched her hips willingly as he skimmed her pants down her hips and legs and off, tossing them aside. Then, as his hand moved up the inside of her thigh, Tori drew away from his kiss, laying one hand against his chest, feeling the hammering of his heart, as she offered him a small, wry smile. “Whoa, sugar. Aren’t you a little overdressed?” “No,” he responded, one side of his mouth lifting in the start of a smile, and Tori’s breath froze for one heart-stopping moment. Then his fingers skimmed over the soft flesh between her thighs, and her breath left on a shuddering moan. “Marcos…” “Shh, querida,” he whispered as he covered her open mouth with his own, silencing her with a series of soft, soul-stealing kisses, even as he slipped one finger smoothly into her wet, needy core. Tori gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation even that gentle touch created. Oh, God, she was going to come, just from his touch. Marcos’ fingers were pure magic, brushing over sensitive spots with a lightness that had her arching in sensual frustration, and delving deep into the core of her, until she was sure she would come completely unglued if he didn’t stop soon. But, God, she didn’t want him to ever stop.

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She heard a hissed oath, like a breath exhaled through clenched teeth, and her eyes opened to the raw intensity of the hunger in Marcos’ eyes. His gaze was glued on her, the olive flames following every arch, twist, and flutter of her body. She reached down, grasping his wrist to halt his motions, and bring his eyes to hers. “You are overdressed,” she whispered, removing his hand from her body and rolling up to her knees before him. Silently, her eyes locked with his, she slid her hands to his neck, and a small smile flitted across her face. “I knew it.” His mouth pulled up at the corner again, a little more this time, as his hand caressed the outside of her bare thigh. “Knew what, querida?” The husky timbre of that endearment sent a bolt of sensation straight to her core. Tori sucked in breath, and flicked her fingers under the already open collar of his shirt. “When we came in, earlier, you were wearing a suit coat and tie. In fact, I’ve never seen you without them, before today. But you get rid of them as soon as you know you’re alone, don’t you?” She continued her teasing trek, unfastening the entire shirt. “Under all these conservative, old-fashioned buttons, you’re really a bad boy, aren’t you, Devante?”

She was flirting with him, Marcos realized in stunned disbelief as he felt Tori’s warm, capable hands brushing against his chest with every button she undid. She had a come-hither smile on her face that would fell a saint, but her eyes were shy and uncertain, and her words were pure bravado. Her fingers had finished their innocent enough occupation, and proceeded straight into downright sin. Marcos groaned as her hands boldly perused every inch of his chest and shoulders, pushing his shirt off his arms. Dios. She was the devil incarnate. He couldn’t avoid temptation; he had to touch her. Feathering his thumbs over her plump, pebbled nipples, he heard her gasp, before she returned the favor with a boldness that sent heat twisting through his belly and groin. Dios, but the woman was an erotic dream come true. Watching her face through slitted eyes, he saw hunger and pleasure, and just enough uncertainty to twist his heart as well as his gut. Santo Cristo, please, no. This was, as Tori had said, supposed to be about sex. There was no place here for his already-wounded heart. But, Dios, when he looked at her, those eyes soft and warm like fresh tar, and her smile, so mysterious and yet innocent, he forgot all about betrayal, and deceit, and pride. All he could think about was Tori. She reached for the fastening of his pants then, and a groan hissed between his teeth as her fingertips brushed over the length of his engorged flesh as she released the fastenings, freeing him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

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Tori gasped in surprise as Marcos suddenly lifted her from the center of the bed and pulled her to straddle his lap as he drove the thick, hard length of his erection to the hilt in her body, briefly driving the breath from her lungs. Her inner muscles stretched and, eyes closed, she sighed with pleasure at the feel of him in her. God, but he felt so good… Her nipples tingled, and her body clenched around him as his deep groan of pleasure rumbled over her. She opened her eyes, and felt her heart stop beating for a full minute. Marcos’ face was drawn in lines of rapture that looked almost painful. His breath sawed in and out of his darkly tanned chest, and his head was tipped back slightly, his eyes closed. She watched his throat move, and couldn’t resist a taste. Leaning forward, Tori brushed soft, exploratory kisses over Marcos’ throat, bringing a warning growl from him. She shifted, and his hands flew to her hips, holding her still as a groan sawed out from between his teeth. His eyes opened then, and he met her gaze as he managed a rasped, “Don’t.” She smiled wickedly at the raw heat in his gaze, contracting and releasing inner muscles, wringing another growl from him. “Don’t what?” “Dios,” he muttered, his voice thick and tight. “Don’t move. Don’t do that again.” “Why not?” She breathed, her hands moving over his chest, feeling the rippling muscles that told her he was barely holding onto control. “Querida, you feel so damned good right now that if you move, this is going to be all over.” There was a thread of soft humor in his voice, and his lips twitched. Tori’s heart stalled again, and her body clenched involuntarily. Marcos uttered a breathless oath, and rolled them both in a move so sudden Tori gasped. Then, he was kissing her – those deep, mind-stealing kisses that made her wet and hungry for him – as he drove in and out of her with a desperate, greedy force that released the last of her inhibitions, sending her plummeting from her controlled ledge into erotic madness. And, as her body convulsed with the spasms of a release so deep it rocked her soul, Tori came up against her long-buried heart, and knew she was in big trouble.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Marcos paced his office restlessly, rubbing the scar on the back of his neck in what anyone who knew him well knew was a sure sign that he was frustrated and confused. He was here, pacing in the near dark of his office, because he couldn’t stay in his room watching her any longer. It was killing him. Closing his eyes, he pictured Tori as he last saw her, curled up asleep and gloriously naked in his bed, that sated, blissful smile on her face. His heart thumped hard and his body reacted to the image. Marcos groaned, forcing his eyes open. He didn’t need to be thinking about Tori right now; he should never have let his control slip like that. He should never have made love to her. He had a mystery to solve, and a woman to protect from herself and everyone else. He needed to stay focused; thoughts of Tori impeded that focus. She needs your protection, not your lust. That thought settled like a lead weight, and Marcos sighed heavily. Tori wasn’t going to stay put long, especially not after what they did. He made the mistake of showing her how easily she could get around his control and wrap him around her slim, capable finger. She did it more easily than he ever imagined. With a muttered oath, Marcos slumped into his seat and reached for the security imprint pad built onto the front of his top desk drawer. He pressed his thumb to the pad, and waited while it scanned his print. He heard the tumbler pop and pulled the drawer open, reaching inside for the palm-sized case that was one of the drawer’s contents. These were his secret – only he and Merril even knew they existed. He developed them on his own, working late into the night in one of the secure labs at the Staten Island facility. Flipping open the case, he picked up a small plastic vial containing one of the tiny bugs. He created them four years ago to keep an eye on Elena.

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Marcos frowned as he realized he did it because he hadn’t trusted her. Something told him, even then, that she was using him. Had the fear of betrayal existed so early in their relationship? Why hadn’t he seen it? Each bug was barely bigger than a speck of dirt, but they all carried a powerful tracker that, when activated by a signal from his watch, could give him the location of its wearer for nearly five hundred miles. Only the special scanner built into his watch could trace the signal. They were the perfect solution to his current dilemma. He knew Tori would try to leave; with this, he’d be able to find her, no matter where she disappeared to. You have to trust me. Her words, in that soft, firm voice, stabbed through him and he hesitated. She knew he didn’t trust her; yet, she let herself go twice today, trusting him to catch her. Marcos drew a shuddering breath as he realized he wanted to trust Tori. He wanted to believe she wouldn’t run from him, and that she wouldn’t betray him. But the memory of Elena was too strong. Elena had been the perfect woman for him – polished, sophisticated, innocent, and she needed him to save her. Still, when it came time to keep her promises, she betrayed him. How could tough, reckless Tori be any different? Rising grimly to his feet, Marcos strode back to his bedroom. He had to stay focused. Tori was a danger; he had to remember that. Marcos paused, the breath leaving his lungs in a rush as he stopped just inside the doorway of his bedroom. How could any woman who looked so beautiful be so dangerous? Tori lay on her back in the wide bed, his black sheets tangled around her, contrasting with the pallor of her skin in the soft spill of muted early morning light through the skylight. The edges of the sheet wafted up and down over her perfect breasts, clinging just barely to the softly puckered tips that still bore the proof of his attentions earlier. Her hair spilled over the stark white pillows like dark water, and her hands rested lightly, one on her belly and one beside her face, against her body. She looked…angelic. An erotic angel who’d just tasted her first sin. Marcos sucked in a breath as he felt his body stir with renewed desire. Shaking his mind free of the thought of easing aside the sheet and tasting every inch of her sweet flesh, Marcos crossed the room and reached carefully for the jade pendant that lay slipped to one side her neck. Picking it up gently, he tipped the microdot tracker from the vial into the deep indentation of the jade tiger’s eye, where it would be sure to stick. Then, unable to help himself, he looked down at her peaceful smile, and couldn’t resist tasting her lips. Leaning over her, he covered her mouth in a tender kiss. She tasted so good…

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Tori sighed and stretched, her fingers stroking up his neck and into his hair as her mouth opened beneath his in a sleepy, welcoming kiss that plunged straight through Marcos’ heart. He should pull away; but, Dios ayudo, he didn’t have the strength. The kiss stretched, gentle and unhurried, before Tori finally drew back with a drowsy smile, her dreamy eyes soft and vulnerable in a way that punched him with his deceit. “What time is it?” she murmured. His jaw clenched, and he fought the deeper feelings watching her stirred in him, and forced control of both his body and his heart. “Time for you to get up. We have business to discuss.” He might as well have reached out and slapped her. Her head snapped up and her eyes grew wide with hurt, before she closed down, and that familiar wall he hated, but needed, snapped closed across her eyes. “You do know how to make a girl feel all warm and fuzzy, Devante,” she muttered caustically as she rolled to the opposite side of the bed and rose, dragging the sheet with her in a move so modest it caused a shaft of surprise to jolt through Marcos. But, mustering command of his emotions, he struck back with a comment sure to incite her anger and remind him why he didn’t like her. “I’ve already seen it all, querida,” he reminded her, letting a sardonic smirk flash across his face. Sure enough, she jerked upright, her shoulders stiffening, and turned to glare at him. “Fine. Have it your way.” In a move he should have expected, but that surprised the hell out of him, she threw out her hands, letting the sheet drop away as she turned to face him fully, her fierce eyes challenging. Staring at her, Marcos nearly swallowed his tongue. Sure, he’d seen her body up close and in detail; that didn’t mean he was immune to it. Quite the opposite, his body reminded him as his heart tripped over itself and arousal swelled in his groin. With a low oath, Marcos turned away from the sight, before he gave in to the urge to drag her back into the bed and lay claim to every inch of her, body and soul. “Get dressed,” he snapped tightly, barely holding onto his resolve. “I want to talk to you about finding the Screamer.” Without another glance, he stalked out the door, before his body could talk him into something his heart would eventually regret.

Ten minutes later, he was pacing his office when the door opened, and he looked up to find Tori, looking freshly showered and dressed in only his robe, from the looks of it, standing in the doorway. A small smile tugged at him. She looked like a drowned waif in that robe, the material engulfing her smaller form.

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“Don’t you ever smile?” she asked quietly as she moved into the room. His eyes ran over her, looking so adorable, and so completely at home in his life, and his jaw clenched. “I thought I told you to get dressed.” “Yeah, well, my clothes smell like a dirty gym locker,” she returned with an easy smile as she crossed the room to curl up in one of the wingback leather chairs. “This was the best I could do.” Damn. He’d forgotten completely about her clothes. She only had the ones she was wearing when he scooped her up from that seedy hotel on 49th. “What do you need? There’s a full laundry service in this building.” “My clothes and gear.” She met his gaze levelly. “They’re at my hotel.” He blinked at her. Had she hit her head, at some point, or was she just this naïve? “ORION’s going to be watching for you. They’ve probably already ransacked and carted off the contents of your room.” A smug smile spread over her lush lips. “I doubt it.” She was playing with him. He could feel it. Marcos’ eyes narrowed. “Why?” “Because,” she twirled one long, dark strand of hair around her finger, watching the motion instead of him for a long moment before her mischievous eyes suddenly pierced him, that impish smile back on her face. “They’re watching the wrong hotel.” Marcos scowled. He wasn’t playing her games, damn it. He wanted straight answers. “I’d love to know how you’ve got that figured.” Frustration flashed in her eyes, followed by anger, as she swung her bare legs to the floor and sat up. “Damn it, Devante, you keep acting like I’m an inept kid, just playing at being a thief! I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen, and only got caught once. I know what I’m doing, and I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.” He turned away. She was right; he did have a tendency to underestimate her when it came to what she did. But he couldn’t tell her why; he couldn’t tell her that he wanted her to be inept enough to want to quit. “It’s still a risk we can’t take. We’ll buy you new clothes.” “And my gear?” She challenged. “You want me to find your missing prototype, right?” He answered her with a brusque nod, unable to voice what he really wanted from her. “Well, I can’t do it without my gear.” He turned to the desk, and pulled her gloves out of the pocket of the suit coat still draped over his chair. He tossed them to her without a word. “Great,” she said, smoothing the gloves over her lap. “But these’re only half of the SCIDS. The other half are in my work boots.”

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He frowned. “What happened to being prepared?” She snorted a laugh. “I was prepared. That’s why I had these on me. I was expecting to be chased by someone’s goons, at some point.” She shot him a playful grin that nearly short-circuited his brain. “What I wasn’t expecting was to get swept up by Lancelot himself and carried to a castle in the clouds. A girl likes a little advance warning about these things, Devante.” Tori angry, Tori sarcastic, Tori silent…those he could deal with. But Tori with that soft, teasing light in her eyes was just too much. Grimly, he turned away, heaving a sigh as he stared bleakly out the window. “All right. What do you need?” “To get my clothes and gear.” “Seriously,” he warned her darkly. “I am serious. Marcos, my gear’s all been specially modified for my use. I need that gear. I can find your Screamer without it if I have to, but that increases the risks of discovery or error, because I’ll be using untried, unmodified equipment.” His jaw clenched. This wasn’t in their deal, but he couldn’t take the chance that she was right. He couldn’t take the chance of Tori being arrested or hurt because of something as simple as equipment error. “Fine. Tell me which hotel, and I’ll send someone to collect your things.” She was silent for so long, he finally turned to glance at her, only to find her sad, dark eyes fixed on him. “What?” He growled tensely. That look in her eyes was getting to him, making him want to gather her up in his arms and promise her he’d do whatever it took to make her happy. Damn it, he had to stop thinking like that! She shook her head, her gaze still glued on him. “You really don’t smile. Why?” Marcos turned away, his hands clenching into shaking fists. He didn’t want to let her in. He distracted her from this question the first time; she wouldn’t fall for the trick a second time. Avoiding Tori when she set her mind to something was pointless. So, with a sigh, he admitted, “I stopped caring. It’s easy not to smile when you don’t feel.” He heard her tiny, indrawn breath, and didn’t dare turn around. He was too afraid that whatever he’d see in her face would shatter him completely. Silence fell for a long moment, walling them in their own thoughts. “It doesn’t sound easy,” Tori murmured at last, breaking the silence. “Why did you stop caring?” He paced back to the window, staring bleakly out at the New York City skyline as the past crashed over him. “I fell in love with the perfect woman.”

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He heard her gasp, and a sardonic smile tugged at his lips. Si, Elena had been perfect in every way, and she made him stop smiling. She took all the ease out of his life with her betrayal. He glanced at Tori, and something softened in his heart. She brought a different kind of charm into his life that was quickly becoming addictive. “Her name was Elena Santos; she was the daughter of a Mexican diplomat. Elena was everything I’d ever imagined finding in the perfect wife. She was smart, kind-hearted, beautiful, and, I thought, loyal. She was a devote Catholic, from a good family, and I was content to court her properly.” “What happened?” Tori’s voice sounded suspiciously tight, as if she was fighting something painful. “We were supposed to be married, three years ago. But, the day of the wedding, Elena came to tell me the truth. She accepted my proposal merely for the security of the wealth I could provide her and the escape from her father’s house. But she changed her mind; she didn’t want to marry me. She just wanted to be free.” He heard movement, and then Tori’s hand touched his arm lightly. “I’m sorry.” Whoever said that pain dulls with time was a fool. Remembered pain was still pain, and still burned a hole in his gut. Turning his gaze to Tori’s, he rasped, “You asked me once if I had any idea what it was like to be betrayed by someone who should have loved me. Are you happy with the answer?” Her eyes widened with distress, and then gentled as she stepped up to him, her arms slipping around his waist to hug him tightly. It was the most human, and caring, response he’d ever received, and it sank through his soul, soothing him. Wrapping his arms around her, he held on for dear life, absorbing her softness and warmth. Slowly, the feel of her body, covered only by his robe, penetrated the fog in his mind, and Marcos squeezed his eyes closed at the feel of her body pressed full against his, fighting the surge of need. He wanted to wipe away the pain of his past with Tori’s passion, and her comforting body. But that would be wrong, and he wouldn’t do it. Not to Tori. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted with a small, nervous laugh. “I’ve never loved anyone like that.” “Never?” The word emerged in a husky rumble as a hope he didn’t understand bloomed in his chest. “What about your friend; Pellier?” He caught the flicker of a sad, affectionate smile on her lips, and it wrenched his gut with a possessive knot he didn’t quite comprehend. “Jake was my friend. Yeah, we were lovers, occasionally, but I never loved him as more than friend; never like you loved Elena.” She tilted her head to cast him a curious glance that sent a spike of tender lust through his body. “Do you still love her?”

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He blinked. No one had ever asked him that question. His family never mentioned Elena, or the failed engagement. And Merril was studiously silent on the subject of his private life, except for the occasional mention of how he wasn’t getting any younger, and should be settled by now. Even Archer had never broached the subject of whether he ever got over Elena. However, when he tried to focus on it, he was surprised to realize he couldn’t even remember what she looked like. Vaguely, sure, but not those specific little details that come with love. Not the things that mattered. He shook his head. “No. Her betrayal quickly turned any love I had for her to bitterness and hate. It took a year, but I finally quit caring. Only, when I quit caring about what she did, I quit caring at all. The joy just went out of everything.” She regarded him for a long moment, as if trying to internalize something. Then, with a small, playful smile, she lifted one hand to his face. “Well, I’m not perfect like Elena, but I bet I can at least make you smile, again.” Marcos looked down into that open, mischievous expression, and his heart warmed under her sunlight. She was probably right. If anyone was up to the challenge of making him smile again, Tori would be the one to succeed. Planting a soft kiss on her upturned lips, Marcos released Tori and walked to his desk, picking up the phone. Quirking a brow at her, he asked, “Which hotel?” She flashed him a broad grin. “The Waldorf-Astoria, of course. Under the name Tara Preston.” “Tara Preston?” His brow furrowed. “Tori, if this is a con job…” She rolled her eyes. “It’s my traveling alias, Marcos.” Of course. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized that a thief of Tori’s caliber probably had at least a dozen aliases. “That’s why you think ORION’s at the wrong hotel. You checked into the Wyatt as Astoria Blair and that’s where they’ll be watching.” She threw him a wink that kindled a flame low in his gut as she leaned back against the wall next to the window, muted light dancing over her face, making her look like a nymph. Marcos drew a steadying breath, and punched the speed-dial that would connect him to his assistant’s office. Merril was always in early. “Minos Enterprises. Mr. Devante’s office.” “Merril, I need a favor from you.” Marcos half sat on the edge of his desk, his eyes glued on Tori as she fiddled with her necklace. Merril’s crusty chuckle filled his ear. “As much as you pay me, young man, you don’t have to ask for favors.”

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Marcos’ lips twitched. If Merril had been about five decades younger, he’d probably have long since married her. She was even more of a stickler for the rules than he was. “This goes above and beyond the call of duty, Merril. I need you to go to the Waldorf-Astoria and collect the personal possessions of a guest there.” “The name?” There was a distinct note of interest in Merril’s voice. It was rare when Marcos threw something at her that she didn’t see coming. She clearly hadn’t seen this; neither had he. But he barely noticed. He was too distracted by Tori, who, that sultry smile from last night back on her lips, was slowly edging open the top of the robe with stroking fingers that dipped into the neckline, only to shift aside material, exposing more skin with every trip. His blood rushed toward his groin so fast it left him dizzy. Dios, but she was the devil incarnate. He drew in a deep breath, clenching his free hand in an effort to hold back his groan. “Mr. Devante? Are you all right?” The sharp concern in his assistant’s voice snapped Marcos back from his lusty fantasies. Giving Tori a stern look, he mouthed, Behave, before answering Merril. “I’m fine. The name is Tara Preston.” “I see.” He was sure she did, by the speculative tone of her voice. Fortunately, he could trust Merril to be discreet. As for seeing… He was getting quite an eyeful himself, as Tori leaned back again, and the robe slipped open enough that he could see the creamy, almond-toned expanse of her skin. She’d bent one foot up on the wall, as well, and one smooth, toned thigh slipped free of the material, making Marcos’ throat go dry, remembering those long legs wrapped around him. With an effort, he pulled his attention back to his conversation. “And I want you to pull up all the security system schematics for the Staten Island facility. And find the blueprints, while you’re at it.” Merril made a confused sound. “Are you sure you’re all right? You already know the layout—” “I’m bringing in an independent consultant later today. I want to know how that prototype went missing.” There was a clicking noise, like fingers over a keyboard. “You got it. I’ll find those files and upload them to your system before I go and collect Ms. Preston’s things. Am I to assume they should be delivered to the penthouse?” “Yes. But be careful. If you see anyone suspicious, or if anyone appears to be following you, go straight back to the office.”

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“All right.” She didn’t ask why, or pry into what was going on. That was why Merril was indispensable to him. She kept her nose to her own business, unless she felt there was a reason she needed to get involved. “Will that be everything?” Marcos’ eyes skimmed over Tori as she shifted again, exposing more of her body through the ever-widening opening, and he rasped, “Si.” Hanging up the phone, Marcos met Tori’s hot, dark eyes, and huskily ordered, “Come here.” She chuckled. “You really are bossy, you know.” She pushed off from the wall, then, moving toward him with an easy grace that took his breath away. She moved like a cat on the prowl, all sleek, flowing muscle and skin. She came to a stop, just close enough that he could touch her if he stretched out his hand. “You asked for blueprints and schematics.” He nodded, scowling. He didn’t want to discuss his requests. He wanted Tori. So much for focus. “I did.” “Marcos.” Something in the tone of her voice brought his gaze up from the body he longed to devour. Tori’s eyes held a soft, hopeful light that stole away what was left of his breath, sending a tremble straight through his soul. “Sí, querida?” The huskiness of his query surprised him, as he wrestled with emotions he was too afraid to face. Marcos Devante feared nothing; nothing except the desperate clench of his heart at the thought of destroying that hope in her eyes. She edged a step closer, and he saw the rapid flutter of her pulse in her throat. She was terrified, but of what, he couldn’t tell. “Do you trust me, Marcos?” He closed his eyes on her hopeful face, biting back the pained groan that pressed against the walls of his chest. Did he trust her? No. Wanted her, yes. Needed her, most definitely. But trust was something earned by loyalty. And Tori ran from him every chance she got. His eyes opened slowly, to find her still standing before him, gazing at him expectantly. She ran from him every chance…except now! Now, she wasn’t running; she stood proud and tall before him, her body covered in only his robe, and her eyes stripped bare. Looking into that bold determination, the truth had never been easier to speak. “I want to.” Her hand rose and her fingertips brushed against his neck, sending a bolt of sweet lust straight to his groin. She smiled gently, but the lingering sadness in her eyes stabbed his heart.

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“That’s a start,” she murmured as she stepped into the space between his thighs and pressed her soft lips to his, and Marcos stopped thinking about the past and blame, and trust. All that existed was Tori.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

Tori glanced at the man walking beside her as they strode through the winding, mazelike corridors of Minos Enterprises that afternoon, and a smug grin spread over her face. Marcos might not have actually smiled, yet, but there was a definite change in his demeanor since yesterday. The deep grimness was gone from his eyes, and his aristocratic features were more relaxed and natural. She had done that. Tori’s heart gave a tiny kick as her gaze slid over him. No doubt about it; when he relaxed, Marcos Devante was one hell of a handsome man. “Like what you see, querida?” The amusement that rumbled in his voice nearly halted Tori in her tracks, blinking in surprise. Was he actually flirting with her? She recovered instantly, feigning a nonchalant shrug, her eyes twinkling as warm humor slid through her. “It’ll do, considering the rest of the scenery.” She flicked a wry glance at the empty corridor. “Why a maze, anyway?” “It makes people pay attention to where they’re going, and it’s security.” His lips quirked and trembled, and Tori held her breath. If he smiled, location be damned; she was going to kiss him until they were both breathless. She released her breath in a disappointed sigh as, in the next instant, his ironclad control won out, and his expression remained blandly unchanged. She really wanted to kiss him. Hell, she’d give anything to haul him into an empty office and have her wicked way with him. Her body warmed and trembled, and a grin slid over her face. It was amazing, how she went from barely aware of her body’s needs to a raging nymphomaniac in a single day. Marcos did that to her. She’d been hot to trot ever since their first kiss, two days ago, but she could have controlled the impulses, given time and distance. That, she chalked up to adrenaline and long abstinence. Now, it wasn’t just an

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itch; she was addicted to Marcos. They’d had wild, hot sex all last night – and then, again, in his penthouse office this morning – and she was still burning up with craving. It was almost scary. “What’s that grin for?” Marcos’ amused voice broke through her lascivious thoughts. “You look like you swallowed the canary, gatita. What’s on your mind?” “Sex,” she said unapologetically, flashing him a wicked grin. “You, me. Naked. Anywhere.” Suddenly, the grimness was back, like a shadow across his face. “Tori—” “Tara, remember?” She fingered the visitor’s pass hooked to the breast pocket of her jacket, and gave him a hot, playful look she’d felled more than one man with in the past. Of course, the one man she ever attempted to seduce with the pure intent of wanting him appeared to be immune to her. His eyes were dark, but not with desire, as he stopped dead in her path, bringing her up short as he turned toward her. “I don’t give a damn what you call yourself, querida,” he growled warningly. “What do you think we’re doing here?” Tori frowned. All right, he was starting to go weird on her. That intensity from the other day was back, but now it held an undercurrent that freaked her. Time to lighten this up, before she began to think he was giving her the old relationship speech she did her best to avoid. “Hopefully, going to your office. That’s where you said the schematics for your security systems are.” “Damn it, Tori!” He practically roared the words, his hands latching onto her upper arms, hard. “Don’t act dumb with me, tierna.” “You’re hurting me.” She twisted in his grasp, refusing to let him see just how much she was hurting, and not physically. His grip on her arms barely registered over the ache in her chest. She was not having this conversation; not with Marcos. Tori Blair didn’t do relationships, and she damned well wasn’t about to start now. Marcos’ breath hissed out on a curse, and his hold eased. “Tori, I’m—” She broke his grasp, rubbing her arms to soothe the only ache she could, and offered him a smile she didn’t feel to cover the pain swirling in her chest. “Forget it, Devante. This is business, remember? Your prototype for my friend. That was the deal.” He stilled, as if she slapped him, before that damnable blank wall closed over his face. Damn it, couldn’t the man feel anything? Then she remembered what he said about Elena, and her chest ached even worse, for reasons she didn’t want to contemplate. “About that deal,” he said with a sigh, as they began walking, again. “Do you have any proof that Electra Monroe is still alive?”

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“No,” she responded tightly. “Nothing except what I know, and what Pearl and Jazz mentioned. Electra’s been a thorn in ORION’s side for years; under her leadership, Medusa’s Hand has become virtually invisible. They were little more than a glorified gang when she took over; now they’re a welloiled machine, capable of bringing GSS and ORION to their knees, if unleashed.” He shot her a wary look. “And your friend holds that leash?” Tori nodded, unable to conceal her own worry over that fact. “As long as Medusa’s Hand had Electra to guide them, they’re a good counterbalance to ORION. With her missing, I’m afraid they could become violent and uncontrolled. There’s a lot of bitterness and rage in those people, Marcos. With Electra missing, they may decide they have nothing to lose…” “Making them ten times as dangerous if she turns up dead,” he acknowledged grimly. “All right, so it’s at least in Carrick’s best interest to keep her alive and well.” “For now,” she agreed quietly, unwilling to let him see the fear bubbling just beneath her calm surface. She was afraid the threat of all-out rebellion would only stay ORION’s hand for so long. Carrick’s need for revenge would eventually overcome even the threat of mass bloodshed.

Tense silence hung between them as they entered Merril’s office, and that silence grated on Marcos’ nerves. He was still raw from that encounter in the corridor. Tori’s brush-off stung worse than he imagined it could; clearly, he wasn’t the only one with trust issues. When he confronted her about their relationship, Tori had shut down so fast that he was surprised she didn’t have whiplash from that sudden reversal. What had happened to the woman who wrapped her arms around him and salved the pain in his heart? It was like she never existed, and that hurt worse than Elena’s betrayal had. He wanted the woman he held and made love to just this morning back. He, at least, was willing to admit that, since that conversation, their relationship had undergone a change, even if he wasn’t sure what it was. She, on the other hand, seemed determined to regulate him to the status of boy toy. Marcos scowled. It’d been decades since he was a boy, and Marcos Devante was nobody’s toy. However, convincing Tori Blair of that might take an act of God. Merril looked up as they entered, and a smile lit her face as her eyes ran over his face, and then jumped to Tori. Marcos blinked. That wasn’t Merril’s usual stern countenance, or even her regular concerned, but businesslike, smile. She looked pleased. He wished he knew what the hell for; he certainly wasn’t pleased with Tori’s seesawing personality. “Everything’s uploaded and waiting for you,” she said, her curious eyes still on Tori.

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“Great. Thanks.” Marcos strode past her desk, toward his office. He hoped Tori would follow his lead, so he didn’t have to introduce her. He didn’t mind using her cover story and fake ID with his security people, or anyone else in this building, but he didn’t lie to Merril. Tori, however, seemed to have no such compunctions. With a peeved glance at Marcos, she stopped before Merril’s desk and extended her hand with an open smile that clenched Marcos’ gut. “Ignore him. He’s been intolerable for days. I’m—” “She’s very glad to meet you, but we’re in a hurry,” Marcos broke in swiftly, placing a warning hand on Tori’s back. “Marcos Devante, you’re being rude!” Tori drew herself to her full height and glared up at him. “She has a point,” Merril pointed out, amusement coloring her voice and dancing in her eyes. Clearly, she was enjoying watching him deal with a woman who didn’t bend. Great. Marcos suppressed a groan of disbelief. The absolute last thing he needed was for these two very different, but equally headstrong, women to decide to join forces against him. Especially not when he trusted the one so implicitly, and the other stirred his blood like nothing ever had. So, instead of answering either one, he simply snaked an arm around Tori’s waist and dragged her along with him as he strode into his office, the door sliding closed behind them. Instantly, Tori yanked away and turned on him, her beautiful obsidian eyes flashing fire, and her body vibrating with rage. “You are an absolute Neanderthal, Marcos Devante! What the hell makes you think you can just manhandle me into doing whatever you want?” He wanted to kiss her, Marcos realized with a jolt. He wanted to drag that amazing body against his and still her tirade with his mouth, until that passion was for him, rather than against him. He buried that desire deep, letting the mask of detachment slide over him as he tightly explained, “That woman has been here since I first created this company, four years ago. She’s amazingly perceptive; she’d know something was going on in a flash.” Tori fell silent, the anger leaving her eyes, her expression inscrutable. Then, meeting his eyes, she smiled, drawing his attention to her lush lips. “You can’t lie to her.” Marcos winced at the direct hit. “No, I can’t.” This information appeared to fascinate her. She continued to watch him, for once silent, as he crossed the office and flipped on his computer, letting the schematics upload. When he glanced up again, she was still standing in the same spot, her dark eyes fixed on him. Marcos clenched his hands into fists, fighting the impulse that begged him to pull her into his arms and just hold her. She looked shellshocked.

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Then, drawing a shaky breath, she let her gaze meet his as, in a voice so faint he barely heard it, she asked, “Can you lie to me?” Marcos closed his eyes, his heart stumbling. He didn’t want to examine the reasoning behind that hesitant query. This was the first time since he laid her in his bed last evening that she showed even a hint of hesitance about their relationship. She was too entrenched in her fight to keep it light and strictly physical and, while he should have been grateful for that, it annoyed Marcos in ways he wasn’t ready to examine. Tori was a fly-by-night thief; there was no permanence in her life. He was a man with roots sunk deep and he craved permanence.

There was no point in wishing for more than a physical

relationship between them. But looking into Tori’s wary eyes, he wished anyway, and knew there was only one answer he could give her. So, seating himself at the desk, his attention on his computer, he frowned and admitted, “No.”

Tori sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes stinging, as that single, reluctant word left Marcos’ lips. God, what the hell was wrong with her? Why did she even care if he lied to her? Tori Blair didn’t do sappy, emotional stuff. Angrily, she shoved aside the twist of heart and womb that had caused that relieved prickle in her eyes, and forced herself to remember that this was business. Sleeping with Marcos had been an aberration. Rounding the desk, she leaned over his shoulder to study the schematics, ignoring the spicy, masculine scent of him, and the tingling heat it created in her body. As her eyes skimmed over the layout, a quiet whistle left her. “Impressed?” She didn’t want to examine the sudden huskiness of his deep voice. Her eyes glued to the screen, she grinned. “Very. I take it all back, Devante. You don’t just have trust issues.” “Oh?” The amused, curious tone of his voice drew her attention briefly to his face and her heart nearly stopped at the faint twist of humor on his lips. Yanking her gaze away before she gave in to the sudden urge to kiss him, Tori smirked. “Double coded pulselocks on inner and outer doors, Spider alarms in a four-point spread across the lab, silent alarms with sensor depressors, and a Batemor storage locker for the prototypes. Hell, Devante, you’re freakin’ paranoid.” She cocked him a curious glance. “Just what is this Screamer, that you went to all this trouble?” He lifted one brow. “What makes you think this isn’t normal security procedure?”

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She grinned wryly. “I’ve cased your research facilities in Paris and Hong Kong. Neither had security near this tight.” She felt him stiffen, and glanced at him, to see anger etched on his scowling face. “You tried to steal from me?” Tori laughed quietly, to cover the cracking sensation in her heart. “Let’s just say, I thought about it.” That brought a spark of interest. “What changed your mind?” “My prospective employers weren’t offering enough incentive to deal with your brand of paranoia.” She flashed him a grin, and then frowned as she continued to study the schematics. “Marcos, this set-up must be costing you a fortune. And it’s got a lot of flaws, to boot. Who designed this system?” “My security technicians,” he supplied, his eyes never leaving her. “Why?” She shook her head, tapping the screen. “Can always tell book-learned security people. Look, here. They overloaded the security circuit for the Spider by plugging it at four-point when six would have been more efficient. I doubt the unit was even operating at sixty percent at the time of the robbery, explaining why your thief was able to avoid the stun web.” She snorted. “I could have designed you a security system ten times more efficient, for less than half the annual maintenance cost.” He was regarding her oddly when she looked at him again. The strange light in his eyes tripped her pulse in a way that frightened her. “What?” His hand covered hers on the screen, bringing it slowly to his lips, to plant a gentle kiss on the sensitive pulse point in her wrist. Tori closed her eyes, fighting the urge to gasp, as the tingle ran up her arm. “Are you trying to tell me something, querida?” She pulled her hand away, frowning, as the sensual jolt disappeared. She didn’t like this new intensity in Marcos; he was already intense enough. And she really didn’t like the flutter that went through her belly every time he used that husky endearment. “Yeah,” she said lightly, extricating her hand from his grasp. “I’m saying you should fire your university-educated security techs and hire some of those thieves you always look down on. We’ve got a better code of honor than you might imagine.” She turned back to the computer screen as she saw annoyance flash in his eyes. “So, what’s this Screamer?” “A weapon,” he said shortly, the words clipped in a way that told her he was beyond annoyed. He was angry.

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She chose to ignore that anger; he’d get over it. She knew he was upset that she was so flippant about answering his question, but his pride would only sting for a little while. However, she had a feeling the damage he could do to her heart would be irreparable. Drawing a breath, she pushed aside the thought, her fingers moving over the keyboard as she typed in a series of codes, bringing up a network site. “‘Medieval Arms and Armor’?” Marcos’ voice snapped with irritation. “A little archaic, don’t you think?” A small grin tugged at her lips. “Arms dealers are a quirky lot. What kind of weapon is this Screamer of yours?” “Sonic.” “Interesting.” Her fingers flew over the keys as she sought to ignore the warmth radiating from Marcos’ body. This was business. She had no right to be thinking about how his skin felt against hers. She was just pulling up the Easter-egged bid board when she suddenly felt a hand slide over her rear. She nearly jumped, heat shimmying through her as she realized it was Marcos. She clamped down on sensation, shooting him a glare. “Quit that.” “Why?” He sounded unfazed by the sharpness of her command, one dark brow lifting over an olive eye, and his hand still on her ass. “We’re trying to find your prototype, remember?” “I’m paying attention,” he assured her gravely. She clenched her jaw against the reactive tremble of her body as his hand skimmed up the inside of her thigh. “Yeah. To my ass.” She shifted away, shooting him another glare, and heard him sigh unrepentantly. “The Screamer is a new, non-lethal sonic weapon, meant to disable nanotechnology. It was in mid-stage testing – meaning it’s successfully disabled greater than eighty percent of nanobots in laboratory testing, but it’s yet to be tested on implanted nanotech – when it was stolen.” Tori nodded her understanding. Everything he said so far meshed with what she knew of his company. “I’ve read up on Minos Enterprises. All non-lethal weapons, intelligence and security systems – including the Spider, which I personally think is a masterstroke – and advanced educational and medical technology. I’m impressed, Marcos.” “I don’t do it to impress anyone,” he said tightly, and she was left to wonder about the sudden darkening of his eyes. She was about to ask him what had happened to make him so determined to stay

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non-lethal when there was a high market for lethal weapons, when the bid board beeped, offering up a list of weapons deals. “We’re in.” He leaned forward, his expression curious. “What are we looking for?” “When did your prototype go missing?” “Three days ago.” That was a surprise. “You’ve sat on this investigation this long?” One side of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “You haven’t been easy to persuade.” Tori laughed, even as her heart stumbled a little. He was telling her he couldn’t do this without her. Where else was she indispensable to him? Don’t go there, Blair. “All right. So, we’re looking for anything newly posted as a job or a sale beginning April sixth.” “Today’s the twelfth, Tori.” She nodded. “Jobs take time to carry out.” Silence fell as Tori scanned through the open boards, but at least it was a comfortable silence, allowing her to work undistracted. She could access the current boards, and the public archives easily. Trying to access the so-called “deleted” archives, however, proved a lost cause. She hacked systems before, but this kind of network hacking required an elite. Damn, she could use Jake’s help… Pain stabbed through her, freezing her as her hands trembled and her breath stalled. Jake. Her lips quivered, and she felt as if she was crumbling, inside. Oh, God. “Tori?” Suddenly, she was cradled against Marcos’ firm chest, his hands moving soothingly over her hair and back and his lips pressing soft kisses to her face. “Querida, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, sucking in deep breaths to stave off tears. “I… I was just thinking about JJake…” She heard a quiet oath slip from Marcos’ lips as he reached to flip off the computer terminal. Before she could ask what he was doing, he’d scooped her into his arms and crossed to the long sofa that sat against the opposite wall. He didn’t release her as he settled into the leather, cradling her in his lap. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her ear, his hands still stroking lightly over her back and arms, his motions soothing. “I should have realized that would remind you of him.” She drew a breath, burrowing against Marcos’ shoulder as her arms slid around him. She didn’t care how weak she must look; right now she needed an anchor, and Marcos was the only solid thing left in her world. He remained quiet, as if he sensed her need for silent support, slowly stroking her back. Tori sighed, burrowing against his neck, drinking in the spicy, masculine scent of him. This was Marcos; her

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white knight, and her dark lover. It was hard to believe the two personalities existed so easily inside one man, but she’d seen proof of both, and that knowledge calmed her even while her heart ached for her friend. She knew Jake would be happy for her; she swore she could hear him laughing. That sense gave her peace like nothing else did. After a while, when she felt calmer, Tori raised her head to offer Marcos a grateful smile, and nearly gasped at the dark flame in his eyes. He looked fierce, and the scorching desire in his gaze was nearly overpowering. “You loved him, didn’t you?” His voice was a harsh growl, but she knew, somehow, that he wasn’t angry. “He was my friend.” “And your lover.” Her brow furrowed. They’d been over this before; what was Marcos getting at? “Yes. I told you—” “You loved him.” That didn’t sound like a question. Not in that bleak tone, with that resigned expression in his eyes. Tori shook her head in exasperation. “Only as a friend.” His eyes flashed with lightning. Okay, now he was angry. “Why won’t you ever admit to love?” Ah. She was getting this conversation, now. This was one of those discussions about intentions that normally sent her running, the question left unanswered. Can you lie to me? No. Their conversation jolted through her memory, freezing her in place. Why had she asked him that? She’d never cared if any of her sex partners lied to her, before. Yet, for a reason she was afraid to examine, Marcos’ answer had been important to her. And she could see the same question gleaming in his eyes, now. “I don’t believe in love,” she finally admitted stiffly, her voice little more than a rasp. God, she hated this. She felt him stiffen, and saw the shock that flew through his eyes. “Dios! You can’t be serious!” “I am. Very.” “Why?” She knew what he was asking. She shrugged awkwardly, averting her gaze from his. How was she supposed to explain what it did to a five-year-old child to be dumped at the door of a strange place by the two people who should have loved her unconditionally, but had been more desperate to get rid of her

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than love her? The truth was she couldn’t; not without letting Marcos into a place not even Jake or Electra had ever seen. A place where she struggled with the fear that she’d never really belong – not anywhere, or with anyone. And she didn’t trust Marcos to not eventually use that fear against her. “I just never have.” She pushed free of his shock-slackened embrace, fleeing the touch that was unraveling her, and the pity-filled eyes that watched her retreat. Flying out the door, past a surprised Merril, Tori raced through the maze that was Minos Enterprises until she finally broke free, bolting into the bright afternoon sunshine. And, just as she skidded to a stop, panting for breath, she heard a shout, and whirled just in time to see a silver landtrans with tinted windows hurtling toward her with a speed that, in her shock, she hadn’t a prayer of dodging.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Frozen in terror, Tori couldn’t move. From the corner of her eye, she registered a flash of dark movement, like a shadow, before something impacted her hard, sending her crashing to the pavement as a wave of superheated air passed above her. Tori groaned at the crushing weight against her back as reality descended sharply. She felt the weight heaving against her battered body, and hot breath huffed near her ear and cheek. She groaned again, as pain lanced through her. God, she was going to have some nasty bruises; but at least she was alive. The pressure of the body holding her pinned against the asphalt shifted, and then eased, and cool air poured over her. A warm, familiar touch assaulted her body, running over every inch in movements that were both impersonal and possessive, before Marcos’ voice spoke against her ear, sounding hoarse and shaky. “Don’t move, querida.” Then, speaking to someone she couldn’t see, “Get an ambulance.” “Yes, sir.” “Whoa. Hey!” The words croaked out – no surprise, with as violently as she’d hit the pavement – as Tori tried to turn over. She felt Marcos’ hands easing her over as she winced, dragging in a sharp breath against the agony radiating through her shoulders. She shoved away his touch, sitting up. “No hospital. No doctors. And no cops.” “Tori—” She cut off his impatient warning with a glare. He wasn’t going to railroad or manipulate her into this. Tori’d seen more than enough hospitals and doctors to last her a lifetime. And cops meant questions she couldn’t answer; questions that would land her in jail faster than her assailant. She wasn’t going to back down on this, so he might as well get used to playing ball her way. “I’m fine, okay? A little sore, but nothing worth reporting.”

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She saw annoyance flash in his eyes and turned her eyes away. She wasn’t going to let his anger sway her. To prove her point, she rose gingerly to her feet, ignoring the gathering crowd of onlookers. She wasn’t interested in being the center of attention. She was interested in getting the hell off the street before someone else decided to run her down, too. She heard Marcos swear beneath his breath, and, before she realized what he was up to, he scooped her into his arms and was striding back toward the building, his expression grim. “Put me down!” She demanded, shoving at his chest. She had quite enough of this macho crap. No one hauled her around like this and got away with it. She struck out with her heel, trying to catch the joint of his hip with her booted foot. He deftly avoided the blow, and she saw dark humor flash in his eyes. “Not going to happen,” he replied wryly, his grasp on her tightening, and Tori couldn’t be sure if he was answering her demand, or warning her that her attack wasn’t going to work. His hand on her thigh shifted slightly, and Tori fought the tingling sensation that movement stirred within her. She’d be damned if she was going to respond to being manhandled like this; even if the man handling her could reduce her to a quivering mass of nerve endings with just one heated glance of those gorgeous eyes. Tori licked her lips nervously as equal measures of excitement and uncertainty wound through her. “Marcos.” He met her gaze, and she saw fear lingering in those olive depths. Her breath rushed out in a gasp as her eyes widened. Had he actually been afraid? For her? That thought sent a wave of heat through her that made being in his arms sweet torture. “Please put me down. I can walk,” she assured him softly, touching her fingers to his cheek. “I know.” His voice held a raspy quality she couldn’t place, and his eyes flared. “But I can’t let you go.” Surprise shot through her, and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as they entered his office. She was vaguely aware of Merril’s shocked exclamation, and the secretary’s sudden rise. From a distance, she registered Marcos’ swift headshake and clipped words as he strode past his secretary’s desk. But, mostly, she was just numb with shock. Marcos had said…had… Reality snapped through her shock as leather brushed her skin, and she realized Marcos had set her on the sofa. His warmth no longer surrounded her, sending a shaft of disappointment through her, though his large hand engulfed hers lightly, raising it to his lips. “What does that mean?” She demanded tersely, fighting the impulse to give in, with him hovering over her so protectively. Only Tori had learned a long time ago to rely on no one but herself for protection.

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He raised a questioning brow at her, but remained silent. She sighed in exasperation. “That stuff about not letting me go. What does that mean?” A shadow passed over his face, and he released her hand as he rose to his feet, looking down at her. “It means you scared the hell out of me, back there, querida,” he said grimly as he walked to his desk and pressed a button. “This is Devante. Did you find it?” “Yes, sir,” the swift reply filled the room.

“It was parked just around the corner, in an

underground garage.” “And? Any sign of the driver?” “Uh… No, sir. The vehicle was empty. It was set on a timed autopilot.” Tori was on her feet in a flash at those words, bringing a stern look from Marcos that she ignored as she moved to the desk and asked, “Did you run the plates?” There was silence, before Marcos instructed, “You can answer any of her questions.” A throat cleared nervously. “We’re running them now, ma’am, but I’m thinking we’re going to find it’s stolen.” Marcos’ brow furrowed. “Why?” “Sir, there’s a Liberty High School gym bag in the back seat. I think someone jumped it from the parking lot.” Tori’s pulse sped up as adrenaline kicked in. This sounded familiar.

An unaccounted-for,

unexpected crime. Just like Protoware. “Was there anything else in the landtrans? It would be small, and octagonal, with—” “A cluster of seven stars stenciled on it? Nothing in the vehicle, ma’am, but there was a metal disc like that riveted onto the rear plate.” Tori sucked in a breath as a mixture of excitement and trepidation shot through her. She was right! Protoware had been no territorial squabble. This was almost exactly the same set-up. Her eyes lifted then, and she came face-to-face with Marcos’ worried frown. “That’ll be all, for now. Let me know as soon as you have confirmation on the plates,” he told the man on the other end of the line, and then hit the cut-off button, his gaze never leaving Tori. Straightening, he crossed his arms over his chest and demanded, “How did you know they’d find something like that?” The tone of his voice caused a flare of anger to ignite in Tori. What was it about this man, that he seemed to think she was a puppet at his command? Just because she had sex with him didn’t mean he

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could boss her around. Okay, so it’d been really mind-blowing sex; that still didn’t mean he could demand anything of her that he wouldn’t offer up himself. She wasn’t about to reveal all her secrets. “I have my sources,” she returned his words to him, holding her anger under tight control. His scowl deepened. “Damn it, Tori; this isn’t a game!” He strode around the desk, his eyes dark with emotions Tori couldn’t begin to decipher, and his hands grasped her shoulders firmly. “Someone’s trying to kill you.” “You think I don’t know that?” She yanked away from his grasp. “What do you want from me? I can’t run and hide; not ever.” “Trust me,” he murmured, his fingers skimming over her cheek as the veil of irritation dropped from his eyes, softening his features. “Tell me what you know. Let me help you.” The ache of those requests stabbed Tori like a knife in the chest. Didn’t he see how much she wanted to trust him? But, without an equal return, she wasn’t about to lay herself bare to anyone. Lifting sad eyes to Marcos’ face, she whispered, “Trust is a two-way street, Marcos.” His eyes closed, and she watched his jaw jump with the tension that radiated around him. Silence stretched, long and tense, between them. Then, with a shake of his head, he managed, “I can’t. Not yet.” The knife of pain twisted deeper into Tori, until she had to remind herself that their relationship wasn’t about trust. She could feel lust, and camaraderie; she’d even allow a little pity or sympathy. But Tori Blair didn’t do deep relationships. And she definitely didn’t empathize, or feel this kind of tender compassion. She sighed heavily. “You want to help me? Fine. Help me find Electra. You want me to trust you? Then you’ll have to prove to me that you don’t work for ORION.” His eyes flew open, shocked. “I don’t!” “Prove it,” she demanded defiantly. “Tell me how you found me, at Pearl’s, and how you knew ORION was coming there. Tell me why you’ve been following me since Paris.” That familiar wall snapped closed across his eyes, veiling his thoughts from her as he turned away, striding to the window. His back was to her, but his suddenly torn expression was clearly visible in the glass. She doubted he realized it. “I can’t.” “Because you don’t trust me.” “Because I swore an oath of secrecy,” he returned honestly, his expression bleak. “I can’t divulge my source of information, or my mission, to anyone. Not even you.” Tightness squeezed Tori’s chest. Secrecy? Mission? Holy freaking cow! It was like 007, or something. Images of an empty warehouse flew through her mind, overlaid by the phantom rush of hot

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air. Marcos was right. If she didn’t tell someone soon, everything she knew was liable to die with her. She couldn’t let that happen. “Four months ago, someone tried to kill me. On a job in London.”

Marcos spun around, shock snapping through him, at her confession. Someone had tried to kill her before the orb? “Who?” He demanded tightly, his fists clenching as he fought the sweep of protectiveness that urged him to draw her into his arms and shield her. Tori, he already knew, would never accept that shelter. She offered him a half-shrug, her expression blank of emotion. “I have no idea. The job was supposed to be a simple one. Heist a computer chip from the production office vault in the Protoware warehouse.” “I take it something went wrong.” She snorted a laugh. “Not at first. It was a cakewalk. I cased the building for two weeks. It was full of stuff all the time, and busy. I monitored the comings and goings of everything and everyone, from the transports to the guards. I had the timing down perfect, to be in and out before the guards noticed I was ever there. I practiced getting around the security measures in my workshop, using exact replicas.” He studied her frown silently as he wrestled with his basic instinct, which told him this was a criminal confession, and that he should report her. But he knew that the only reason she was telling him at all was because she trusted him to keep her secrets. Marcos’ pulse skipped a beat. She trusted him; whether she was aware of it or not. Knowing that resolved the conflict for him. If Tori trusted him, that trust was as sacred as a confessional. “So what happened?” She shrugged awkwardly. “I’m not sure. All I know is, when I got to the warehouse the night of the heist, I had this funny feeling something was wrong.” Her eyes closed, and he knew she was reliving the job. “The door locks had alarms on them, but any kid with a jimmy could have gotten around those alarms. I was being paid professional rates for a job any street punk would, and could, have done for a tenth of the price.” Tension prickled along Marcos’ scalp, a sure sign of a premonition coming on. “The place was booby-trapped.” Her eyes snapped open, and he read wary surprise there, though she nodded. “The warehouse looked as if it’d never been used, which was impossible. I’d seen it in operation with my own eyes. I went in, anyway, which was probably – hell, it was – stupid. Everything in me told me not to go in.”

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Marcos fought back a wry laugh. Even he knew that when the danger was greatest, Tori was most likely to act. She drew a deep breath, and sighed heavily. “I opened the vault, and found a disc marked with the same symbol as the landtrans plate on the floor. That’s when I knew something was really wrong. But, before I could get out of there, the door closed and locked, and this strange gas was jetting out from the walls.” Marcos snapped upright, sucking in a sharp breath. It couldn’t have been a nerve toxin, or she’d have died. “What was it?” “I’m not sure. Jake…” She stopped, her eyes averted, for a long moment, and Marcos felt his heart clench, knowing she was fighting tears, even if he couldn’t see them. “Jake thought they were trying to kidnap me; that CEM had finally tracked me down. But we could never prove anything. Personally, I think they intended to immobilize me to make me easier to kill.” Marcos frowned. It was possible someone had wanted to kidnap her, if she was right about Electra Monroe’s disappearance. But, after the incident a little while ago, he was inclined to agree with Tori. Someone other than Mythos wanted her dead. Grimly, he punched the intercom button that connected to Merril’s office. “Get someone to set up the conferencing circuits. I’m leaving for Vermont.” “Consider it done.” He glanced up to find Tori watching him warily. “Why are you going to Vermont?” “We are.” “Like hell.” She surged up from the sofa, the rage on her face so magnificent it took his breath away. “I’m not going into hiding. Electra needs me—” “And you’ll be no help to her if you’re dead, Tori,” he reminded her quietly, feeling anger prick him. Why was she always so stubborn? “I want you safe from ORION, and this madman who’s trying to kill you,” and yourself, “and I’ll do whatever it takes.” Her chin lifted in challenge. “You and what army?” The childish taunt nearly brought a grim smile to his face. Tori was no child, and the burning desire to protect her from dangers she didn’t see or understand was driving him mad. So, instead of answering her, he let his actions speak for him, striding across the room to scoop her smaller, much lighter form from her feet and sling her over his shoulder. As he started toward the door, he suddenly felt Tori’s foot connect sharply with his gut, and grunted. “Put me down,” she seethed, pounding on his back.

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“Promise to behave yourself, first.” He shifted her squirming weight slightly, letting his hand slide up her thigh, toward her rear. “Marcos…” The sudden breathlessness quality of her voice sent his temperature skyrocketing. He slid his hand to the inside of her thigh, and felt her body tense, even as her hands grasped the back of his suit jacket, and a small gasp tore from her. He drew a breath, fighting the arousal building swiftly in his groin. “Hmm?” “Put me down. Please,” she whispered, and the choked, almost desperate quality of her voice wrenched in his gut. Lightly, he set her back on her feet. Worry slashed through him as she moved several quick steps away, her eyes averted. “Tori?” “Sex is sex, Marcos. This part isn’t supposed to be about sex, remember? This is business.” He stopped cold as her words slapped him. “It is my business to keep you safe, querida.” “Stop calling me that!” She lashed out, her eyes flashing with what he swore was fear. Fear? From anything-for-a-lark, adrenaline junkie Tori Blair? He had to be mistaken. She drew deep breaths as she prowled restlessly around his office, before turning abruptly toward him. “Look, Devante. Someone wants me dead; they’ll clearly stop at nothing to make sure it happens. I get that, so you don’t need to obsess about it. I don’t know about you, but I’m used to having enemies; I can take care of myself. I need to find Electra; she needs my help.” “And who helps you?” He rasped, feeling a rawness he didn’t like in his chest. She was telling him to step back and not care if someone wiped her beauty and spirit from the world. With any other woman, he would have been relieved to be given that out. But, for a reason he didn’t quite understand, the idea of never seeing Tori again bothered him. And the idea that she saw things between them in terms of sex and business more than bothered him. “I don’t need anyone,” she said staunchly, squaring her shoulders, though he caught a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes that nearly brought him to his knees. She was all bravado. “Tough little Tori,” he murmured, crossing the space between them to brush his hand against the softness of her cheek. “And you accused me of being cold. Whether you need me or not, querida, you’ve got me.” With that, he slid his hand to cup her neck and drew her against him as he claimed her sweet lips, sealing his promise with a gentle kiss.

Tori’s heart contracted and her eyes stung at the quiet promise in Marcos’ voice, and the tenderness of his kiss. She’d been trying so hard to keep things between them light. Playing with Marcos

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was one thing; that she could handle. She knew the rules of the game, and she was comfortable with it. But falling for Marcos Devante would be a mistake. A bird may love a fish… Only, Tori Blair didn’t even know what love was. She didn’t believe it existed. All she knew for sure was that Marcos could reduce her to a quivering mass of nerve endings with a single touch. Like now. Tori moaned, her mind going blank as Marcos’ fingertips skimmed over her breast, bringing the tip to a tingling peak. She wanted him; wanted to feel him inside her. She ached for his touch against her bare flesh. “Marcos,” she whispered, diving her fingers into his short but tantalizingly soft hair as his mouth latched onto her neck, his teeth and tongue torturing her throbbing pulse. She pressed her hips flush against him, rubbing as she felt the swell of his erection against her. “Now.” He drew back, breathing raggedly. His eyes were hot and dark, and the intense expression on his face tripped her pulse and set it skittering over the edge. Sensual eyes fixed on her neck, and his thumb brushed lightly over the spot where his mouth had been, and she knew. He’d marked her. A sultry smile curved on her lips. For the first time in her life, Tori was sporting what was probably, knowing Marcos, one hell of a hickey. “Come with me to Vermont, querida,” he murmured in a husky plea that shot through her. She shook her head, regret plunging through her. “I can’t. I have to find Electra, and your prototype.” His eyes narrowed, stormy, before he nodded grimly. “All right. You want to keep business to business. I have a deal for you.” She cocked him a curious look, trying to ignore the rapid fluttering of her pulse as his thumb made gentle circles against her neck. “Oh?” “We already have a deal, actually. I just want to amend it.” Wariness shot through her. “How?” “The deal was, you help me figure out where my Screamer is, and get it back, and I’d help you find Electra.” She nodded. “Go on.” “I want that disc you copied in Paris.” Tori jerked away as shock flashed through her. “Why?” He frowned. “Whatever’s on it is the reason you’ve become a walking target. You want a scientist to look at it; so do I, now. My top researchers will break down the data on that disc, and find out why it’s so important.”

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“No offense, Devante, but I’ve seen the schematics for your ‘high’ security facility in Staten Island. I’m not impressed.” “You tell my technicians what to do to make the security impenetrable, and they’ll do it. The disc will be safe, we’ll be able to figure out what’s on it, and you won’t have to worry about getting run down, again.” “Sounds good. Too good. What’s in it for you?” And then, there it was. Soft and sinful, and enough to tempt even an angel. Marcos was smiling. Tori couldn’t breathe, her chest constricted in wonder and her heart fluttered so rapidly she was sure it would fly away. “You agree to come with me to Vermont. I have a system there, linked directly into this one, so you’ll have access to everything you need to find the Screamer.” She blinked, and managed to find her voice enough to whisper. “That’s it? Just to go to Vermont?” “Tori.” His fingers skimmed around her neck, and dipped inside the low neckline of her shirt. “I want to make love—” “Have sex,” she corrected, mustering her control. If he called it making love in that tone of voice, with that smile on his lips, she’d never last. His smile collapsed. “I want to make love to you again.” She forced a smile to her lips, even as she let her fingers slip down his tie. “Right now?” “No.” The word growled out of him. “Tonight. In my home.” Tori froze. He wasn’t talking about sport fucking, anymore. He wasn’t talking about quick, hot sex, meant to expunge tension. When a man as intensely loyal to his ideals as Marcos Devante used the words “making love” and “home” in the space of a minute, he was talking about something a lot more binding than sex. “Marcos…” “That’s the deal, Tori,” he said grimly, backing away from her touch and returning behind the safety of his desk. “My help for yours; your safety for your cooperation.” She flinched, as much from his choice of words as his cool, hard tone. Marcos wasn’t about to put anything on the line if she didn’t agree. Anger slid through her. If he thought she was standing still for this, he should think again. The best had tried, and failed, to con her, in the past. Slick businessmen who thought they could sweet talk her into taking less money because she was a woman and smooth operators who believed that, because she was beautiful, she was also dumb and an easy lay. Compared to all of

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them, Marcos’ blackmail was blatant. Tori never made a deal under duress; and she certainly never agreed to sex in exchange for her safety! She opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could stick his deal, but stopped, snapping her jaws shut with an audible click. Electra was depending on her. Tori already knew she couldn’t find her friend on her own; not if she had to watch her own back at the same time. And she had no idea how to decipher that disc, either. Marcos was offering his help, and the awesome resources of Minos Enterprises, to find Electra and keep both Tori and the disc safe. And all he asked in return was that she retrieve his Screamer and have sex with him. Tori drew a breath; it was a hell of a deal. As long as she could keep it in her mind that this was just sex, it wasn’t really any different than what she’d already done. It was a business arrangement, and nothing more. Marcos would keep his end of the bargain; she didn’t even question that. “Fine,” she said shortly, nodding grimly. “You help me find Electra and figure out what’s on that disc, and I’ll go to Vermont and find your Screamer.” Deals with the devil… But this devil, she knew. Or hoped like hell she did, anyway.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

She was silent the entire trip. In fact, once the layout for the new security on the lab where the disc would be stored was complete, Tori became quiet and remote. At the penthouse, she packed her clothes and gear mechanically, her expression set in blank grimness. Even the memory made Marcos’ chest tight, and he wondered what was wrong. Every time he tried to touch her, she shied away, and the stoic hardness of her eyes tore at him. As they walked toward the spacious ranch house he’d built here in the Green Mountains for the solitude and peace, Marcos slipped an arm around Tori, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. Instantly, she stiffened and started to pull away. Marcos moved his hand to her hip, clamping down firmly and frowning as he warned, “Don’t.” Her furious glare cut right through him. “Damn it, Devante! Our deal is sex, inside this building. That doesn’t include pawing me out here!” He stopped dead, shock streaking through him as her words hit him. Grasping her arms, he pulled her around as a pain he didn’t want to feel settled in his chest. “When did our deal ever have anything to do with us—?” “Having sex?” She cut him off before he could finish, and Marcos scowled. Why was she so damned afraid to call it anything but sex? “Sí,” he rasped tightly, barely holding onto his temper. “You said you’d keep me safe, in exchange for my ‘cooperation’.” Her expression remained stiff and mechanical, but her eyes were alive with accusation. “Dios.”

The oath slipped out as stunned horror crashed over him.

She thought he was

blackmailing her into his bed! “Querida—” “You can drop the endearments, now, Devante. You’ve got yourself a good little whore; all for my safety.”

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“Damn it, Tori!” He roared, grasping her shoulders tightly. “Our deal had nothing to do with sex!” Fear flashed in her eyes, followed swiftly by the dangerous kindle of rage as she attempted to shake off his hold. “Don’t play me for dumb. You told me you wanted to have sex again.” Marcos ground his teeth together in frustration. Maldito sea! How could a woman as intelligent as Tori constantly misunderstand him? “That was a request, not a condition of our deal!” “Sounded like a condition.” Her narrowed eyes studied him warily, as if trying to decide whether or not he was telling her the truth. “It wasn’t,” he murmured, his anger draining away as he realized this was one hell of a misunderstanding. “I would never demand sex of any woman. And I certainly would never demand to make love to you, querida.” He dipped his head to skim his lips over hers, and nearly groaned with the sweet need that plunged through him at her taste. He wanted her, needed her, so badly. But he was so close to making his fantasies into reality, and he had no intention of ruining that with a lack of patience. Pulling back, he offered her a gentle smile, and heard her breath hitch. His smile widened, and he stepped away, raising her hand and pressing his lips to the pulse-point in her wrist. “Come, querida. I want you to see my home.” He drew her gently along the brick path he laid with his own hands, feeling the rightness of Tori’s presence here sink through him. Yet, he could sense her hesitance and wondered what she could possibly be afraid of. He sucked in a breath and bit back the query that danced on his tongue. This new peace between them was still fragile, and he wouldn’t do anything to damage it. He needed to hold her too badly to risk pushing her away. As he opened the door and stepped inside, Tori’s hand slipped loose from his and Marcos heard the tiny sound of her indrawn breath. Turning curiously, he froze, his heart crumbling around his feet. Tori stood stiffly on the other side of the threshold, her face pale and her black eyes huge and sheened with tears he hadn’t seen since she broke down in his office. She looked as if someone had murdered her best friend. Marcos winced as he realized what a poor choice of words that was. Gracias a Dios, he hadn’t been stupid enough to say it. He wondered if those memories had anything to do with her current panicked expression. He doubted it. “Tori?” He took a quick step toward her and frowned as she backed away swiftly, her lips trembling. “I…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed visibly. “I’m sorry. I don’t belong here.” With that, she turned on her heel and fled.

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“Tori!” She heard Marcos behind her as she tore through the trees, trying to get away. Her heart hammered and her lungs screamed in the cool mountain air. But neither sensation stabbed her as badly as the thought of going back and facing that open door did. She was fine, up until Marcos has stepped inside the immaculately kept ranch house. Then, the fear hit her. Without the shield of their deal in place, the feeling that crossing that threshold meant entering Marcos’ life was so real it shattered her. She didn’t know what she wanted, but she knew what she didn’t want. She didn’t want to ever harm Marcos, and her being in his life would invariably do just that. Her booted foot connected with an unburied root and Tori stumbled. Before she could right herself, strong arms closed around her, scooping her up against a tree. Marcos’ lips covered hers and his heaving body pinned her against the rough bark as he plundered her mouth, diving in again and again to taste and torment. His warm and spicy scent, woven with earth and sweat, tortured her with hunger for more than the fusion of mouths. His hard hands at her hips crushed her against the heat of his arousal, and she groaned. This was what she wanted. Finally, when Tori was dizzy and aching with desire, he tore his mouth from hers and demanded, “Don’t ever do that again.” She shifted against him, and watched his jaw clench as lust deepened his eyes to nearly pitch. “Do what?” He scowled down at her, though his eyes were hot and dark. “I want you here. You belong here because I say you do.” Her arousal dissipated on the spot. She couldn’t tell him about her fear. She couldn’t tell him about the frantic little girl who’d begged to go home, only to realize she had no home to go back to. She couldn’t admit that he was beginning to feel like home to her. He could use that; he could destroy her with that. Instead, she wriggled in an effort to get away. “It’s not that simple.” “Why not?” He demanded, clamping her more firmly against his body, his hands sliding along her thighs. “Because.” She pushed against his chest with her hands, even as her treacherous body sought his touch and her nipples drew tight in need. “That’s very enlightening, querida,” he murmured wryly, his voice husky and his eyes heavylidded with desire. “Oh, go to hell, Devante,” she muttered, lacing her hands behind his head and pulling him down to fuse their mouths. So, she was weak; she craved him too much to push him away.

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Tori drank in Marcos’ throaty chuckle, before he suddenly lifted her completely from her feet and started back toward the house with her in his arms. As they stepped into the building, Tori focused on what they were about to do and ignored the little thrill in her that said she’d finally come home.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tori loosed a small scream of frustration, heaving the epad in her hands across Marcos’ workshop and listening with satisfaction to the crash of splintering plastic and glass. “Hope that felt good,” Marcos commented blandly, not looking up from where he was bent over a piece of wood, working with a laser etcher. “Immensely,” she replied with a content grin. “Good. Now, maybe you can stop destroying things and tell me what’s wrong.” Sitting on a counter along the wall, she rested her back against the sturdy wood and studied Marcos, a shiver of heat coursing through her veins. She was right about the jeans and t-shirt. The day they arrived, he exchanged his suits for well-worn denim and cotton; and he looked even better in them than she imagined. Her pulse skipped a beat and Tori squeezed her thighs together against the tingle of excitement, crossing her arms over her chest to hide her aroused nipples as she casually enquired, “What makes you think anything’s wrong?” He shut off the etcher, turning to face her. Dark humor flashed in his eyes and a wry smile twitched at his lips, making Tori’s pulse stutter again. “Let’s see. We’ve been here a week and, so far, you’ve destroyed three epads, broken a window, and you’ve been insatiable. Are you saying this is normal, querida?” She lifted a brow and a smirk slid over her lips. First guy who ever made her hot 24/7, and he thought her desire was abnormal. “Are you complaining about my sexual appetites, Devante?” “Infierno!” He swore, rolling his eyes as he propped his feet on the rungs of the stool, resting his elbows across his knees. “No, querida, I’m not complaining. But Merril might start complaining about your destructive habits if you go through any more epads.”

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Tori’s eyes went to the shattered remnants of the epad and she sighed glumly. He was right, of course. There was something eating at her. She just didn’t want to admit how much it bothered her; she didn’t want to admit she couldn’t supply an answer. She looked up, saw the steady patience in Marcos’ eyes, and her hesitance vanished. “I can’t figure it out.” He cocked one dark eyebrow, still studying her intently, but silently. “The egress,” she explained, scrubbing her hand over her face in frustration. “I think I know how your thief got in, but there’s no way he got back out the same way. Not unless he could fly.” His brow furrowed. “Why does it matter how he got in? Shouldn’t you be concentrating on figuring out who did it?” She cast him a wry grin. Once again, he proved how far separated their worlds really were. Her grin faltered and collapsed at the thought. “I can tell you’re a man who’s never studied thieves, Devante. The how will tell us who did it.” “How’s that?” He asked curiously, turning back to his work. “Every thief has his or her own special skills and abilities,” she said as she stretched out flat on the countertop, spinning her body to walk her feet up the wall as her hands grasped the counter edge. “No two are identical; like a fingerprint.” “If that’s the case, then why don’t more of you get caught? Wouldn’t an investigator know?” She grinned. “That’s the beauty of it. To get caught, they have to catch you in the act, or be able to track you. A good thief is prepared. And part of the thrill is in knowing that someone will know you’ve been there.” She caught the flicker of his gaze, the twist of his lips, and her heart stopped, even as he teased, “Pride among thieves?” She winked, regarding him upside-down from where she lay. “Yep. Besides, there aren’t many investigators out there who know what they’re doing. To recognize a thief’s signature moves, you have to know their skills, talents, and habits inside-out.” Her hips lifted and her back slowly arched as her feet walked higher along the wall, her weight shifting into her shoulders and arms. She felt the muscles flex and stretch in her chest, and drew in a deep, savoring breath. There was something almost erotic about the awareness of her own smooth, muscular body flowing through the motions of her routine. That was why she loved her work; the sensual feeling. Her nipples tightened slightly as her feet left the wall, her shoulders and arms taking her weight until she was stretched out in a handstand against the edge of the counter, her feet hooking on one of the beams that crisscrossed the open ceiling. “And what does our thief’s entry point tell you?”

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“By itself? The thief was a strong man, and tall. He lowered himself into the center of the room via a circulation duct.” “How? Those ducts are twelve feet off the ground and…” He turned as he spoke, and blinked in concern. “Tori?” “Up here.” She grinned as she watched his head lift and his brown eyes widen in surprise. Swinging one leg over the beam beneath her body, she stretched out flat on her stomach, her legs dangling, and propped her crossed wrists beneath her chin. “That twelve-foot drop is why I said it was a man, and a tall one. Women don’t drop those distances, because we tend to use our entry as our egress, as well, and that’s a long climb to get caught in the middle of, if something goes wrong. Men usually plan different entry and exit routes.” Her grin widened mischievously. “That’s why more men get caught than women. Too much space for error.” “I see.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “How did you get up there?” She tossed him a wink. “Trade secret.” He cocked her a disbelieving look. “You lead a very dangerous life. Ever been caught?” “Only once.” She stretched against the beam and watched his eyes flare with lust. Oh, yeah. She had his complete attention. “I was fifteen and too new at the game to be picking a secure lock. Spent six months behind bars for unlawful entry and promised myself I’d never get caught again.” He quirked a brow. “That’s all it took, huh?” She met his eyes, letting him read the heat, and the conviction, in hers. “I always keep my promises.” Marcos rose slowly from his seat and walked over, until he stood directly beneath where Tori lay, looking up at her. “Always?” She saw a strange light in his eyes, and her brow furrowed. Marcos actually looked vulnerable with that look in his eyes. Slipping her leg over the beam, she dropped down, sliding easily along his body until her legs anchored around his waist and her arms dropped around his neck. “Always,” she whispered, making the word a promise of its own, as she pressed against his body and fused her mouth over his in a soft, hot kiss.

***

Marcos lay watching the woman in his arms sleep, his chest tight with emotions he was afraid to face, let alone attempt to name. He stroked his hand softly along the length of her bare back and felt her shift closer as a sleepy purr left her. A smile tugged at his lips at that sound. Tori was so very much like

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the tiger carved into the jade around her neck. So brave, and so vicious when attacked. She never backed down; a trait he was afraid might one day get her killed. Studying her sleeping face, he felt protective heat curl inside of his chest. She was so beautiful, but the slight smudges beneath her eyes lent her a fragility she refused to show when awake. He wasn’t surprised she fell asleep right after they made love, either. She had to be exhausted. He was pretty ragged, himself. They’d been here a week and he could count on one hand the hours of sleep he’d managed. Tori hadn’t got much more, either. Marcos sighed. He was trying to stay on top of his company affairs, considering the recent breach at the Staten Island facility, and the power grid problems in San Diego last December. Gracias a Dios for Merril, or he’d never be able to keep track of both his company and Tori. Then there was his family. While he tried to maintain regular contact with them, his mother’s belief that he could solve any family crisis was beginning to wear at him. He spoke with her three times this past week, since she called Merril in a panic on Tuesday, looking for him. His youngest sister, Pilar, was pregnant, his mother informed him in a scandalized tone that told him he was about to take on yet another headstrong wild-child. Pilar had always been on the wild side and while the news of her pregnancy didn’t sit well with Marcos, it wasn’t exactly a surprise, either. But, to their mother, it was a crisis of biblical proportions, since Pilar was just eighteen and unmarried. In their close-knit, highly Catholic family, this scandal wasn’t about to blow over anytime soon. Rosalina Devante informed Marcos that she was sending Pilar to stay with him in Vermont, before anyone else in the family learned of her “condition.” Marcos talked her into sending Pilar to the penthouse instead, promising to find her a chaperone. He didn’t want Pilar in Vermont. Not only would that mean putting his baby sister in danger, but, if Pilar showed up at the house, Tori would withdraw completely, and he would have to let her go. He wouldn’t share his bed with a woman who wasn’t at least his intended, with his impressionable sister in the house. Marcos’ grasp tightened around Tori. Everything would be so much easier if he could just trust her. But Tori didn’t seem to want his trust, no matter what she claimed. She continually went out of her way to remind him that she was a thief and not in the least repentant. Like that stunt in his workshop; he was sure that had been calculated to remind him what she did for a living. He frowned as another memory slipped into his mind, clenching his gut. She ran from him that first day they arrived; ran as if her life depended on it. That bothered him more than he cared to admit. Tori stirred against him and he felt her fingers skim up his chest and over his jaw. “Marcos? What’s wrong?”

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He shook his head mutely. He wasn’t about to admit to this woman that he was wondering how he’d faced life without her for so long. She propped herself up on one hand, oblivious to her nudity, even in the sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows. “Don’t give me that strong, silent routine, Marcos Devante. You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve hardly slept since we got here?” “You haven’t slept much more,” he shot back defensively. He didn’t want to discuss what was eating at him. He didn’t want that wall between them. She sighed. “You’re right; I haven’t. I’m too worried about Electra. Everything we’ve found so far…” He studied her averted eyes and tense shoulders as her voice trailed off. Tori hated being scared, and he understood her fear and her anguish. She lost too many friends, already. Reaching out, he covered her hand against the bed.

“I’m sorry, querida.

I know we haven’t had much luck finding her.

Unfortunately, it’s frustratingly difficult to track someone like her without alerting ORION to our search.” “I know,” she admitted quietly, pulling away from his touch, making Marcos frown as irritation wound through him. She was running away again. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” Her eyes rose to his, and he nearly gasped at the worry simmering there. “You tell me.” Guilt clenched in him, and he knew his only option was to do the one thing that could destroy everything between them. He had to lie to her. “I don’t know what you mean.” “Yeah. Big surprise there.” The mocking words spat from her lips like bullets as she climbed stiffly from the bed and began yanking her clothes from the floor. Watching her, pain stabbed through Marcos. He’d wounded her. Dios ayudo. “Tori—” “Don’t.” She turned to face him, one hand lifted in a halting gesture, and her dark eyes swimming with anger and misery. “I don’t need your apologies, Devante. You’re right; you don’t owe me any explanations. We don’t have that kind of a relationship. You want to play big, tough hombre. Fine. Just don’t expect me to play the weak, pliable little woman. I’m not made that way.” As if he didn’t already know that. Irritation stirred in Marcos and he swung his legs from the bed, reaching for his jeans. “Damn it, Tori…” She turned away, as if she hadn’t even heard him, and finished sealing up her clothes. Frustration pounding in his veins, Marcos rose and yanked on his jeans, determined to make Tori understand that he didn’t see her as weak or pliant and he liked her just the way she was, even if she drove him loco. He

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heard a thud and turned to see Tori dropping her pack on the floor at her feet, facing the closet. His heart stopped for a dreadful minute. “Tori, what are you doing?” He was striding around the bed in a flash, even as what she was doing became blatantly obvious. “Tori—” “Deal’s off,” she muttered, tossing her clothes into the pack, her eyes averted from him. “If I ever figure out who stole the Screamer, I’ll call Merril and leave a message. We’re done here.” Her words socked him hard in the chest, driving the air from his lungs in a gasp that burned his innards. She was leaving? Numb to the core, he could only stare at her in disbelief as she finished and turned to face him. This was the part where she gave him one of those impish little grins and told him she was joking. He held his breath, waiting for that smile and those words. But all he saw was a hollow agony that tore out his guts, as she reached down and grabbed the pack, slinging it over her shoulder. “Good-bye, Marcos,” she said in a voice so subdued he thought for a moment he imagined it in some horrible nightmare. But the realization that this was no dream hit him as she strode out the bedroom door, her back ramrod straight in spite of the distress he saw in her eyes. “Tori!” He flew after her, adrenaline charging through him at the torturous thought of her leaving this way and his last memory of her being the pain he’d caused. Dios, he couldn’t let her go. He skidded to a halt in the hall, his eyes closing as he realized it was empty. He was chasing a woman who learned to disappear over a decade ago. Tori was already gone. The front door opened and closed, and Marcos’ heart stalled. Racing toward the front of the house, he knew only one thing; he had to stop her. He couldn’t face this place, the memories here, if he let her leave like this. He had to stop her, before ORION or Mythos got their hands on her. “Tor—” He cut off as he barely caught himself from crashing into the petite, dark-haired girl setting her luggage down in his foyer. He blinked, and groaned inwardly in disbelief. He didn’t need this. Not now. “Pilar.” She glanced up and stopped, her mocha eyes widening as they ran over him, noting his bare chest and feet, and his half-fastened jeans. Straightening, she grinned at him, her eyes twinkling. “It appears I am not the only black sheep in the family, hermano. Is there something you didn’t tell Mama about why you didn’t want me here?” Marcos jammed a hand through his hair in frustration. Of course. His mother hadn’t accepted his simple statement of not wanting Pilar out here at the house. She sent her along, anyway. As dearly as he loved his little sister, he really didn’t need this right now. “You’re supposed to be at the penthouse.”

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A wry smirk quirked her tinted lips, drawing his attention. He frowned, studying her. Pilar was wearing make-up, tight black leather pants, and a dark halter-top. When had his baby sister turned into this brazen young woman? He began to see why his mother was so concerned. “What is this, mamita?” She shrugged one shoulder. “Mama doesn’t trust me, anymore. She claims I am una niña impetuosa. So she had Ricardo escort me all the way here, where she says I won’t be able to get into any trouble.” Marcos’ brows shot up. Mama had entrusted Pilar to Ricardo? Ric was only eighteen months older than their sister and hardly a model of decorum or responsibility. That meant his mother had expected him to have a talk with his little brother about giving up those wild ways of his, too. Marcos groaned. This was really not what he needed right now. He had his hands full already, trying to look after Tori… Tori! Dios! “Where is Ricardo, now? He can take you to the city, and I’ll get Merril to find someone to stay with you—” “Oh, Ric’s gone, already. He picked up some woman who was hitchhiking down the lane. Little taller than me, dark hair, muy bonita…” “What?” Marcos exploded, punching the lock release for the front door. There was no one out here, no one except Tori and him. That meant the hitchhiking woman had to be… A low, feral oath slipped between his tight lips. Pilar’s eyes were wide with surprise when he turned back toward her. “What now?” He muttered, stalking past her toward his office. If he was right… “I’ve never heard you swear like that, Marcos. Who was that woman?” She trailed after him, all innocent curiosity. She had no idea, for all her recent trouble, what he was dealing with. “A thief,” he snapped as he crossed the office and opened his desk drawer. Slamming the drawer closed again, he slapped his hands down on the desktop, scowling. Damn it, he knew it would come to this. The spare keycard to his penthouse in New York was missing. Tori had admitted she had nowhere left to go that night he rescued her from the alley outside Pearl’s. Now she’d stolen from him. Not asked, not even threatened. Just taken and disappeared like a ghost. The pain plunged deeper than he ever imagined it could. “Damn it.” Pilar moved hesitantly toward him. “Did she steal anything important?” Only my heart. The realization slammed into him out of nowhere, knocking him back into his seat. He stared blankly at nothing, misery eating a hole in him. He didn’t trust Tori; he couldn’t trust her to not run away every time things got tough. But he loved her anyway. Closing his eyes, he braced

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against the tremble of agony that radiated through his soul. Dios. What did he do, now? He’d driven her away with his lie and his coldness. He had no one to blame, this time, except himself.

Tori rested her head against the landtrans’ seat and closed her eyes, gnawing the inside of her cheek to stave off tears. She wasn’t going to cry, damn it. Marcos was a fling; she knew it wouldn’t last from the first kiss. Why was she so freaking depressed? She should be thrilled it was over. She should be glad that she was the one who walked away, proving she was strong and in control of her emotions. If she really cared that much about Marcos, she never would have walked away, right? So, why did she feel like she just amputated her heart, then? “How can such a bella dama look so very sad?” The gentle query in that smooth, accented voice reminded her of Marcos, even if it didn’t stir her blood the way Marcos’ voice did. Tears slipped between closed lids and Tori bit down on her cheek until she tasted blood, trying to push away the ache in her chest. She never felt so raw or afraid in her life and it was only half Marcos’ fault. Mostly, though, she blamed herself. She was the one suckered in by Hardwire in the first place. If only she’d never taken that job… Tori was more than half convinced that the Hardwire job was as much of a set-up as Protoware. Someone wanted her to find that orb; someone who knew she wouldn’t give it up easily once she realized what it was. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why. Why would anyone upend her life for that stupid piece of metal? If she hadn’t taken that job Jake would still be alive and Marcos would never have gone looking for her. She’d be back in Paris looking forward to her next job, instead of running scared from whoever had kidnapped Electra and tried to kill her… “Senorita? Are you all right?” That voice stabbed her again with the memory of Marcos, who never addressed her so formally. His husky endearments rang in her ears and the memory of his kiss made her want to cry all over again. The mark on her neck from a week ago had nearly faded, but if she closed her eyes, she could still feel the kiss that had branded her. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she answered in a torn whisper. “Ah,” he murmured knowingly, nodding his head. “Mi hermano leaves another broken heart in his wake, I see.” She forced a laugh, remembering the stunned disbelief in Marcos’ eyes right before she walked out. “Actually, I left him.” Then, the rest of what he said registered. “You’re Marcos’ brother?”

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“Sí.” He flashed her a charming grin that lit up his boyish face. Studying him, Tori placed his age at about nineteen or twenty. She wondered if Marcos had been this easy-going and relaxed at twenty. She nearly laughed at the thought. Marcos was probably born with a frown on his face. “Ricardo Devante, at your service, senorita.” She managed a real, if faint, laugh. “It’s Tori. Are all you Devante men so hung up on chivalry?” His answering grin was wicked. “Ah, Tori, Tori. I’m a rogue at heart, bella. Marcos is the white knight of the family.” He leaned closer, a devilish light dancing in his sable eyes. “Tell me, mi bella, what dragons did Marcos slay for you?” She snorted a laugh. “None. I slay my own dragons.” His assessing gaze slid over her and his eyes widened. “I believe you; you don’t look the tragic type. So, then, what are you doing with Marcos? He enjoys saddling himself with fainting flowers who need someone to take care of them.” She cast him a curious look. “You sound like you don’t approve of his taste in women.” Ricardo snorted derisively. “Five years ago, mi hermano got tangled up in Elena Santos’ web. She was a she-devil, looking for a man to use. We tried to warn him, but he would see nothing wrong in her. He was blinded to her manipulative ways by her sob story about needing a man to care for her and remove her from her father’s abusive reach. Marcos, ever the fool, fell for the tale and offered to marry her. She took that offer, strung him along, and then threw it back in his face two years later, the day of their wedding. Marcos hasn’t been the same since.” Pain stabbed Tori’s heart, to hear the story told that way. Marcos made it sound like Elena hung the moon. She was perfect in his eyes – the perfect woman and nearly the perfect wife. God, he must hurt so much! No wonder he refused to open up to her. She was nobody, compared to Elena. “It must be hard,” she managed in a heartbroken whisper, “to have your heart hurt so badly.” “His heart?” Ricardo blinked and shook his head. “More like his pride. Elena told him she no longer needed him; that he was a tool to her, not a savior or a man.” His eyes traveled over Tori, leaving her with the feeling that she was being sized up. “You surprise me, Tori. You do not need him and yet, you are the first woman to ever set foot in his home who has not been blood.” Tori’s heart stopped beating completely. Oh, God. She was right. Entering Marcos’ home had placed her in the unique position to harm him as no one had. She was in the position to help him and she walked away instead. Tori groaned, her head falling forward into her hands. She didn’t need Ricardo to tell her that she destroyed her one and only chance of gaining Marcos’ trust. That fact had been right there, in Marcos’ eyes, and she let her own hurt and anger drive her away.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tori spent the rest of the commute wrapped in silent misery, her mind on the man she left in Vermont and how he was likely to get revenge for her selfish retreat. While she appreciated Ricardo’s attempts to cajole her into a better mood, she felt too raw to muster even a half-hearted smile. Ricardo dropped her off at the upscale apartment building where Marcos’ penthouse was, refusing to leave until she assured him that she’d be just fine, once she got some sleep. Riding the elevator up to the penthouse, she wryly admitted that she did need sleep, even if it wasn’t going to fix any of her problems. Weariness and pain ate at her. Worry for Electra, fear for her own future, and her tumultuous relationship with Marcos had kept her restless for the past week. Now, with the ghost of her mistake hovering over her, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into Marcos’ big bed, burrow into the pillows where she’d be surrounded by the comfort of his scent, and pretend that he was there, that everything was safe and right in her world. It was a fool’s dream, and she was well aware of it. Tori sighed as the elevator opened in the penthouse and she stepped into the darkened living room. “Does it make you feel good to know you can play me, Blair?” Tori jumped at that rough remark from the shadows near the elevator. Oh, God…she was hallucinating. She had to be! Heart pounding, she whirled toward the sound, and her legs nearly gave out as she saw a familiar silhouette against the muted light, confirming that she wasn’t hallucinating. “Marcos! How—?” He had her backed up against the elevator door before she could finish, his scowling face so close that she could feel his hot, harsh breath against her face. “Damn it, Tori, tell me why!” She knew what he was asking and she couldn’t play dumb. Not with Marcos. Not after what she did. “Because I couldn’t stay and I had nowhere else to go.”

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He backed away a step, his grip loosening as he sighed, and the anger dropped from his face. “Tori, I—” “Save it.” She shrugged out of his grasp completely. “You made yourself perfectly understood back in Vermont, Devante. I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to trust.” She turned her face away as the pain of betrayal stabbed her. “Sorry, but I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I can’t play Elena for you.” He froze, and she knew she’d probably gone too far, but, damn it, she was past caring if she hurt him. She was exhausted and soul-sick. She hated feeling that he used her and actually caring that he used her. The words flew from her mouth, unchecked, “That’s right, Devante. I know all about Elena, now; not just your little rose-colored vision. And I know all about your little white knight routine, too. Love ‘em, fix ‘em, and then leave ‘em. Well, I don’t need you. That must gall you, huh? I don’t need or want to be fixed and I’m capable of leaving you.” He was silent for a long moment before, in a husky voice, he murmured, “You forgot the loving part.” A cold knot settled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t have this conversation. “I don’t believe in love.” And, just like that, Marcos’ expression grew dark with determination, and she knew she’d stepped totally beyond a line; but she didn’t have a clue what one she’d crossed. She went to back away, but Marcos scooped her off her feet in a move that surprised her and was halfway toward his bedroom before she realized where he was headed. A small grin tugged at her lips as renewed energy coursed through her, and she pressed against him provocatively. “¡Basta!,” he ordered quietly, his tone resolute and his expression grim in a way that caused her eyes to widen in apprehension. Stop? What was Marcos up to? In the bedroom, he set her on her feet and began gently undressing her, his touch tender but impersonal in a way that sent confusion rushing through Tori. She tensed, her wary eyes following his every motion as he stepped away from her, moved to his dresser, and retrieved one of his t-shirts, returning to slip it over her head and arms. The material swam on her slighter frame. Tori raised questioning eyes to Marcos’ face and froze. There was familiar heat in his eyes, but it was tempered in a way she’d never seen before. Her breath caught as he took her hand, lifting it to his lips to plant a soft kiss on her palm, before silently directing her toward the bed. Tori stood silently, barely resisting the urge to cross her arms protectively over her body as she fought unfamiliar swells of feeling as she watched him turn down the covers of the bed, wondering what he was up to. No one acted the way he was acting without an ulterior motive. What did he want? What

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was he going to demand she do? A frisson of trepidation shot through her as he took her hand and settled her into the bed, pulling the sheets up over her. Then he turned away, stripping off his shirt and jeans. Now. He would make his demand now, knowing he had her trapped. But Marcos never said a word. He kept his back to her, leaving her only an eyeful of his bare, muscular rear – God, he had a great ass – but never even a glimpse of the other side, as he moved back toward his bureau and removed something from the drawer that stood open. She laughed, her anxiety dissipating, as he put on a pair of sweatpants. “Marcos, this is ridiculous—” He strode back to the bed, and the strange light in his eyes halted her words before she finished. Silently, she watched him climb into the bed, pulling up the sheets before he drew her against his warm body. “Tonight,” he murmured against her hair, “we sleep.” She swallowed hard. Sleep? He came all the way from Vermont just to sleep? “Why’d you come back here?” His arm snugged around her and his lips brushed her hair. “I came back for you, querida.” Her pulse tripped, but she told herself she was being silly. He hadn’t meant that romantically. “I know. You were pissed about the spare key. You came to confront the thief.” “No. Though, at first,” he admitted huskily, “I was pretty angry, but not as mad as I was hurt.” His hand smoothed over her back. “I came back for you. I didn’t think I could sleep without you in my arms.” Tori froze as pain stabbed through her, deeper than ever before. This was worse than betrayal. She’d never been a replacement, before. Sucking in a breath, she told herself she didn’t care, because this wasn’t a real affair, anyway. This was just about sex. “Don’t you mean, without Elena?” She asked quietly. “I know I’m just a replacement and that’s okay, because I—” Her eyes widened in surprise as he cut off her words with a kiss, his mouth fusing over hers for a long moment in a kiss so sweet, and so hungry, that Tori was sure she’d die. Oh, God, she wanted him. Her hands came up, clutching at his shoulders, as she felt his hands sliding slowly over her body. Then he drew away, hugging her close, and she trembled with emotion as, in a gravelly voice, he murmured, “I meant without you, Tori. You’re nobody’s replacement.” Her heart clenched and cracked, pricking the backs of her eyes with tears. He wanted her. No one had ever really wanted her before. Oh, God. She felt too raw, too exposed. To distract herself, she ran

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her hand over Marcos’ bare, muscular chest. She needed to remind herself that this was physical. “Marcos, I want to have sex.” It was his turn to tense, a frown crossing his face. “No. Go to sleep, querida.” Sleep. Right. Tori bit back a laugh. He had to be joking. She’d never sleep, with all these strange feelings jumbling around inside her. She needed him to make everything clear for her; she needed to be able to shove them all back where they belonged. With a sigh, she laid her head against Marcos’ chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She breathed in his warm, masculine scent and felt the gentle stroke of his hand against her back. And, before long, she felt the blissful onset of sleep, sheltered within her lover’s embrace.

Marcos breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Tori relax against him. Cradling her warmth against himself, he let his eyes drift closed. From the moment he realized his spare keycard was missing, he was afraid for her. Their deal to go to Vermont wasn’t made for any ulterior motives; he wanted her safe. Only, he realized too late that she didn’t know that. He never told her the truth. Suddenly, the danger of the secrets he kept shone crystal clear to him. Tori believed ORION was her only threat, and that finding Electra, and the Screamer, was all she had to do to go back to life as normal. In his selfish desire to have Tori need him for safety, he placed her in a danger he couldn’t protect her from. Because Tori didn’t need protection; or she hadn’t, before he bulldozed his way into her life. She was strong, fiercely independent, and amazingly intelligent. More than once, he watched her combine those energies to solve her own problems. He hugged her close, feeling the rightness of having Tori in his arms. It was amazing. All these years, he mistakenly believed he could only love a woman who needed his protection, strength, and help. Elena had claimed to need all three, but they hadn’t been enough for her. She wanted every minute of his day, as well. She hadn’t wanted him to create Minos Enterprises, and hadn’t understood why he needed to. Marcos’ eyes flew open as he realized she was right; she hadn’t loved him and he hadn’t loved her. They both sought something the other couldn’t give. If he’d loved her, what she asked would never have seemed a sacrifice. But it had, and he was hurt and angry, his pride stung, when she walked away. Yet, he still let her go. His eyes went to the woman in his arms now and he swallowed hard. He came after Tori. She wasn’t anything like Elena. She wasn’t fragile or refined. She didn’t need his strength, his protection, or his help. She only leaned on his support in times of crisis and accepted his assistance when her own resources weren’t enough. And she expected him to do the same, he realized in surprise. Whether she’d admit it or not, Tori’s actions spoke volumes of her commitment; she was already acting as if they shared

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a real relationship. His inability to take the support she offered back in Vermont sent her running from his arms. Marcos stroked gentle fingers over her cheek, smiling at the peace on her sleeping face. Letting her go never even crossed his mind. All he was able to think about was getting her back. He’d called Merril to send one of the company’s female security agents to look after Pilar and kicked in the overdrive flight unit in the landtrans to beat Tori back to the penthouse, determined to get her to change her mind. And when he saw her… Marcos sucked in a breath, his arms tightening around Tori, drawing a sleepy murmur from her. She said she didn’t believe in love. On the drive back to the city, he realized that she’d long since replaced tenderness with sex; that was why she refused to view the act as anything to do with love. To gain Tori’s love, he was going to end up testing his control as never before. He had to separate tenderness from desire, show her the former while restraining the latter. He couldn’t leave her with any more excuses to run away.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

She was going nuts. Absolutely, freaking out of her mind! And it was all Marcos’ fault. Tori glanced up from the computer, her gaze going across the office to where the man in question sat on the sofa, his epad propped on his knee and his cell phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he conferenced with Merril. He looked so calm and completely in control of himself, and she hated him for that. God, she just wanted to freaking scream! They’d been back at the house in Vermont for two weeks, now. Marcos’ sister, Pilar, was safely ensconced in the penthouse, complete with a dour-faced chaperone who made Tori pity the girl. It was just the two of them up here at the house, now. Yet, Marcos still refused to have sex. They were sharing the same freaking bed and she couldn’t get the man’s control to crack. He wore those sweatpants she was growing to despise and had provided her with a nightgown that was more functional than sexy. And all she wanted to know was what the hell kind of game he was playing at. She didn’t want to wear clothes to bed, damn it. She wanted to rip off her nightgown and his sweats and have hot, wild sex until the burning ache inside her was sated. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure anymore if it ever would be. Tori frowned, shifting uncomfortably at the thought. He was up to something. She could feel it. Why was he doing this to her? He was attentive and tender, so she knew he wasn’t punishing her out of anger. She saw the hunger in his eyes and felt his erection against her body, so he couldn’t have lost interest in her. It was small consolation to know this had to be killing him as much as it was her. A digitized ding drew her attention back to the computer. She’d been researching her best lead in finding the Screamer – an arms dealer who specialized in untested technology, Clem Lowell. She smirked. He sounded like one of those backwater, redneck guys who labeled themselves “the freedom fighter’s friend,” or some such shit.

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Hmm. Her bid board mail was blinking. Odd. The only job she had out there was the Hardwire one, and she stalled that one back in Paris with an indefinite, “I’ll contact you when it’s done.” And she wasn’t taking any new bids, lately. Uneasiness prickled along her spine. Something was up. The only question was, what? She frowned, pulling up the message. No return address. Not entirely a surprise; many of her clients’ initial inquiries had been bid mail only. As she scanned the contents, fury poured through Tori, and she swore. “You asshole!” “Problem?” Marcos glanced up. She bit out a laugh. “You could call it that. It’s Jeremiah Craine.” “I’ll call you back,” Marcos said into his phone, before turning the power off and tossing the unit aside, at the same time shifting the epad to the sofa as he rose and came to stand behind her. “What’s the problem with this Jeremiah Craine?” Tori sighed, smiling wryly, as Marcos’ hands slid slowly up and down her arms, before one lifted to absently rub the back of her neck. God, that felt good. She arched into his touch, and considered the irony of it. Out of bed, Marcos touched her as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing. Whether they were working together or just hanging out together, he found reasons to touch her. These touches were intimate, but designed to alleviate tension, not create it. But lately, when they were in bed together, his hands grew still, and he grew tense. “Why do you keep doing that?” She asked quietly, closing her eyes as she arched further into his stroking hands with a small purr of pleasure. “Keep doing what?” His voice was husky and his touch shifted slightly, becoming less soothing and more erotic as it worked over her collarbone. “You touch me like you want me, except when we’re in bed.” “I do want you,” he whispered against her ear, leaning in to trace soft kisses over her neck. His hands slid over her shoulders and slowly down her arms, leaving heat in their wake. “I…” He cut off, and she turned to see that expressionless mask click into place, even though his eyes still blazed with need. “I think we should get back to work. Who is Jeremiah Craine?” Tori sighed heavily. Obviously, Marcos had an issue they needed to discuss, but now wasn’t the time. “‘Give up your crown, T-Bird. There’s a new King, and I’m having a Scream at the Mage-King’s expense,’” Marcos read quietly over her shoulder. “What’s he talking about?” She rubbed her face wearily. “Jeremiah Craine is a thief, like me. He’s been trying to oust me and become the world’s top thief for the past six months or so.”

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He shot her a disbelieving look. “People actually compete for that title?” She shrugged. She already knew thievery wasn’t something Marcos admired. “Yeah.” “You’re joking!” “‘Fraid not,” she answered with a smirk. “In my business, you’re only as good as your rep.” “And yours is?” His lips skimmed her ear, sending heat sliding through her. All right. She had enough of this playing around. Time to get down and dirty and if he wasn’t going to do it, she’d just have to take matters into her own hand. Spinning the chair to bring them face-toface, she smiled seductively into his surprised expression as she edged closer, whispering, “I’m the best, baby. One hundred percent.” And, with that, she fused their lips in a kiss that curled her toes. Let him shrug that off.

Marcos nearly died at the touch of Tori’s lips, so warm and sweet. Dios. These past two weeks had been the longest of his life and he questioned his own sanity more than once. The more time he spent with Tori, the more convinced he became that she was The One. But how could he love her this much and still not trust her? He wanted her so badly he was coming unglued. He came up with every excuse he could to touch her during the day, when it was reasonably safe, and there were enough things to distract him. But at night, with her curled against his body, he didn’t dare touch her, or he knew he’d break his self-imposed rule, and make love to her. And he’d lose any emotional ground he’d gained with Tori. Now, however, with her sweet lips fused against his mouth, her tongue softly delving in to taste him, Marcos knew he’d lost the battle. He had to have her. His body was so alive with want, there was no containing that desire. Reaching between them, he yanked open her shirt, molding his hands over her soft breasts, and drinking in her sweet, intoxicating moan as she pressed into his touch. Tori was his addiction; everything he could possibly want in a woman. He felt her pebbled nipples against his palms and growled with need as he drank in her small gasp of pleasure. He had to feel her, to be in her. Now. He slid his hands to her hips, pulled her from the chair, and stripped off her tight pants, setting her on the edge of his desk as he delved his fingers into her heat, hissing out a groan as her slickness covered his fingers. She arched into his touch, breaking their kiss to gasp his name, and Marcos watched her eyes darken with arousal. Bending his head, he tasted the skin above her lace and satin bra hungrily, and felt her eager hands at the fastening of his jeans. He groaned, his hips bucking reflexively as her hands delved inside, gliding over his erection, freeing him. Dios! “Marcos,” she breathed, arching into his laving tongue, her hips shifting toward him. “Now.”

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He wasn’t about to argue with that demand; not with her velvety hands on him, stroking and urging. Removing her hands from his body, he placed them flat on the desk, and then grasped her hips, lifting her slightly as he drove in hard. He groaned, feeling her slick heat glove him, and bent his head to lave the nipple he’d exposed. “Tori,” he murmured her name reverently against her skin, his world bound up in this one amazing woman who didn’t need him, and yet made him feel needed. She humbled him and he cherished her. “Mi carina.” Tori froze, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. If she was waiting for him to take the words back, or make light of them, she could forget it. He meant every word. Slipping his hands up her sides, he undid her bra, removing it to expose her turgid nipples to his view. Cupping her breasts, he feasted on the smooth, warm mounds, hearing her breath leave her on a shuddering moan as she softened in his arms. He laved her nipple and felt her hips buck, nearly sending his eyes rolling back in his head at the clench and flex of her flesh. It was everything he could do to keep control of his body right now. Control of his heart, he knew, was already lost.

***

She lay against Marcos’ warm, bare chest, his heart beating steadily beneath her cheek as she watched the fire in the grate crackle. She couldn’t remember ever having been so much at peace, before. What he did earlier had been amazing.

Not that they never had sex before, but there was

something…different about Marcos this time. And those words… She shivered with the memory as a wave of contentment flowed over her. “Cold?” Marcos’ soft whisper enveloped her, even as she felt him settle the blanket around her more securely, his touch so tender she had to blink away tears. Oh, God. What was he doing to her? She kept waiting for that panicky sense that told her it was time to go, but it wasn’t coming. That should have frightened her; but she didn’t feel scared. She felt…happy. Snuggling deeper under the fleece blanket that warmed her naked skin, she breathed in the spicy scent of Marcos that enfolded her as securely as his arms and shook her head mutely. No, she wasn’t cold. She felt the brush of his lips against her hair, the stroking motion of his hand over her blanketcovered side, and wondered what he was thinking. He didn’t leave her wondering long. “Why does Craine think he’s outdone your reputation?”

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Tori stilled, her heart quivering within her chest. No. Anything but this. She’d even discuss that whole relationship issue he had with her, if it meant she didn’t have to talk about Craine, or what he did. Not right now, with his words and lovemaking still warming her blood. But he asked, and she knew she couldn’t hide the truth from him. God; what a fucking mess. “Tori?” She sighed heavily. There was no getting around this. “Because he’s cracked the one security system I never touched,” she murmured, closing her eyes as she awaited the inevitable explosion of his fury. When it never came, she opened her eyes warily, and looked up at him. The curious expression on his face surprised her. “Which is?” He dropped his head to trace light kisses over her face and throat. Tori’s heart stopped completely. Was he actually saying he didn’t know? She met his eyes and nearly wept with the unfairness of it. He didn’t know what she was talking about. Oh, God. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t tell him. But she had to. Biting her lip, she pulled away as she burrowed into the blanket, avoiding his gaze as she reminded herself that Marcos respected honesty above all else. Lifting tortured eyes to his concerned face, she rasped, “Minos Enterprises.” His body snapped rigid as her words hit him, and Tori felt her heart shatter at the rage that engulfed his face. “Marcos, I—” “Craine stole the Screamer?” His voice was tight, the words chopping out like bullets. “How?” Tori closed her eyes. Clearly, Marcos hadn’t read any further than the opening lines of Craine’s email. God, he wasn’t going to like this. “I guess I’ll find that out when I get there.” She heard his sharp intake of air. “Get where?” “To Craine’s.” Dead silence met her statement. Worried, Tori opened her eyes, and gasped. If she thought Marcos was tense and scowling before, she hadn’t seen a thing, she realized as she swallowed hard, watching the fury crackle in Marcos’ eyes. “Over my dead body.” “Marcos—” “No, querida. I won’t let you face off against some thug just to find out how he stole from me.” His expression was carved in ice. “That’s a job for the authorities.”

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“Devante?” She deliberately used his last name and let him hear her exasperation. His eyes snapped to hers, as she expected. “Shut up.” That almost brought a smile to his lips. She saw the flicker of it at the edges of his mouth, and the laughter that sparked briefly in his eyes. Sure that she finally had his undivided attention, she nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Now, let me lay it out for you. Yes, facing Craine is dangerous. He’s known as the Master of Traps for a reason.

Supposedly, his hideaway has more tricks and traps than a dozen

illusionists. But there are two things working for me in this.” He was glaring at her, now, clearly not happy with her logic. “What?” “One, he dared me to come and retrieve the Screamer.” “When?” “In his e-mail. If you’d finished reading, you’d have seen the challenge he leveled.” Marcos made an impatient noise. “How is any of that an advantage?” “Because he’s expecting a grand showdown. Everything I’ve studied or heard about Craine says he’s arrogant and self-righteous.” This time, Marcos did smile, a small, wry twist of his lips as he leaned toward her, slipping the edge of the blanket down to expose her bare shoulders. “I remember you using both of those terms in reference to me, before.” She swatted his hands away, grimly determined to not let him distract her. “Not like Craine is. You throw that macho, morally-superior attitude around, sometimes—” “Gracias,” he said dryly, resting one hand on her thigh. “Nice to know you don’t notice my flaws, querida.” She huffed out an exasperated breath. The one time she wanted him to be serious and intent, and he was flippant! “Pay attention, Devante.” “I am,” he promised solemnly, and when his troubled eyes lifted, Tori nearly gasped at the worry there. “What’s Craine like, then?” “He believes he’s intellectually superior to everyone else, for one thing.” He frowned, though his eyes were warm. “You must drive him nuts.” She nodded, sighing. “Craine hates me. We’ve never actually met, but his attitude on the bid boards is enough to convince anyone.” “All right, so he invited you to come try to get the Screamer back. What’s the second advantage?” She flashed him a wicked grin. “I know where Craine’s lair is.”

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Marcos watched that familiar, impish grin bloom on Tori’s face, and felt a chill creep along his spine and scalp. Before his eyes flashed an image – the strongest premonition he’d ever had – that plunged ice through his blood. Tori raced along the slate roof, her feet slipping, sending her perilously closer to the edge with every frantic step. Flashes of light exploded around her, coming dangerously closer. She gasped, skidding, as she came to the edge of the roof, teetered there for a second, and then plummeted into open space. Marcos jerked back into reality, his heart hammering frantically, to find Tori leaning close, her gentle eyes worried. “Marcos?” She whispered softly, her fingers skimming his cheek. “What is it?” He shuddered with remembered fear, lifting his hand to clasp hers fiercely against his face as he fought to reassert control of his scattered emotions. He hadn’t had a premonition since the day he followed Tori to Pearl’s, and never one so strong. But, to explain his fear to Tori, he would have to first explain the premonitions his family tried so hard to ignore. As he stared into Tori’s dark, anxious eyes, Marcos’ alarm shifted to determination. He always believed that he’d been granted his visions for a reason. Looking at Tori, he accepted the fact that she was the reason. While he had vague senses or flashes about other people or events, none had been as clear as the premonitions that had dogged him every time Tori walked into harm’s way. Clearly, he was spared death as a child to save Tori from her enemies, and herself. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. He would see to it that no evil befell this woman; he would make sure she never had cause to fear. “Where is this lair?” She shot him a wary look. “Why does it matter? I’ll be in and out in no time, and—” “Where is it?” He was already on his feet, moving toward the office. He wasn’t about to give her room to evade him on this one. “Marcos,” she called after him, a note of annoyance entering her voice as she jumped up and followed him, awkwardly clutching the blanket around her. “What’s gotten into you? I thought you’d be happy—” “Happy?” He exploded, whirling to pin her against the wall, causing her grasp on the blanket to disappear as she gasped in surprise. How could she even think he was happy about her rushing headlong into danger? “No, querida, I’m not happy. I’m not happy with this need you feel to prove to everyone how tough you are. I’m not happy that you keep evading every damn question I ask. And I’m really not happy that you’d put yourself in harm’s way for pride.”

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With that, he sealed his mouth over hers in a kiss that was almost feral in his need to convince her to let him protect her. It was a claim, and the bite of her nails into his shoulders, the hunger of her kiss, told him she was an eager participant. Dragging his mouth from hers, he bit the side of her neck until she arched with a cry of mingled pleasure and pain, even as her hands opened his fly, freeing him to her touch. Marcos thrust her thighs apart and drove in hard, rocking into her with savage thrusts that she met with wild abandon, until he felt her body clench and tremble around his, and she screamed with the untamed passion of her orgasm, even as his own earth-shattering release hit. As the shockwaves receded, Marcos rested his forehead against hers and breathed, “I won’t lose you to your pride, Tori.” “This isn’t about pride,” she murmured back. “No?” He pulled back, suspicion pricking him. “No.” “Revenge, then…” “It’s not about revenge, either.” He sucked in an exasperated breath. Only Tori could stir his passion and his rage at the same time. “Then what is it?” “It’s about the Screamer,” she said as she looped her arms around his neck. His hands slid over her thighs and hips, easing up her flesh in small, circular strokes. “It’s just a machine, Tori.” “And I made a promise.” The flare of suspicion was back. What had she promised? “To whom?” She laughed softly as she burrowed her fingers through his hair and urged him in for a kiss. Just before their lips met, she met his eyes, and whispered, “To you.” I always keep my promises. Her words from that day in his workshop when they discussed her work rushed over him and his heart swelled with emotion. She was going to the wall, for him. No one, with the exception of Lawson Archer, had ever done that before. His chest constricted then. It was a damned pity she couldn’t love him, because he was starting to think he could trust her.

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I still think we should call in the authorities.” Tori looked up from her epad, across to where Marcos sat at his woodshop worktable, his eyes on the wood clamped in the vise. He looked as if his attention focused solely on the wooden panel, but Tori knew differently, from the tone of his voice. She sighed heavily. They repeated the same argument over the past three hours. Hell, they’d had this discussion for the past three days. “And I already told you, that would be stupid and dangerous,” she returned wearily, leaning back against the wall from her position on the cabinet. “Not as dangerous as what you’re proposing.” He remained grim-faced, the plane in his hands moving over the wood with deliberate strokes. “For God’s sake, Tori, you want to waltz in there and steal the damned thing back! You’re talking about suicide!” She rolled her eyes. “Look, I know Craine—” He set down the plane with a thud and spun himself around on the stool to face her. “You’ve already admitted you’ve never met the man face-to-face. Make up your mind, Tori.” She gritted her teeth in frustration. God, he was going to drive her nuts with his ignorance of her life. She wasn’t used to dealing with people who had no clue how her world worked. Meeting his gaze levelly, she said, “My business isn’t like yours, Marcos. We don’t have business lunches and strategy meetings, or face-to-face shit like that. We have friends and partners, and contacts. And we make damned sure we know who our enemies are, where they work from, and what they can do. My business doesn’t forgive error.” “And yet you’ve made several, recently.” Tori’s eyes widened as her heart stopped for one dreadful instant, her fears about Marcos being an ORION or GSS agent resurfacing. She’d nearly forgotten all her original suspicions. Now, her chest

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constricted and she couldn’t breathe. Feeling strangled by her doubts, she barely managed, “What do you mean?” “First, you took a job that should have made you suspicious,” he said, ticking each event off on his fingers. “Then, you set up that ridiculous auction, and didn’t even plan an escape—” “I had an egress,” she shot back defiantly. “You never double-checked your exit. You had no idea that it’d been bricked over.” Fury flared in Tori. Damn it, did he really think she was that stupid? “I cased every inch of that shithole, Devante. I knew that emergency exit was bricked over – all except for a ventilation grate just below the first-floor ceiling. That grate didn’t have any bolts and I tested to make sure it would slide out easily. I had the gloves to my SCIDS with me when I went to the auction. I was prepared to climb out, if I had to, and disappear before they had any idea where I’d gone. That’s what I was preparing to do, when someone ruined my timing by playing white knight.” He froze, studying her silently, as if he didn’t believe her. Then, his eyes going wide, he muttered, “You’re serious!” She gritted her teeth against the urge to throw something at him. “I never joke about my work.” He flinched, his eyes darkening, and she knew he was debating making a comment about her work. She let her glare travel straight through him, silently telling him what a bad idea that comment would be. His jaw clenched, before he snapped, “That still doesn’t explain why calling in the authorities is such a problem.” “Because Craine’s a very smart man, and well-connected. You call in GSS, and he’ll know. And he’ll disappear. Again.” His eyes narrowed. “How could he possibly know?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. He must have contacts in the system, because he’s escaped arrest nets twice in the past three years, when no other thief – myself included – would ever have known they were coming.” “Making him an even more dangerous rival. Tori…” She sighed. “Look, I know you don’t like my idea—” “No, querida. I don’t just ‘not like’ your idea. I hate it.” She met his intense gaze, her own eyes widening at the vehemence she read there. She felt breathless under the force of those fiery eyes. “Why?”

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Marcos was on his feet in a flash, leaning over her to plant a hard, thorough kiss on her. Drawing away, his eyes burned into her soul, sucking the last of Tori’s breath away and leaving her dizzy as he murmured, “Because I don’t want to lose you.” Tori stared at him, her heart pounding triple time under the heat that rolled from him. God, she must be coming unhinged, to let a man effect her this way. That thought snapped through the lust fogging her brain, and determination rushed to the surface. Laying her hand against his cheek, she managed to keep her voice quiet but steady as she said, “It’s not your choice to make. I’m going to Aspen without you.” “Over my dead body.” Her shoulders straightened as she drew her tough shell tighter, not letting him see her cracking heart. He wasn’t going to like this, but she had to do it. She didn’t know how to work any other way. “I have to. It’s better that way. I’m used to working alone, and—” “Goddammit, Tori!” He exploded ferociously, his hands gripping her shoulders so tightly anxiety flashed through her. He had a good nine inches and at least a hundred pounds on her. He could hurt her, if he wanted to. Tori forced herself to draw even breaths, forcing down her apprehension. This was Marcos. He never caused her any harm before, even if he was a little heavy-handed with her when she dug her heels in on something. Even when he hated her, Marcos never laid a hand on her in actual violence. However, she admitted as she felt his fingers digging into her skin, she never heard him swear like that before, either. Wincing, she looked up into eyes so wild with terror that they were savage, as Marcos rasped, “You want to go traipsing into Craine’s lair like a little lunatic? Fine. You want to do it without contacting the authorities? I don’t like it, but I’ll deal. But you will not go anywhere near that place without me.” “Marcos, you’re hurting me,” she whispered as pain radiated through her. Only, it wasn’t the discomfort caused by his tight grip on her shoulders; that, she barely felt. Misery stabbed her heart so deeply she wanted to die, from the ache of knowing that Marcos didn’t even trust her to do her job. Her words pierced the haze of fear in his eyes, and he loosened his grasp, his face engulfed in horror as he pulled her against him with a softly murmured, “I’m sorry, querida.” She clung to him, feeling the tremble that worked through him, and realized there was something more than her stubbornness eating at Marcos. It had to have something to do with that strange black-out episode he had a couple of days ago. Up until that moment, he was relaxed, if worried. Then, his eyes went all blank and funny, his pupils fixed, and when he snapped back he was sweating, terrified. And, ever since, he adamantly opposed her well-thought-out plan to infiltrate Craine’s lair and retrieve the

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Screamer prototype. Yet, no matter how many times they argued over it, or how hard she pressed him, he still refused to tell her what had happened to change his mind. With a resigned sigh, she admitted that arguing wasn’t doing any good. Time to change tactics. “Marcos, please talk to me,” she murmured as she burrowed into his embrace, surrounding herself with his comforting scent. No man would ever smell more right to her than this one. “Tell me what frightened you.” His arms tightened around her, and she felt, as much as heard, his intake of air. “I can’t.” Tori closed her eyes, fighting the shattering feeling of her heart. “You still can’t trust me, can you?” His hand slid into the hair she left hanging loose, and he tugged her head back gently, so that she was looking up into his eyes, as he whispered, “I trust you with my life, Tori.” Her breath stalled and her heart forgot how to beat, as she saw the conviction in his eyes. He trusted her! “Then why can’t you trust me to do my job?” His eyes closed, and she saw the muscles in his jaw work. Realization dawned. “It’s not about trust, is it?” He sighed heavily and his eyes opened again, a resigned light in them as he dropped his head to brush a soft kiss over her lips. “No, it’s not.” “It’s about that secret mission thing, isn’t it? Who do you work for? GSS? ORION?” He shook his head, his expression grim. “If I tell you, querida, you must promise that it remains between us.” She almost laughed. This was all so cloak-and-dagger. So totally out of her league. It was an ironic kind of humor that Marcos, who was always so set against her rather harmless occupation, would be involved in anything not totally above board. But there was nothing funny about the somber, expectant look in his eyes, so, with a small smile, she laid her hand against his cheek and murmured, “I’m a thief, Marcos, not a spy. When are you going to learn the difference?” The light in his eyes dimmed slightly, the way it did every time she reminded him of what she did for a living. “Maybe never,” he admitted sadly. “My job really bothers you that much, doesn’t it?” He held her gaze levelly. “‘Thou shalt not steal.’”

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Tori’s eyes widened in surprise. She thought he had a problem with her occupation because she only stole from companies and organizations and he ran one of the world’s largest research-development companies. “This is a religious objection?” “It is who I am,” he said with a shrug. Her lips quirked. This was too funny. “And ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’?” He blinked at her, clearly not understanding her point. “What do you mean?” She laughed, shaking her head. How could such an intelligent man be so dense? “I’m talking about sex, Marcos. According to the ancient beliefs, any sex outside of marriage is adultery. Guess what?” She grinned wickedly at him. “We’re not married.” His eyes flashed with something she couldn’t define, before he bent his head and put his lips to the sensitive nerve center just below her ear, nibbling softly before he whispered, “Technically, no. Not yet.” Tori froze, as panic plunged through her. “Not at all.” He made no comment, his mouth moving over her throat in a distracting pattern. What were they talking about? Tori couldn’t remember and couldn’t make herself care. She pressed closer, her fingers sliding into his hair as she pulled him closer. Marcos’ breath sighed over her skin, before he pulled away reluctantly, meeting her eyes. “Tori, I work for a secret organization known as Mythos. Our job is to expose the corruption within the Global Security Sector and ORION.” She blinked, trying to focus on his words through a mind hazy with sensation. He was saying he… “You spy on the government? You?” A smile flickered briefly at his lips. “That’s a rather simplistic explanation, but yes.” She pulled away, confused, as reality returned with a rush, and she felt propelled into an alternate dimension. Marcos was authority. He breathed rules and laws, established civilization and organized society. He was the cornerstone of everything she ever saw as “authority.” Everything she hated for so many years. What he was saying might have made sense for any other man she knew, including Marcos’ brother, Ricardo, but not Marcos. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why? Why would you even want to prove corruption?” He rested his large, tapered hands on her jeans-clad thighs and the warmth of his massaging fingers seeped through her as she watched him turn over what he was about to say. He sighed, then, and faced her grimly. “My father was Ramiro Devante.”

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She blinked, and gasped. This had to be an alternate universe! It wasn’t that she didn’t know that blood tainted the Devante money; that much had come out in more than one article she read about Marcos when she studied Minos Enterprises. But Ramiro Devante? Good God… “The drug lord?” He grimaced in disgust, but nodded. “The same.” She was stunned. No, she was shocked. To even think that law-abiding, stoic Marcos, with his firm religious convictions and his distaste for violence and killing, was the son of one of the world’s most infamous criminals seemed impossible. It was like comparing night and day. And yet, when she thought about it, that connection actually explained a lot of things, though… “I still don’t understand what that has to do with this Mythos you mentioned, or spying on ORION.” He sighed. “Lawson Archer, the man who runs Mythos, believes that ORION, at very least, is corrupt from the top down. I’m inclined to agree with him, after having met Jason Carrick. Archer also believes that ORION is probably connected to the alien threat, and—” “Whoa.” Tori sat up straight as a chill raced down her spine. “Aliens? You mean they’re real?” He leveled an impatient look at her. “Don’t tell me you don’t follow the news. Dios, Tori…” She shrugged. “I know there’s been all sorts of stuff on the news about the ‘alien menace’ and the government’s issued all sorts of warnings and speeches and stuff like that. I figured, knowing how GSS and ORION are, it was probably at least three-quarters propaganda, so I kind of ignored it.” He shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “The Anaz-Voohri are a very real threat, querida. They’re a race of genetically engineered super soldiers who want to eradicate us all and take over the Earth.” Tori straightened, something clicking together in her brain. “Super soldiers? Like the ORION ones CEM was trying to develop? With nanotechnological implants?” His brow furrowed.

“According to our intelligence.

But, so far, no one’s been able to

conclusively prove—” “I can!” Tori spun herself around and off the counter in one fluid move, landing lightly on her feet. God, how could she have missed it, all this time? “Marcos, my disc! It’s got to be the key!” “Key to what?” Excitement pounded in her veins. “That disc contains a nanotech protocol almost exactly like the CEM experimental protocol. Except there were symbols I didn’t understand. I thought they might be chemical notations, but what if they were really DNA? Alien DNA?”

Marcos couldn’t hold back his smile as he watched Tori pace, the words flying from her mouth as she thought out loud. She was like a whirlwind, all motion and energy. He loved watching the way her

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mind worked; the way the glow of an idea crossed her face, lighting her from the inside. He enjoyed watching brain and body work in tandem as her natural energy took over. Seeing all that extraordinary intelligence at work was breathtaking. A shaft of wariness slid through him, then. As beautiful as she looked when she latched onto an idea, those thought processes were equally dangerous. He was well acquainted with Tori’s impulsive streak and knew it tended to work hand-in-glove with her thought processes. Even as that thought crossed his mind, Marcos sighed, and stepped into the path of the whirlwind. “Tori, querida, slow down, take a deep breath, and explain what you’re talking about. How do you know what CEM’s written protocol looks like?” “I saw it,” she said distractedly, clearly not paying him any real attention. Marcos latched onto her arm as a chill shot through him. “How?” She paused, blinking, and then frowned at his hand on her arm, before meeting his gaze. “What?” “How did you see the protocol from CEM?” She reached up with her free hand, pushing aside her bangs to reveal the thin line of a scar right along her hairline. “I was one of their guinea pigs. There was absolutely nothing wrong with me, before CEM got their hands on me. In one short decade, they turned my childhood into a living nightmare. They were trying to turn me into something I didn’t want to be; something you’d have really hated.” Her eyes dropped. “They tried to turn me into an assassin, Marcos.” Marcos’ chest constricted at the pain in her voice, even as the irony of it struck him. The Center for Evolutionary Medicine and ORION had tried to turn the perfect killing machine into an assassin. Tori had rebelled against CEM’s training program, only to fall right into the trap of her original programming. In a flash, he saw the events of his initial premonition about the Anaz-Voohri again. A coded alien communication to Earth. He and Archer had believed that communication was what led to the blackout and the discovery of the first of the Pleiades women – Maya Rembrandt. Now, staring down at Tori’s bent head, Marcos realized they were wrong. Maya hadn’t received that coded message; she played that much straight with Dylan. The coded transmission had been with Tori – her first contact with the mysterious Hardwire. They set her up to follow her original programming – programming which CEM’s protocols had, unwittingly, only enhanced. “Tori…” Her dark head lifted, her eyes bright in a way that told him her brain was working again. “What’s the Screamer supposed to do, again?” She wanted to know. “Disables nanotech, right?” “Yes, but—”

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“And the formula on that disc is probably the genetic roadmap of alien nanotech. Can the Screamer’s settings be modified to knock out new nanotech?” He shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s programmed to scramble the frequencies between nanobots, not actually effect the DNA.” “So, it could conceivably be used against the aliens, right?” He straightened abruptly. Of course! Why hadn’t he seen that particular application of the equipment? Probably, he admitted, because he was too worried about preventing any more children from going through what he suffered as a child. “Probably.” “Do the headwork with me, here, Marcos. I steal the orb, at the request of a mysterious but clearly wealthy and knowledgeable client, and it contains the coding and roadmap for a superior nanobot, utilizing alien DNA. ORION tries to steal it from me and kills Jake. About the same time, Craine – who, by the way, is known to take a lot of government theft projects – breaks into the Staten Island facility of Minos Enterprises and swipes the Screamer prototype before it’s been fully tested, and it’s a weapon meant to mess with nanocircuitry. I know for a fact that Craine doesn’t come cheap, so we can assume his employer is paying a hefty sum. Putting all of that together, I can only think of one group who would have the means and resources to get both items together. ORION.” Marcos leaned against the counter, frowning as he studied her. She really had no idea who, or what, she was. He didn’t like the idea of being the one who told her, but he was out of options. She wouldn’t stay put long if he didn’t level with her. “That’s a nice theory, querida, but there’re a couple of problems with it.” She stopped pacing, turning to look at him curiously. “What?” “First, if ORION is Hardwire, why would they try to mug you to get the orb? They had to know they’d get it eventually and they already shelled out a lot of currency for it.” She shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t want to pay the rest of the money, or they were on a timetable, and didn’t like my stalling them. Who knows? There could be a million reasons.” He nodded. He’d give her that one, even if he was convinced otherwise. “Second, ORION didn’t kill Jacques Pellier.” That pulled her up short, her puzzled eyes growing wide. “What?” Marcos sucked in a deep breath, his chest weighted with lead. He didn’t want this job; he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. But he knew that the longer he waited, the worse her anger would be when she learned he concealed it from her.

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“Tori, come here,” he murmured, gesturing her toward him. He needed to hold her while he said this; he needed to know he could still shelter her, even as his words destroyed her. Dios ayudo, he didn’t want to do this! She gave him a strange look and he was sure she could read his anguish. His heart nearly broke when she still moved trustingly to stand before him, her expression expectant. He couldn’t help but smile at her firm stance and the “bring-it-on” courage with which she faced this, and every other, obstacle. That courage humbled him and made him feel even more wretched for what he had to do. He met her eyes as he heard her breath catch and saw her obsidian gaze soften. He hated himself for destroying her trust. “Carina,” he murmured, cupping his hand against the side of her neck, feeling her smooth skin and knowing it might be the last time he ever got the chance to touch her. “ORION didn’t kill Jake. You did.” Before his eyes, Tori’s face drained of all color and her eyes grew huge in denial. Marcos held his breath, waiting for the crash of the storm yet to come. She was in shock right now. But once shock gave way to anger, he would face the full rage of this woman before him, and he already knew it was going to be one hell of a storm.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I didn’t kill Jake.” Tori glared up at the man leaning against the woodworker’s cabinet as fury flashed through her. How dare he accuse her of murder; the very idea was preposterous! Especially Jake’s. She’d been hurrying to save her friend, not kill him. “The evidence doesn’t lie, querida.” Marcos’ brown eyes filled with regret and Tori ground her teeth against telling him that if he hated telling her this so much, he should have just kept his damned mouth shut. Evidence? Her mind latched onto the words he used and her eyes narrowed. “What evidence?” He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “The first place you came in contact with the orb was at the Bon Dauphin—” “Yeah. So?” “So, four people on the street below died.” Was he actually accusing her of killing four people she didn’t know in cold blood? Tori bristled with indignant rage. She hadn’t known anything about that, so why was he making it sound like she was a serial killer? “What’s that got to do with me?” “Everything,” he said quietly. “You opened the orb again while you were in Pellier’s apartment.” “So, you’re saying that the orb killed Jake?” He shook his head. “I’m not sure.” “How comforting.” She couldn’t quite disguise the sarcasm in her voice. “But you’re so sure I had something to do with it. Why?”

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He blew out his breath, rubbing the back of his neck again, clearly agitated. “I don’t know what to think, Tori. Both of the events were electrical in origin and both occurred within a short time after you and the orb had been in the vicinity, together.” Tori frowned as she considered his words and memory rushed over her. That buzzing noise in her ears that grew to a screech. The throbbing headaches. How she felt so energized, and then so wiped out… “Oh, God.” The words left her in an exhaled breath as the truth rushed over her and her legs trembled with grief. “Ohgodogodogod…” Warm arms closed around her and she found herself pressed up against Marcos’ solid, comforting body as he pressed gentle kisses to her hair and ear, murmuring half-formed endearments and consolations in Spanish. “It was me,” she choked out in a weak gasp, shock giving way to soul-shattering agony. Turning her face up, she met his pain-darkened eyes and knew he shared her anguish. She couldn’t bear that thought. Her eyes squeezed shut, she burrowed into the warmth of his chest, muttering, “How, Marcos? How did I do that? And how did you know?” Marcos’ chest heaved beneath her cheek before he quietly said, “There’s a very long story involved, there.” “We appear to have plenty of time.” The small, grim slash at his lips told her how upset he really was. He was actually trying to smile, for her sake. “When I was eight years old, one of my father’s rivals decided to send him a warning by spraying the car carrying my older brother, Miguel, and I home from a soccer match with bullets.” She paled as his words caught her unprepared, and she gasped, reeling. No wonder he didn’t smile! Her eyes misted. “Oh, my God. Marcos—” “Shh.” He stilled her condolence with a finger over her lips, shaking his head. “No tears, querida. It was a long time ago.” Tori closed her eyes, forcing back the stinging pressure, even as she felt twin tracks of moisture dampen her cheeks. “What happened?” His thumbs brushed over her face, drying away her tears. “Miguel was killed instantly, with one bullet in his heart, and another that severed his spinal cord at the base of his skull. I nearly died as well, when a bullet entered the back of my skull and lodged in my brain. The doctors in Columbia relieved the pressure, but feared that any operation they could perform would leave me with severe brain damage. A brain-damaged son was unacceptable to my father, so he sent me to the Center for Evolutionary Medicine, where he heard there was a new, experimental procedure for such things.

They implanted neuro-

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inhibitors prior to the procedure and removed the bullet. The damaged tissue was repaired by directly implanted nanobots.” She couldn’t stifle her gasp as shock radiated through her.

“That’s part of the protocol I

underwent, too!” He nodded. “Different programming in the nanobots, but the same procedure. However…” She looked up, saw his remote expression and his tensed jaw, and knew that the ‘but’, in this case, had impacted Marcos’ life far more than the original trauma had. “But?” He blinked, and his worried eyes met hers. “There were side effects no one ever anticipated.” Fear danced along her nerve endings. Side effects? “What kind of side effects?” Dark humor flashed in his eyes. “Nothing serious, at first. Or so we thought. Everyone laughed and joked that I was blessed, because everything I said would happen came true. But when I started having nightmares and every one of them came true, my parents started to worry. They took me back to CEM, where the doctors ran all sorts of tests and discovered that my surgery had left me with an extra sense. I could sense events, especially dangerous ones, before they happened.” He was talking about premonitions! Tori sucked in a breath as she recalled the IMs he sent her and the way he always seemed one step ahead of her whenever she wandered into trouble. It was because he was one step ahead of her. He sensed the danger coming. Strange, how knowing that made her feel safe, rather than violated. A slow, soft smile spread over her lips as she reached to brush her fingers over his cheek. “My guardian angel,” she whispered, unwilling to face the emotion that flared in his eyes, matching the fluttering in her chest. She sighed as she stepped into his embrace. “That explains how you knew, but not how I…do what I do. What’s happened to me, Marcos?” He hugged her close, his hands skimming her back, and she felt his hesitance in the stiffness of his posture. Whatever he had to say, he was fighting it even now. Finally, with a sigh, he murmured, “That’s more difficult.” “Tell me.” She closed her eyes, bracing for whatever was to come. “A year ago, I had a premonition about a coming threat; a communication from the Anaz-Voohri to a human, that would start a wave of destruction meant to eradicate life on Earth. Archer and I believed that premonition had occurred last December, when Maya Rembrandt, a computer scientist, caused a total power grid black-out on the Eastern seaboard of the US.” She wasn’t sure what this had to do with her, but Tori nodded, recalling the event itself. “I remember hearing about that. People were in a panic, and there were claims made that the scientist was an alien agent.”

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He nodded. “That’s what we believed, as well.” “You? As in Mythos, right?” “Sí.” “So, what happened?” “Archer sent one of our agents, Apollo, to find Senorita Rembrandt and determine if she was a threat. Apollo discovered records at a CEM installation that told us there were six other women, besides Maya Rembrandt, who were possible threats. One was more of a threat than any of the rest. An assassin, programmed to kill, either at will or command. I had a vision, a premonition, of the assassin scaling a building’s exterior, like a spider on a wall.” She pulled back enough to look at him. “I’m not the only thief in the world, you know.” He nodded, and she saw pain flash in his eyes as he lifted one hand to brush over her cheek. “I know. But the files mentioned an escaped experimental case, whom GSS believed was working as a second-story thief. There are fewer than twenty professional female second-story thieves in the world, and only a handful of those have had any nanotech enhancements made. All but one of those procedures were performed on adult subjects, and that one had a blank past.” “Me.” He nodded. “Archer asked me to keep an eye on you and find out if you were the assassin.” His eyes closed and he drew her tightly against him. She could feel his trembling, and it tore at her heart. “The aliens made their contact, not with Maya, but with their assassin; to set your programming in motion.” She winced at those words. They made her sound like a machine. “I never received any alien message.” His eyes opened, focusing on her as, in a quiet voice, he said one word that sent a chill racing through her. “Hardwire.” “My God,” she gasped in realization, feeling sick. “You’re right! I got my first e-mail from Hardwire in December. That means…” Her eyes widened as the truth plunged through her. An image of the orb flashed within her brain, accompanied by a strange, disembodied voice that droned monotonously in her head, relaying information she knew she never actually heard. Something this horrible, she was sure to remember. “Marcos, we have to get that orb back!” “No way in hell, querida,” he muttered, pulling her tight against him. “Every time you and that thing get near each other, someone dies.”

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“That’s just it.” She broke free of his grasp, pacing restlessly as she fought to contain the words droning on inside her brain. God, she was going to go crazy! “Don’t you see? I didn’t know what that orb was, or that I was feeding it. I’m not the destructive component; I’m just the energy source.” He was watching her cautiously. “How do you figure that?” She sighed. “The orb draws its energy from me. That’s why it only comes alive in my presence. Since I’m the energy source, I can control the flow and the blast intensity, too, as long as the orb is in my possession. But once it’s activated, the orb’s internal scanner has to detect the alien nanotech, combined with my DNA, every so often.” “Why? What happens if it doesn’t?” She swallowed hard against the terrible truth ringing in her head.

“It’s programmed to

autodestruct, like a thermonuclear device, should contact with the battery – me – be terminated for a long period of time.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “And you know all of this how?” She shrugged helplessly. “I can hear this voice, in my head. Like someone recorded an audio user’s manual in my brain. Only, I can’t access it at will; it’s like it’s been coded. It has to be triggered.” She watched the light of belief slowly bloom in his eyes. “And how long do we have?” “I’m not sure.” She frowned. “I just know I need to get to it soon. Marcos, I can’t stay here, away from the world. Hiding me isn’t helping anyone. I have to go back to the city. I need to be somewhere ORION can find me easily.” He was silent, his expression pensive, for so long she was afraid he’d deny her. Then he met her eyes and a slow smile, full of a devilish charm she never saw in Marcos before, spread over his face, stalling her breath as he murmured, “I may have a better solution.”

Four hours later, Tori finished constructing a special, shielded pouch. She and Marcos were airborne in less than twenty minutes, with Marcos at the controls of his private air transport while Tori monitored the hand-held tracker he handed her shortly before lift-off. “Tell me again how this thing works,” she demanded, shooting him a wry grin. “You just said ‘watch this’ back at the airstrip. What does this thing track?” “Electromagnetic signatures,” he responded shortly. “Electromagnetic signatures. You mean…like ghosts?” He nodded briskly. electromagnetic energy.”

“Sí.

Normal people, and animals, radiate a minimal amount of

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“The soul factor of parapsychology,” Tori said with an understanding nod. She shrugged at his surprised glance. “I saw a network special on it, once. They used to use tri-field meters to track ghosts in haunted houses by their electromagnetic signatures.” “Same principle applies here,” Marcos said easily, and she saw him visibly relax. Obviously, he was unsure how open to the paranormal she was. Tori grinned. Only a stupid thief didn’t admit there were things out there that couldn’t be seen. “The shifting, muted gray on the screen represents the general populace,” Marcos explained. “Occasional blips of lighter gray or white are people with supposedly ‘psychic’ abilities. In other words, those who have learned to channel their energy into a concentrated flow.” She frowned. “I get all of that. But how can this thing track the orb? Or me?” He chuckled. “You said it yourself, Tori; you’re a walking generator. On that tracker, you’re a beacon. Look at the center of the screen. See that bright white ball of light, bigger than any of the rest?” She nodded. He reached to squeeze her knee. “That’s you, tierna.” A tingle of heat ran through Tori at the contact, but she shoved it aside. “And the orb?” “The orb’s an inanimate object—” “I’ll debate that one,” she broke in wryly. He shot her a warning look. “It’s not alive, but it stores and runs off of electromagnetic energy.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to follow his logic. “So, I’m looking for another bright splash like the one in the center, which is me?” “No.” He squeezed her knee again, and then returned his hand to the controls, to make a course adjustment. “By itself, the orb doesn’t even register. Tracking its location was so impossible for me that I started tracking you instead. As we get closer to the orb, that screen will turn into a giant nightlight. That’s how I found you in Harlem, you know.” She offered him a small smile, even as the pain of loss punched her at the thought of Pearl and Jazz, who also died because of her. “I wondered how you found me that day.” His hand covered hers, squeezing gently, and his voice grew husky as he promised, “I’ll always find you. No matter what it takes.” Tori blinked hard against tears as her heart pounded in her chest. Marcos had changed since she ran away from him after stealing the penthouse key. He’d been changing, anyway, but more slowly. Then, after that day, there was suddenly something different about him. He was so tender, so…so much more than she knew how to deal with. She cleared her throat, glancing out the window at the ground far below. “Where are we going?” “Aspen.”

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Her heart tripped. “We’re going after the Screamer?” He nodded. “The Screamer first, and then your friend. I have a feeling Senor Craine may know where to find Electra Monroe.” She sucked in a breath, her eyes on him as a chill spread through her. If Craine knew where Electra was, this was getting more dangerous by the moment. “Is this just guesswork?” He remained silent, his expression grim as he focused intently on his task as pilot. “Marcos?” Finally, he sighed heavily, and his gaze flickered to hers. “No, querida, it’s not just guesswork.” Those words poured frightened adrenaline through her system, jumpstarting her heart into overdrive. God. Ever since Marcos had told her about his premonitions, earlier, she wondered what he knew. She wondered why he was so opposed to this trip. “Okay. Tell me.” He cast her a blankly questioning glance. “Perdoné?” “Oh, no, you don’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest, scowling at him. “I speak almost as much Spanish as you do, Marcos Devante. I don’t care if you do it in English or Spanish, but you’re going to tell me whatever it is you’re keeping from me, amigo.”

Marcos blinked, and then glared into Tori’s anger-darkened eyes. Friend? Damn it, they were a hell of a lot more than friends! And then, that undercurrent glint in her eyes registered, and he realized that she made that comment deliberately. She was warning him to play it straight with her, or risk losing her. His heart clenched. There was no way he could ever let himself lose her. “I’m afraid this is all a trap, carina. The feeling has been growing steadily since you first mentioned Craine.” “Which feeling – about Craine, or Electra?” “Both. I’ve got a feeling that nothing about this whole mess is as it appears, querida. Please,” his voice dropped as his grip on the controls tightened and he fought his fear of losing her. “Be careful.”

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CHAPTER TWENTY

Tori puffed out her breath, watching with a grin as it misted on the air. It was the middle of May and she was in a city that still had snow on the ground – largely the result of the climate-control bubble that surrounded the thriving ski town and its environs, keeping temperatures right about freezing threehundred, sixty-five days out of the year. Her grin turned wry as she shivered in her flannel shirt. Welcome to Aspen. “Cold?” The gentle query flowed over her, even as Marcos’ arms slipped around her, pulling her against his body for warmth. She smiled, snuggling into the comfort of…down? She frowned, her gaze dropping, to find that Marcos had slipped a down-filled ski jacket over her shoulders in that embrace. Annoyance flashed through her, washing away any lingering hint of contentment. “Damn it, Devante; next time, just hand me the freaking coat,” she snapped crossly as she jammed her arms into the sleeves. She’d thought… “That wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable.” His husky words danced along her skin, and her body throbbed with heat even before she felt his hands grasping her hips as he leaned in to plant a nibbling row of kisses over the length of her neck. Tori gasped, arching her head to allow him greater access, as sensations whirled and dived inside of her. “Marcos,” she moaned softly, leaning back into him as his arms came around her again. “How soon can we get out of all these clothes?” He chuckled against her ear, before turning her to face him. “Patience, carina. First, we unload your gear and find lodging, and then—” “Holy shit!” She stared past him, her eyes widening as surprise jolted through her. The cockpit of the transport looked like the frigging Fourth of July! She frowned. Why hadn’t she felt it? “Marcos, the scanner. The orb is here!”

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“Sí.” His voice dropped to a quiet murmur. “And so, I’m afraid, is ORION.” She glanced at his face, her brow furrowing at the darkness of his expression. He was still facing away from the plane. How could he know? Then she remembered. “A premonition?” “A fact, carina.” His jaw was tight, and his hands bit into her even through the heavy coat as those words clipped out. “Whatever you do, don’t turn around.” Great. Just what they needed. ORION, the orb, and Craine, all in the same place. And any one of them could kill both her and Marcos. But if they could get to Craine first and get the Screamer back, they’d have a chance against the nanotechnology enhanced ORION agents. What they needed, she decided, was to blend in. As her eyes slid over Marcos’ sweater and jeans, beneath the heavy leather jacket he wore, the memory of their first kiss in that seedy hotel on 49th flashed through her mind, and a smile bloomed on her lips. She knew exactly how to get ORION off their tail and blend into the populace of the Summer Break ski crowd. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around Marcos’ neck and pulled his head down, fusing their lips in a kiss that crackled through Tori like a thousand volts of electricity.

Dios, this woman was going to be the death of him! Marcos groaned, his hands sliding to her rear and dragging her closer as their kiss exploded. He could taste the fire in her kiss, the electric awareness that jolted through him, raising the hair all over his body— “Tori, no,” he gasped, yanking himself free from her drugging kiss. Dios, she had no idea what she was doing. “Why the hell not?” She sounded hurt, and her glare was pure bravado. “Querida,” he murmured soothingly, even as he met her eyes with a firm gaze. “I want to make love to you so bad it’s killing me. But, as long as the orb’s around, unshielded, anyone who gets near you is asking to end up dead.” She froze completely, her eyes wide, before the cold hardness he hated slid through the dark eyes he loved so much. “So, what? You’re leaving me here to find Craine alone, now?” “Dios, no!” He grasped her arms, his eyes boring into hers, silently demanding her attention. “I promised to help you and to stick by you. You can’t shake me, tierna. But,” he sucked in a breath, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he had to tell her any more than he did. “We can’t touch each other any more than is necessary, until we’ve secured the orb into that special pouch you made.” She was silent for so long, her eyes averted, that he was afraid she wasn’t going to answer at all. Finally, she cleared her throat. “You mean no sex, or even kissing, don’t you?”

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A small, wry smile twisted up one corner of his mouth. It wasn’t even going to be that easy. “I mean separate beds, opposite sleeping areas. For however long it takes to get the orb back.” Tori wasn’t paying attention to him, he could tell by her absent nod, her gaze fixed on the hanger entrance as a frown crossed her face. Then, her face blanched and a grim smile inched over her face as she surged past him, heading for the transport. “Tori! Where are you going?” “To get that scanner,” she threw over her shoulder. “We’ve got work to do!”

An hour later, they were standing in the shadow of a clump of snow-laden pines, watching the lit window of a ski lodge cabin. “That makes four,” Marcos informed his companion in a concerned murmur. “Are you sure you really want to do this, querida?” She shot him a disbelieving grimace. “Considering the alternatives, you really have to ask?” He stiffened, frowning, at her innuendo. As badly as he wanted her, he loved her too much to put her life at risk for the chance to hold her again. It irritated and pained him that she clearly didn’t feel the same. “Is sex all you can think about?” He snapped, his irritation overriding even his common sense, which told him that this was neither the time nor the place for an argument. “Actually,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with an emotion he couldn’t pin down, “I was thinking about the thousands of people who’re going to die in a few hours if I don’t get that orb back.” His anger drained away, replaced by a sick clenching in his gut. “What do you mean?” She met his gaze, then, and the fear in her dark eyes punched him hard in the chest. What horror had the power to terrify this fearless woman? “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but,” she drew a deep breath, and her fingers went to the tiger pendant around her neck in an action he was coming to recognize as a search for courage. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this freaked in my life; not even when I first found that stupid orb. But, back at the airfield…” She shuddered, and Marcos barely resisted the urge to cross himself as her fear washed through him, as well. Only, he still wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. Was it the orb, or something else? “What’s wrong, querida?” Her eyes skipped away, and she swallowed hard, before she closed them completely. “Marcos, back there at the airfield is the first time since I found that damned orb that I haven’t been able to feel it buzzing in my head, on some level. And that energy surge; I don’t think it had anything to do with us

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kissing. I think the orb was drawing one last charge. I’ve felt totally wiped out, since then.” Her eyes opened then, full of a dread he was sure no other human being on the face of the Earth would ever understand. “I think it’s getting ready to blow.” As her eyes dropped again, a wave of illness washed through Marcos. Why hadn’t he paid closer attention? He saw her distraction, back at the hanger, and he noticed that she was quiet and subdued during their hunt. In Tori, those traits were a sure-fire sign that something was wrong. He assumed she was just angry about the no sex rule. Tori was a passionate woman, and insatiable. While he supposed he shouldn’t complain that she so clearly wanted him, her unwillingness to view their relationship in any terms but sex irked him. But knowing that Tori’s silence had been a product of weariness, not anger, and that she hid it from him so easily, bothered Marcos even more. That orb was sucking the life from her, and he hadn’t even known. She was right; they had to find it, and quickly. For her sake, if no one else’s. “All right,” he acknowledged quietly. “Tell me what you need. What’s the plan?” Her eyes widened. “Not going to take charge, Devante?” There was a subtle note of teasing beneath the sarcasm, and Marcos couldn’t resist a small, wry smile. She deserved that dig, after all. He knew as well as anyone that he could be overbearing when he latched onto something. Bullheadedness was a quality they shared in abundance. Now, he let the smile play over his face as he shook his head in response. “You’re the expert, querida.” Just like that, her eyes softened, and Marcos felt his gut clench in sudden, sharp need at the grateful vulnerability that engulfed her face. Then, her gaze turned back to the cabin and hardened with determination. “It’s not going to be easy, getting in there. We know there are at least four agents and that cabin probably isn’t the only one around here full of ORION people, so…” Ice trickled along Marcos’ spine at the grim smile inching across Tori’s face. “Tori, what are you planning?” She shot him a brief, enraged glance. “ORION tried to turn me into a killer, Marcos. I’d say it’s about time they got a taste of their creation.” “Tori, don’t—” The sizzle of energy on the air silenced him. He watched in horror as Tori’s eyes grew bright and a crackle of static lightning raced along her frame like an aura. He never saw her deliberately feed energy before and the static in the air reached out to set his blood tingling with the buzz. Madre de Dios. She was really going to do it; she was going to willfully kill those men, in cold blood. Everything that Marcos was sickened at the thought, and he turned and strode away, unwilling to watch the woman he loved kill. Maldito sea! He didn’t want to know what he already knew; he didn’t

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want to know that it was in her blood. Everything he was told him that Tori couldn’t kill. But she was about to prove him wrong and he couldn’t stand it. There was a faint rumble, like distant thunder, and a loud hiss, followed by the sound of yelled curses, and Marcos whipped around just in time to see a smoldering hunk of glowing metal come flying out an open window. It landed, steaming, in the snow and forged a hissing path as it rolled down the incline until it came to rest at the toe of Tori’s hiking boot. Her gaze remained on the cabin as a smug grin flashed across her face. She never looked cockier, or more beautiful. Marcos blinked as his gaze traveled between the woman and the cabin. The building was still standing and he heard raised voices, telling him that, while the occupants had probably suffered some injury, no one was dead. His eyes turned back to Tori as she crouched to scoop the now-dormant sphere into the specially-made pouch, pride and love swelling in his chest. He was right; Tori wasn’t a killer. “There they are!” This shout, much closer, sent a shaft of dread plunging through Marcos. A swift look confirmed his fear. They’d been discovered! “C’mon!” Tori bounded past him, gesturing urgently. “This place is going to be swarming with ORION agents soon!” Marcos followed Tori at a jog, catching up with her in a few strides. His long legs closed the space between them by the time they reached a larger stand of trees heading into the forest. As he reached her, Marcos grabbed her arm, hauling her around. “What did you think you were doing back there?” She grinned. “I knew what I was doing. I fed the orb a little energy.” “You what?” He released her, aghast. “Why?” She rolled her eyes, and Marcos clenched his jaw against a wave of irritation. Damn it, Tori’s little wild-child impulses were going to get her killed! “Would you chill out?” Tori snapped as she shook off his grasp. “I know what I’m doing.” He gritted his teeth against a howl of rage, settling for spearing his hands through his hair in agitation. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Didn’t this woman have even a microscopic sense of self-preservation? “Tori, you may very well know a lot of things, but I doubt that includes subconsciously controlled alien technology. How do you know you only fed it enough energy to cause a little smoke?” She glared up at him, clearly pissed. “I just—” A loud explosion cut off the rest of her words, and Tori dropped to the ground with a cry of pain, clutching her head. “Noooo!” “Tori!” Marcos fell to his knees by her side, pulling her into his arms in an attempt to shield her from the sight of flames crackling in the distance. Maldito sea! He knew this whole search was a bad

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call; they should have stayed as far from ORION as they could. He closed his eyes and mouthed a brief prayer for the men who died in that blast. It was only small comfort that they likely were the ones who hurt and terrorized Tori. Opening his eyes again, he looked down at the shaking woman in his arms and knew she was paying a greater price for her vengeance than any human would ever know. He couldn’t bear watching her suffer. Marcos’ eyes squeezed shut as he rocked her gently, praying her pain would pass quickly. Her agony ripped at him and he swore if he ever got his hands on the aliens who did this to her, he’d kill them all. Damn it, Tori endured enough without this! A small gasp from the woman in question snapped his eyes open, to see horror and heartbreak in Tori’s obsidian gaze. “Oh my God,” she murmured, her face ashen, and pain clenched in Marcos. She knew. His best effort to shield her hadn’t been enough. Her gaze was fixed beyond him, and he knew she could see the devastation her alien power created, as her eyes came back to his, full of grim resignation. “Kill me, Marcos. Please.” “No.” Her hands fisted in his jacket, and he felt her trembling with contained disgust. “I already killed three of my friends, and four innocent people, that we know of. Damn it, I don’t want to hurt anyone else! Kill me!” “No,” he repeated in a whisper. He couldn’t kill her. A wave of illness passed over him at just the thought. She had no idea the future she’d sentence him to, if he did what she asked. “Marcos,” her voice was a raspy, horrified sound that tore at his heart. “As long as I’m alive, I’m a threat. Your friend was right.” “Goddammit, no!” He grasped her arms, giving her a swift shake. “We have the orb back, now, querida. We have its destructive capacity under control. You are not going to die – not by my hand, or anyone else’s.” He saw the flash of fear in her eyes and forced himself to draw even, calming breaths. Not an easy thing to do, when his soul was so raw it was bleeding. Stroking her cheek gently, he whispered, “Where’s the courageous woman who wanted to take on all of ORION to get her friend back? Would you abandon Electra so easily?” Would you abandon me? He didn’t say the words, but the flare of light in her eyes told him she heard them just the same. “Marcos,” she murmured, burrowing into his embrace. “I feel so dead inside, right now. Please, make me feel alive.” Aware of the distant sound of voices and men thrashing through the underbrush in pursuit, Marcos knew they had to get out of Aspen, fast. But he couldn’t deny Tori; not with that bleak look in her eyes.

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Scooping her into his arms, he gave her a long, lingering kiss, and made a deal that was sure to seal his fate. “If you keep up with me and give up on that death wish, you can have anything you want, carina.” A spark of the old Tori returned to her eyes, and he felt his heart lighten at that glimmer of mischief. “Anything?” Dios, he wanted this woman! Not just for a night, or a week, or even a year. He wanted to keep her by his side forever. His heart clenched painfully as he realized he wanted the impossible. He wanted her to love him. “Anything,” he promised huskily, brushing another light kiss over her lips, when what he wanted was to lay claim to her and show her how much he ached for her. That promise, it appeared, was all it took to return bold, brash Tori to her cocky, wild-child self. With a wicked grin, she slithered free of his grasp. “Then let’s go!” And with that, she was racing across the field toward the ski lodge, laughing. Marcos followed her, his heart twisting as he wondered what she’d demand of him. He already knew she’d never take what he was offering freely.

They stumbled across the threshold of their suite, mouths locked and hands grasping desperately at the fastenings of each other’s clothes. Even before the door finished closing, Marcos had Tori backed up against the wall, his hands palming her breasts in a familiar way that drove her wild. But she didn’t want this; not this way. Not tonight. Pulling free of his drugging kiss, she offered him a wink and a grin. “I remember something about a deal, Devante. I beat your ass here and I don’t have any plans for dying soon, so I guess that means I kept my end of the bargain.” Resignation flashed in his eyes and he backed away with a sigh. “All right, carina. What do you want?” She stepped away from the wall, strutting up to him in a sultry stroll that caused his eyes to flare with hunger. When barely a breath separated them, she finally stopped, lifting her head and letting him see the heat in her eyes. “I want control, Devante. Complete. Total. Control.” The lust burned higher in his olive gaze, threaded with something that made Tori’s heart trip and her body sizzle with hot need. A slow, sexy smile slid over his lips, and he reached to skim his fingers over her cheek. “What makes you think you haven’t had that all along?”

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Tori’s breath caught and her eyes widened. Was he actually saying what she thought he was? Her arousal spiked at the mere thought of ultra-controlled Marcos Devante giving up that control for her, to her. Reaching out, she slid her hands beneath his sweater, pushing the material up as her fingers roamed over the smooth, muscular wall of his chest. She leaned forward, hearing his sharp intake of air as she planted her lips against the flesh she exposed, his muscles flexing beneath her lips. “Tori…” “Shh.” She offered him a warm smile as she laid one hand against his lips, stilling him. When he finally subsided, she reached to pull the sweater up over his head, tossing it aside. “God, you must spend days in the gym,” she murmured appreciatively, even as she smoothed her fingers over the sculpted flesh of his abdomen and chest. His chuckle, deep and husky, shot through her like an electrical current, and dampness flooded her lower body. “Hard work is better than any gym, carina. I built the house in Vermont, just Ricardo and I.” She slanted him a hot glance as she leaned in to trace her tongue around one flat, hard nipple, causing him to choke off a groan. “Do you want to talk, or fuck, Devante?” Tori caught the slight tensing of his shoulders and realized her gaff. She sighed. Marcos and his Hispanic romanticism. Sliding her hands down as she swirled her tongue over his chest, tasting warm, spicy flesh, she unfastened his jeans, dipping her hands inside to stroke the hot, hard length of him. It no longer surprised her that he wore no underwear; he was a closet bad-boy, and she was looking forward to releasing all that power and passion he kept locked up so tight. Gently, she cupped him, gliding her fingers over him and feeling the soft skin move over steel-hard heat. His erection jerked against her hand as she squeezed lightly, and a low groan was torn from him. “Tori.” Her name left him in a whisper, his blazing eyes meeting and holding her gaze captive. “I want to touch you, tierna.” She wanted it, too; but the stark need on his face was an aphrodisiac she never imagined tasting. Sexual power. She wanted to savor the high and prolong the pleasure for both of them. So, releasing him, she backed off. “Lose the jeans.” Tori was surprised at the huskiness of her own voice as she boldly perused him. She’d seen him stark naked before, but not like this. Not when she had the control. A brief grin slashed across his face, making her knees tremble as she saw the indentation of a dimple – a dimple, for God’s sake! – in his right cheek. Her breath backed up in her lungs, and she

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missed the show of him removing those worn, tight jeans, her gaze glued on the erotic sight of his grin. Who’d have ever thought a man’s smile could be his sexiest asset? “You’re overdressed, carina.” His voice was gruff as he handed her back her words from the very first time they ever had sex. Tori’s heart stalled as she realized he remembered that. “Let me help you.” Her eyes moved over him, and she shook her head as a wicked idea formed. She’d always wanted a captive audience… “Lay down on the bed,” she instructed in a purring murmur. His eyes narrowed, but he did as she said, laying propped against the headboard, watching her. Perfect. With a mischievous grin, Tori began slowly peeling off her flannel shirt and jeans. The hiss of desire from Marcos and the raw lust in his olive-brown eyes brought out every bad-girl instinct she’d ever had, and she moved in provocative inches. Eyes closed, she felt every brush of fabric against flesh, and the electric tingling across her skin grew. Dropping her shirt, she cupped her breasts, still covered by the deep blue, lacy demi-bra, and heard him mutter an oath in Spanish. “Tori, tierna…” “Mmm?” She kneaded her breasts, through the bra, lifting the smooth globes until she felt air against her nipples, and knew he could see how dark and erect they were. “You’re killing me.” She opened eyes heavy-lidded with arousal and saw the desperation in Marcos’ tense features. That look jolted through her body and she gasped. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to feel him inside her. Reaching back, she unfastened her bra, and slid it and the matching thong off. Stalking to the bed, she swung herself over his body and sank his hard flesh into her body to the hilt, shuddering in satisfaction.

Marcos groaned, his hands kneading Tori’s hips as her slick heat gloved him. She felt as if she was made for him alone. Dios, he’d never tire of the feel of her, or the passion in those small, breathless gasps she loosed as she rode him, her body drawing and releasing around his. Then suddenly, she froze, and a different kind of gasp left her. “Marcos,” she breathed, her voice tinged with wariness. “Baby, you’re glowing.” Confused, he opened his eyes, and saw the blue light reflected in her dark eyes. A groan that had nothing to do with Tori’s heat astride him left his mouth. “Ese no pienso,” he muttered, annoyance rushing through him. Archer’s timing stank. “Tori, querida, in my jacket…”

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She sighed and rolled her eyes, but leaned back and over to retrieve the item, her sinuous body bending in a way that tightened her around him, and he groaned as his erection swelled even fuller inside her. “Mm… Interesting,” she murmured, a playful gleam entering her eyes as she lifted and settled her hips, twisting back around. Marcos sucked in a sharp breath, fighting for control. “Tor—” She sighed. “I know, I know.” His leather jacket landed on his chest, and Marcos gritted his teeth in frustration as he dug out the special phone he used to communicate with Archer. Damn it, he wished he was a little more like some of the other Mythos agents at times – a little less bound up in duty and honor. “Devante,” he snapped into the phone as he activated it. “Minos?” Archer’s voice snapped with impatience. “Sí. I heard you.” “Where is Tori Blair? She isn’t dead, is she?” Marcos sighed. It was time to come clean with the truth, and the heaviness in his chest was proof of why lies never paid. “No. She isn’t dead.” A wicked grin spread over Tori’s face, telling him she knew exactly who he was talking to, and what about. Her eyes sparkling with mischief, she rocked her hips against him, bringing an involuntary hiss of need to his lips. There was a muttered oath from the other end of the line. “Do you have any idea where she is? You need to bring her in. Now.” Marcos choked back a sound that was half laugh, half groan, as he imagined telling his friend and superior that the genetically altered assassin they deemed such a threat six months ago was currently sitting astride him, with his sex buried to the hilt in hers. Not in this lifetime was he going to breathe a word about that. “I’ve got it under control.” Tori’s brow rose at that, and she shot him one of those impish little grins that turned his heart over and twisted his gut. She bent to run her tongue over his throat, her hard nipples brushing his chest and her hips shifting against him in a surge that nearly brought him up off the bed, his eyes rolling back. Dios… “Damn it, Marcos! This kind of attitude I’d expect from Kent; but not from you. What the hell do you think you’re doing? You don’t understand what’s happening—”

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Surrendering his soul to an angel with the devil’s own eyes. But he wasn’t about to admit that out loud. “Tracking down the Screamer. Tori thinks it may be one of the keys to being able to fight the Anaz-Voohri.” There was a heavy sigh from the other end. “Marcos, she’s killed three times—” “Four. But she’s learning control.” Of him, as much as of her programming. “Which makes her even more dangerous right now. You need to get her to Mythos.” She’s the woman I love. Marcos looked up, met Tori’s dark, tender eyes, and saw mischief there. Uh-oh. Leaning forward again, she plucked the phone from Marcos’ hand before he could react and sat back, sinking him deeper into her tight, hot core as she lifted the unit to her ear. “Mr. Devante is in a very sensitive meeting, right now.” “Tori!” Marcos reached for the phone, appalled. Archer was sure to know… And, by the look in Tori’s eyes, that was exactly what she intended. Pressing the power button on the unit, she bundled it up in his jacket and tossed both aside. “Now. Where were we?” She grinned suggestively as she lifted her hips and dropped against him, driving him into her slick core. A small gasp shuddered through her, and he felt it quiver along his flesh. “Oh, yeah.” Marcos groaned, but laid his hands on her thighs, stilling her as he murmured, “You shouldn’t have done that, querida.” “Shh.” She pressed a finger to his mouth, and Marcos couldn’t resist drawing it in, laving that single, sweet digit until she gasped, and he felt the tight quiver of her body, again. Then, she was lifting his hands, placing them against the warmth of her breasts in silent plea. Nothing did, except the tender, enraptured look in Tori’s eyes as she rode him. He molded his hands over her beautiful breasts, rolling her nipples with his thumbs as he lost himself in the steady rise and fall of her along his erection. The world, be damned. His heart told him Tori wasn’t a killer, and that was enough for him.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Marcos awoke with a start, that clawing sensation at the base of his skull more painful than ever before. Someone was coming! “Tori.” He shook the woman asleep in his arms lightly. “Come on, tierna. Wake up.” She stirred and blinked awake, her eyes wide and luminous in the dark room. She looked beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and love her. But now wasn’t the time. “What is it?” She asked in a sleep-softened voice. His gut roiling with fear, Marcos rose swiftly from the bed and reached for their clothes, tossing Tori hers. “We have to get out of here. Someone’s coming.” She sucked in a sharp breath, leaping from the bed and scrambling into the clothes he’d tossed her way. “ORION!” “I don’t know,” he admitted tensely as he pulled on his own clothing. “But I’m not about to take that chance.” Tori didn’t question his instructions, gracias a Dios. She took his premonitions even more seriously than he did, which never ceased to amaze him. Pulling his sweater over his head, he turned to find Tori at his side, a concerned frown on her face. “We should go after the Screamer now, Marcos,” she said, her eyes grim. “These ORION guys are crammed full of nanotech. We could disable the lot of them in one blast.” “No.” Marcos shook his head. “I won’t put it to use under field conditions until it’s been properly tested.” “Right. Forget the fact that these guys want to kill us,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “That ethic of yours is going to get us both killed, someday.” He tensed, stung by her lack of understanding. After what he told her about Miguel, how could she still believe he’d abandon his principles?

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“We don’t have time to argue.” The words clipped out in anger. As her mouth opened to protest, he held up his hand. “We both agree that it’s time to find the Screamer. The rest, we’ll just have to agree to disagree on, querida.” She subsided, muttering something beneath her breath that he wasn’t sure he wanted clarified. Instead, he opened the door and stuck his head into the hallway. The lights were off. That shouldn’t be. Then, he saw them; two shadowy figures, sporting weapons. His lungs froze, and he forgot to breathe as dread rushed over him. Jerking back into the suite before he took a chance of being seen, Marcos grabbed Tori’s hand and hauled her over to one of the wide windows. He glanced out at the moonlit, snowy field, and nodded in satisfaction. No one. Not even any footprints marring the pristine snow. He flipped the lock on the window and opened it as he gestured for Tori. “Go.” She froze, staring at him, and he read disbelief in her eyes. “Are you crazy?” “You’ve got your SCIDS boots on, and the gloves are in one of your coat pockets, along with the rest of your gear. You’ll be fine.” Urgency clenched in him. He had to get her out of here, fast! Tori, however, wouldn’t budge. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Great. Peachy. And what about you?” Marcos’ heart stalled. Santo Cristo, was she actually saying she cared what happened to him? He gave himself an internal shake. Now wasn’t the time. “I’ll be fine, Tori,” he told her quietly. “It’s you they’re after.” “Really? So I was hearing things, yesterday, when someone shouted ‘there they are’?” Marcos shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. Maldito sea! Tori could drive him insane with her stubborn streak! “If you don’t get out of here this minute,” he grated out through clenched teeth, “I will personally toss you out this window.” She stared at him, clearly stunned, and then laughed. “And we’re three stories up! You’ve never threatened me like that before, Marcos.” “Tori…” She smiled, her hand reaching into one pocket of her coat and re-emerging with her SCIDS gloves. “All right, Devante, I’m going.” She slipped the gloves on and moved to the window. There she stopped and turned back toward him. Reaching up, she urged his head down, and gave him a soft kiss that melted away all of Marcos’ anger. Then she drew away and he saw the somber light in her eyes as she murmured, “Don’t you dare die on me, Marcos Devante. I’ll never forgive you.”

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He stared after her, slack-jawed, heart pounding hard in hope, as Tori threw him a wink and a smile, and slipped out the window, into the night.

Tori slipped through the trees, silent as a ghost, and steeled herself against feeling her breaking heart. God, she thought leaving Pearl and Jazz at the mercy of ORION had been hard. Every step she took away from the lodge, she had to force herself to not look back and not search for Marcos’ shadow against the moonlight. If he died because of her, she’d never forgive herself. She’d already killed too many people she loved. Tori stopped dead, sucking in a harsh breath of freezing air and feeling her lungs burn. Oh, God. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Tori Blair didn’t do the love thing; she wasn’t even sure she knew what it was. But it was there, bubbling up within her soul, sending warmth rushing through her in spite of the artificial chill that surrounded Aspen. She loved Marcos. Really, truly loved him. Tori groaned in disbelief. No way was this a good thing. Marcos wasn’t the kind of man a woman like her fell for. And she definitely wasn’t anywhere on his list of potential mates. She heard about Elena, straight from Marcos, and knew he liked cultured, refined ladies. From his brother, she learned that Marcos had a thing for damsels in distress; he liked to play the white knight. He definitely played by the rules. Hell, her little stunt with his boss had shocked Marcos and worried him. Speaking of worried… Tori glanced over her shoulder and her blood congealed. Still no Marcos. “Please be all right,” she whispered, her eyes closed against the tears that threatened. “Please.” She stumbled against something soft but solid, like a body blocking her path. Instantly, Tori lashed out and strong hands grasped her wrists, halting her blows, as a deep chuckle radiated through her blood. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, querida.” “Marcos!” As he released her, Tori flung herself into his embrace, clinging hard to him as relief poured through her. He made a small humming noise in his throat. “What’s all this?” She couldn’t tell him; she couldn’t explain the fear, or the feelings that had prompted it. Then, as the realization that he stepped in front of her registered, she pulled back to regard him warily. “How…?” “No time for explanations,” he cautioned as he grasped her hand and urged her to follow him. “We need to get out of here, before—” A beam of laser cannon fire cut through the air above them, showering sparks as it seared off the top of the spruce tree next to them.

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“Look out!” Marcos dove for her and they both slid over the embankment as the severed bough came crashing down. Shock delayed Tori’s reaction time as they tumbled, unchecked, down the incline. Then, in a flash, she remembered the SCIDS. Her hand clenched in a fist, her fingers activating the unit. Tiny, titatone jaws shot out of her gloves and boots, and her hands and feet clamped to the solid stone beneath the snow, bringing her to a jarring halt that rattled her teeth. A glance to her right confirmed Marcos had managed to catch himself on an outcropping of rock a few feet below. “Christ,” Tori gasped when she finally caught her breath, wincing at the flare of pain in her shoulders. “What the hell did you do, Devante?” He shot her a sharp look. “They know more than they should. I’m not sure how, but ORION knows who I am.” “You mean, as a member of Mythos?” Fear clenched in Tori. If someone had sold Mythos out, then Marcos’ life was in more danger than her own. At least ORION wanted her alive. They’d kill Marcos on the spot. “No,” he managed through gritted teeth as he pulled himself painstakingly up the incline toward her. “Gracias a Dios. But I heard them talking about the Screamer and I heard my name. Only way they’d know either of those things was if they’re looking for me.” She shot a wary glance up the ravine. “And the laser?” A dark smile twitched at his lips, and her heart gave a little stutter. “Apparently, they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer any better than you do, querida.” “Very funny, Devante.” She spared him a mock scowl. “Now, how about doing something useful, like seeing how far down we have to slide to hit the bottom of this canyon?” He flashed her a grin that stopped her heart. God, she loved him. “Now who’s being bossy?” Then, with a wink that set Tori’s body humming with desire, Marcos eased his way down the inclined ledge, calling back up, “It looks like about an eight or ten foot drop. I think we hit the shallow end of the canyon.” “Can you make the jump?” “Easily.” “Great. Go ahead.” She tapped her left hand closed in a series of signals to indicate a descent. She felt the nanoclamps rotating slowly toward her fingers, pushing her steadily downward. “Get your butt down here, Blair.” She scowled over her shoulder at Marcos. “I thought I told you to jump.” “Not without you, querida.”

Esther Mitchell She shook her head in exasperation.

156 “That white knight routine’s going to get you killed,

Devante.” She came to a stop beside him and met his glare with an apologetic smile. “Truth hurt?” He didn’t answer her as he slipped over the edge to drop down into the canyon. With a sigh and an exasperated shake of her head, Tori started inching down again. She was halfway down the wall when she felt Marcos’ strong hands at her waist. “I’ve got you. Deactivate the SCIDS.” She ignored him, even though the feel of his hands sent hot currents flowing through her. “Damn it, Tori, we don’t have time for this.” Her feet touched the ground and she deactivated the unit, turning to face him. “I’m a big girl, Devante, and—” There was a rumble, like something huge on the move, and a burst of laser fire exploded off the canyon wall just over their heads. “Let’s go!” She didn’t need his urging to move. She heard the pounding of Marcos’ feet behind her as they dashed along the canyon floor and hoped the deepening trench would eventually shelter them from that damned vehicle-mounted laser above them. Tension crawling along her scalp, Tori knew they needed a miracle.

An hour later, they were still pushing hard to get away, the pulse of cannon fire hot on their heels, and Marcos faced the bitter truth. They weren’t going to make it. As the sizzle of laser fire from the canyon wall above them passed over their heads, Marcos glanced back with a scowl, even as he urged Tori to keep moving. They had ORION agents on their tail nonstop since Aspen. Didn’t these jalones ever give up? At least Tori was holding up okay. His gaze swung back to her in concern as she ducked through the trees ahead of him. She already went through hell yesterday and she’d been exhausted since they left Aspen, without a chance to rest. She was emotionally and physically spent, but determined. Her courage awed him. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, shelter her, and tell her how very proud he was of her. She saw her alien abilities in action with her own eyes at that ski lodge and he knew she remembered the explosions from Paris and Harlem, as she watched that cabin go up. She had to be reeling inwardly, though her closed, set expression no longer showed any sign of turmoil.

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“We’re not going to make it,” she voiced his apprehension out loud, her breath panting out as she stumbled, her strength finally giving out. Marcos was there in a flash, his sturdy support keeping her upright as he pressed her against his chest, and his heart. “They’ve got all the firepower, Devante.” He wasn’t about to let her give up that easily. They’d come this far. A grim smile inched across his lips. “We’ve got you, querida.” Pain flashed across her eyes and Marcos was sorry he ever opened his mouth. She didn’t want to be reminded of what she could do, that she could kill with little more than a thought. “I don’t have a damned clue how to control this…whatever it is!” She snapped. “I could just as easily kill us!” He glanced at the special pouch secured around Tori’s waist, knowing she was right. They recovered the orb from those thugs in Aspen, and placed it in the special case that wouldn’t allow the damned thing to draw any energy from her unless she let it. But possessing the orb and controlling it were two very different things, and the only instructions for operating it were buried somewhere in Tori’s subconscious. Another volley of laser fire reminded him they weren’t alone, and he dragged her down into a shallow ravine in the canyon floor, away from the blast. “Too bad you’re opposed to violence,” Tori managed caustically, her body heaving against his. Marcos ignored the stab of those words and the heat that slammed through him at the feel of her. Now definitely wasn’t the time for either anger or desire. Tori was right; if only he had a weapon… “Yeeeeeehaaaaaaw!” A jet of superheated air left a burning trail of ozone above them, and the sudden eruption of conventional gunfire broke the silence of the mountainside, before a large, muscular body, encased in a dark jumpsuit, rolled head-over-heels into the ravine. “Man! What a rush!” Coming to his feet in a crouch, the newcomer shoved nickel-plated pistols into the shoulder holsters strapped across his chest and shook back a fall of unruly dirty-blonde hair, his midnight blue eyes sparkling with glee as he drew a small pistol from his jump boot and tossed it toward Marcos. “Hey, Minos. Mind if I crash your little party?” Marcos groaned internally. This was not what he needed. Hunter Kent. No point bothering to ask where he came from; the outfit and his arrival were telling enough. That had to be the T-187, Minos Enterprises’ new jet skimmer system that nearly took their heads off. With an internal sigh of resignation, he inclined his head toward Kent. “Ajax. Test day? What are you doing in Colorado?” Ajax grinned, a slash of white teeth in his tanned face. “Damn, man, you never ease up, do you?” He laughed then. “I got hijacked on my way to the testing site by Aries. Got sick of listening to him jaw

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on about toeing the company line.” He shrugged. “Saw the fireworks, and decided, hell, now was a perfect time to try out those new wings, and get in on the action!” With that, he flipped the guns loose from their holsters and disappeared back over the top of the ravine. Marcos sighed and frowned at the weapon lying at his feet. Kent was heading for big trouble if he didn’t develop a little discipline. “Who was that?” Tori’s stunned voice drew Marcos’ attention. She was blinking in disbelief. Watching her, Marcos realized Hunter Kent wasn’t the only one with a deficiency of self-control. Tori’d proven her impulsiveness more times than he cared to count. Always got into trouble, too. Now, Marcos lifted a brow and smiled tightly as he answered, “Hunter Kent. Mythos’ official daredevil, and unofficial pain in the ass.” Tori’s eyes widened at that description. “Well,” Tori snatched the pistol up from the snow-covered ground and expertly cocked it. “At least he comes armed.” As Tori leapt to her feet, Marcos snaked out an arm, caught her by the belt loop, and hauled her back down. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” She glared at him. “To help your friend.” He snorted. “Kent’s reckless, but I doubt he needs help. Besides, you’re the one those bastards are after, remember?” He plucked the weapon from her hand, grimacing at it. “Stay put.” Silence fell, followed by the rustle of underbrush, and then Hunter Kent’s face, evil-child grin in full bloom. “Well, I think they’ve had enough fun for the day. They cleared out.” Marcos sighed. “You know, you’re going to catch hell for this, amigo.” “Yeah. What else is new?” Hunter shrugged negligently, rising to his feet as Marcos helped Tori out of the ravine. Kent’s eyes focused on Tori and stopped, as a wolf whistle that ground Marcos’ teeth together left him, and his grin widened. “Hey, babe. Who’re you?” She grinned back, extending her hand. “Tori Blair.” Kent’s eyes widened and his grin turned sly. “You’re Minos’ pain in the ass assignment? Hell, he must be getting old. You’re hot stuff, Tori.” Marcos’ fists clenched, his gaze narrowing on Ajax. He’d seen Kent pour on that devilish charm before; it was a running joke that when Hunter Kent turned on the charm, he always got his woman. Only, he was turning it on Tori. There was nothing funny about that.

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“Lay off, Kent,” he growled, possessive heat curling in his gut as he watched Tori’s smile bloom. Si, these two had a lot in common, with the same reckless, wild-child attitude. But, damn it, Tori was his woman, not Hunter Kent’s. Hunter’s eyes flashed between them and widened. With an easy grin, he backed off. “Hey, I get it, man. So, what’s the deal with you, anyway, Minos? Word has it, the Man’s as pissed at you as he is at me, right now.” Marcos snorted. Archer was probably beyond “pissed” at him, after that stunt with the phone yesterday evening. Though, personally, Marcos was convinced Archer’s recent foul attitude had more to do with Tierney Grant than anything else. Not that he’d ever broach that sore subject with his friend now, when things remained so strained because of his lie. “I’m afraid that’s my doing,” Tori supplied with a sly grin. “Apparently, Devante here’s decided to become my personal guardian angel.” Hunter blinked at her in surprise. “Damn. You’re the walking time bomb!” Marcos saw Tori flinch, and his fists clenched tighter. “You’re out of line, Kent.” “Jesus. Would you chill out, Marcos?” Hunter rolled his eyes and gave Tori a sympathetic look. “I don’t know how you put up with his shit.” Tori turned toward him then, and that soft smile on her face stalled Marcos’ heart mid-beat. She was beautiful and he loved her. Even when she was driving him insane. “He kind of grows on you,” she answered Hunter wryly, even as she met Marcos’ gaze, and he got lost in the gentle swirl of obsidian that rushed over him like warm, dark water, salving his soul. Hunter cleared his throat, snapping Marcos back to his surroundings. “Well, guys, I’m out of here. Got a long hike back to Aspen.” He clapped Marcos on the shoulder. “Next time you send me wings to test, Marcos, make sure they’re more than a one-stop ride, huh?” He turned to Tori then and, with a twinkle of pure devilment in his eyes, scooped her up in a bear hug, and planted a smacking kiss right on her lips. Tori’s eyes widened in surprise and Marcos’ blood boiled. For the first time in years, he actually wanted to use his fists to do harm – to Hunter Kent’s smugly grinning face. “Nice to meet you, Tori. Make sure this guy takes good care of you!” Then, with one of his trademark evil-child grins, Hunter Kent disappeared into the underbrush, as silently as a ghost.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tori glanced over her shoulder for the tenth time in the past hour and sighed as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You can quit any time now.” Marcos shot her a quick look, his expression studiously blank, but his eyes dark. “I don’t know what you mean.” “You’re sulking.” “Don’t be absurd.” “I didn’t ask your friend to kiss me, you know. Besides,” she quirked a mischievous smile at him and winked. “I think he only did it to yank your chain.” Marcos scowled. “You like him.” Tori grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. Did he really think she couldn’t see the jealous rage spread all over his face? No wonder Hunter Kent felt the need to bedevil Marcos. She could see where this was going from a mile away and she was smack in the middle of it. Strangely, though, that possessive streak of Marcos’ no longer bothered her. In fact, the flare of jealousy in his eyes made her feel warm. He might never love her, but he definitely cared. Knowing that, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “What’s not to like?” She tossed the words over her shoulder as she picked her way around an outcropping of rock. “He reminds me of Jake, with a gun.” Dead silence answered her remark and Tori turned to find Marcos frozen still, his face pale beneath his tan, and his eyes dark with an uncharacteristic wildness that startled Tori. Okay. Something she said actually scared Marcos Devante. This had to be a first. Only, it was a first Tori didn’t want any part in. “Marcos?”

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The wildness melted into pain in his saddened eyes. “Do you want a more formal introduction? It can be arranged. I’ll—” Shock radiated through Tori. What the hell was he talking about? She didn’t have any designs on Hunter Kent! “Believe me, I got quite enough of an introduction, Marcos.” Her concern grew as she watched his hands clench in trembling fists, and knew that Marcos was struggling with some issue that escaped her. “You think you could love him, then?” Oh, God. She knew what this was all about, now. She completely forgot that Marcos believed she really loved Jake. The idea, which had been ridiculous from the first, was a moot point now. And the thought of falling for a blatant bad boy like Hunter Kent was laughable at best. She had a definite preference for closet bad boys with white knight tendencies, she decided as she smiled. Marcos owned her whole heart, end of story. Tori laughed quietly at the irony of loving a man who was trying to hand her off to another. Must be her personal curse that every time she thought someone really cared, they ditched her. “I don’t see what’s so damned funny,” Marcos grated out, his voice snapping with contained rage. “Marcos.” She turned in her tracks and walked back to him, smiling softly. “I could never love Hunter Kent.” A little of the tension drained from his stance, though his eyes remained wary. “Yet, you admit that he reminds you of Pellier.” “Who was my friend. I don’t think you understand how my relationship with Jake worked, Marcos,” she said in gentle censure, laying a hand against the center of his chest. “Jake and I were never lovers; not like you and I. Yes, we had sex from time to time, but it was a scratch for an itch, and never anything more. We never had trouble separating our friendship from the sex, or knowing which was more important. We never had trouble keeping our hands to ourselves around one another.” His gaze fell to where her hand rested over his beating heart and she saw an emotion suspiciously like hope bloom in his eyes. Tori blinked back tears, remembering how Elena hurt him. She wanted to go back in time and rip the manipulative little bitch’s face off for hurting Marcos. Because of Elena, Marcos was having a hell of a time trusting her, and she hated that. He was trying so hard to trust, but she couldn’t give him the whole truth, because he’d never believe it as long as Elena’s betrayal haunted him. She couldn’t tell Marcos she loved him. The pain was deep and instantaneous, but Tori pushed it aside. She might not be able to say the words without risking being pushed away, but she could let him know in a roundabout way that he was stuck with her. She could give him a part of what she felt.

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“C’mon,” she said as she reached for his hand, urging him to follow her. “Let’s just find the Screamer and go back to Vermont, okay? I’m getting homesick.” His eyes widened in surprise, before a slow smile that tripped Tori’s heart spread over his face, and he squeezed her hand lightly. “Sounds good. Any idea where we go from here?” She reached into one of the static locked pockets of her jacket, pulled out her customized epad, and wrapped the band around her wrist. Flipping it on, she called up her mapping locator and studied it for a moment. “We need to get out of this canyon, for starters. Craine’s chateau is about three miles north, and over a hundred feet above us.”

They continued on in silence for several hours, but it was a companionable silence, and Tori was content to let it go on, until her curiosity got the better of her. She knew Marcos was close to his family, but she didn’t know much about them beyond what she overheard of his phone conversations. Her choice, she knew. Marcos never attempted to keep his family a secret from her and she knew if she asked, he’d tell her about them. But she didn’t want to know, until now; she didn’t want to admit there was anything between her and Marcos except great sex. A wry smile crossed Tori’s face as that thought settled. She wondered why sex with Marcos was so different from anything she ever experienced before. She chalked it all up to the danger and the whole forbidden fruit temptation. Now, her heart stuttered as she faced the truth. She fell for Marcos on their first kiss. Sappy, yes, but there it was. And she wouldn’t change it for the world. “You’re quiet, querida. Something wrong?” She cast him a long look. Now was the perfect chance to satisfy at least one curiosity. “Your sister. Why did she come to the US?” He sighed heavily, moving to help her as she scrambled over some fallen boulders. She didn’t need the help, but she was swiftly coming to understand that chivalry was as deeply imbedded in Marcos’ personality as his darker passion was, so she let him help her. She offered him a smile of thanks as he joined her. “Well?” He met her gaze and sighed again. “Pilar is very…free-spirited. Her faith is strong, but her impetuousness often gets her into trouble.” Tori flashed him a grin, knowing that most of what he said could just as easily apply to her as to his sister. “So far, I don’t see a problem.”

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“She’s eighteen, Tori,” he responded gravely, his gaze level on hers. “Eighteen, and three months pregnant.” Her eyes widened. She could only imagine how that news had gone over with Marcos. “And thus the suddenness of her arrival. I’m guessing it had something to do with that Catholic ethic on marriage and pregnancy.” He nodded. “Mama is beside herself over this. Pilar refuses to name the father, so the issue of marriage can’t even be broached, and—” “She’s not a possession, Marcos.” Tori scanned the canyon wall, and found a narrow path leading up out of the gorge. “Over there.” He nodded again, following her lead. “If Pilar doesn’t want to marry her baby’s father,” Tori continued easily, “maybe she has a good reason.” His expression, when she glanced back at him, was grim. “Since the bastardo refuses to take his responsibility, I’d have to agree there’s a good reason.” She winced. “Bastard might not be the best choice of words in this situation, Devante.” He shrugged, clearly irritated. “You know what I meant. Any man who won’t step forward and take care of the mother of his child doesn’t deserve any sympathy.” Instinctively, Tori bristled at the chauvinistic comment, but forced herself to breathe normally and calm down. This was Marcos, after all. The comment wasn’t meant to be chauvinistic as much as a definition of Marcos’ beliefs; he was a man who saw in black and white terms, and abandonment was a very black subject with him. “It’s the twenty-first century, Devante,” she said with teasing sarcasm. “Women have and raise children without a man’s involvement all the time.” “True.”

He frowned then.

“But if a man is involved, he should take his responsibility

seriously—” “I hate to break it to you, Marcos,” she said, starting cautiously up the narrow path out of the canyon, “but you might want to watch calling anyone names, yourself.” She heard a noise, and glanced back to see him standing frozen in place, his eyes wide in shock. “Tori? Are you—?” She shrugged. She avoided even thinking about this subject, but since it came up now… “Hard to say. I haven’t had a period yet, but I’ve always been irregular and I’m only two days late so far. And I’m on birth control, which should lessen the chances. But still,” she met his gaze levelly. “It is possible, Marcos. What then?”

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“Dios.” The oath left him in a murmur, before he met her eyes and she saw emotions there that she dared not hope for. “We’ll get married, just as soon as we get back.” Her heart tripped, and then plummeted. As it shattered at her feet, she closed her eyes and forced back the tears she didn’t want Marcos to see. She didn’t want him to know how his words affected her. She’d be damned if she’d go through with a marriage of convenience, or obligation. Her resolve strengthened, she opened her eyes and forced her voice light as she said, “If that was a proposal, Devante, you suck at them.” She took a determined step forward, and her foot slipped on the icy incline. Tori’s arms flailed out, and she caught herself against the wall of the canyon, her back pressed tightly to the freezing stone. Panting, she closed her eyes and listened to her heart hammering in her ears. “Holy shit.” “Tori!” Instantly, Marcos was at her side. “Querida, are you all right?” “I’m fine.” She shook off his assessing touch and nodded toward the canyon ridge above them. “We’ll have to find some shelter once we get up there. It’s going to get dark soon and I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of stumbling around in the mountains after dark.” He nodded shortly and stepped around her on the path, his expression grim as he took her hand. “I’ll lead, that way you can hang onto me if you slip again.” Annoyance flared in Tori. He was doing it again; making her sound incompetent. “I’m very sure of my footing, thank you very much. I’m a gymnast, you know.” “And I’m not taking any chances.” She blinked, nonplussed.

Marcos confused her regularly, but now he was clearly incom-

prehensible. “Chances with what? That I’ll run off on you? Marcos, I thought we were past this—” “Chances of you falling, if you are pregnant.” Tori hissed out an exasperated curse, yanking her hand free. “Christ, Marcos! It’s a ‘what-if,’ at best. And who says you get a say in what I do, even if I am?” “Genetics does. If you’re pregnant, that’s my child as much as yours. I won’t let you, or it, come to any harm.” She glared at him. He made her sound like a freaking baby receptacle. “My body; my choices.” He whirled so fast she nearly slipped again, before she found herself yanked up against his body. Raising her eyes, she nearly gasped at the mask of rage that had settled over his face. “You will not get an abortion, damn it! If it takes every penny I have, I’ll fight you over that.” She reeled, the accusation in his voice slamming into her already-splintered heart with the force of a laser blast. Eyes closed against the ache, she managed, “That’s not what I meant. You really think I’d do something like that?”

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His expression remained granite-hard when she opened her eyes again, but his eyes were cloudy with pain. “If it interfered with your precious reputation? In a heartbeat.” The agony twisted deeper in Tori. He had no idea how wrong he was. He didn’t have a clue how much she’d give to have his baby; to have something of him to hold onto, who’d love her as he clearly couldn’t, when they finally parted ways. “Didn’t you even hear what I told you at the penthouse, that first night?” She pushed past him, continuing up the ice-slicked path ahead of him. She couldn’t let him see the stinging tears that froze on her cheeks. “I’m not made that way, Devante.” She threw those words over her shoulder, unwilling to look back at him. She didn’t want to know how he’d react. She already knew she wasn’t strong enough to face his scorn a second time.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

He didn’t like this. Marcos frowned as he studied the granite wall that rose before him. It had to be at least a hundred and fifty feet to the top. And Tori was going to climb it with nothing more than her SCIDS. He didn’t want to think about what might happen, nor could he banish the memory of his premonition from his mind. His heart clenched at the image of Tori falling to her death. No, he definitely didn’t like this. “Maybe you should use a belay line, as a precaution,” he suggested, glancing at the woman by his side. “I don’t have one, and even if I did, it would be more of a hazard than a help to me, Marcos.” She rechecked the fastenings of her gloves and boots. “I’m used to climbing this way. A rope would get in my way.” Marcos drew in a deep breath as he looked back up at the cliff. “Why can’t you people ever build normal houses, in normal places?” Her eyes were dancing with laughter when he turned back to her. “This from a man who built his own home in the mountains?” “That’s different,” he said dismissively. “I built up there for the peace and quiet, but there aren’t any sudden, steep drops anywhere on my property. That,” he gestured to the cliff, “is insane.” She laughed. “I’ll be sure to pass that diagnosis along to Craine, if I see him.” Marcos scowled. “If you get so much as a glimpse of Craine, I expect you to get the hell out of there, Tori. The Screamer isn’t worth your life.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she grinned impishly up at him and Marcos ached to kiss her. “Careful, Devante. I might start to think you mean that.”

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“I do mean that. You be careful up there, querida.” He wanted to say more, but he didn’t want things between them strained when she made her ascent. He already knew how Tori viewed love and he wasn’t about to make her angry now. He didn’t want her thinking about anything but the climb. Tori’s eyes traveled up the cliff and a small sigh escaped her. “Well, I guess I’d better get to it.” “Hold up a minute,” Marcos instructed, laying a hand on her arm as he recalled the pouch he pulled from his desk drawer just before they left Vermont. He meant to give it to her at the lodge, but there wasn’t time. He hadn’t counted on running across ORION out here; he should have known better.

Tori glanced back at Marcos curiously and watched as he drew a small, plastic pouch from an interior pocket of his leather jacket, emptying its contents into the palm of his hand. Tori blinked at the tiny, oblong devices – roughly the size of the end of her smallest finger – and then shifted her disbelieving gaze to Marcos’ face. “Piercers? Marcos, those things only have an effective range of about three hundred feet!” He lifted one eyebrow, and his lips twitched. “I know. My company developed them, remember? However,” he picked up one miniscule device, holding it out to her. “These aren’t standard Piercers. These have been modified with extended receivers and enhanced pick-up. There are only ten like this in the whole world.” She eyed the unit he offered her warily. “So, where are the other seven?” “Kin Raidon, one of Mythos’ agents, has two of them. Archer has a third, and Bennett Sevastian has the fourth. Two are in safe storage with Merril.” Her brow rose. That only accounted for six. “And lucky number seven?” She could have sworn he hesitated for an instant before, in a clipped tone that told her he didn’t intend to discuss the issue, he answered, “Destroyed.” She took the offered Piercer unit, and pushed it into her right ear, wincing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling. “So, how’s it work?” “You know how the standard Piercers work, I assume.” She nodded. “They’re activated by a remote listening station and will pick up even sounds covered by white noise. The unit it my ear lets me hear the sounds and transmits them back to the listening station, as well.” He reached up to adjust the unit in her ear and Tori sighed with relief as she felt the pressure settle and disappear. Marcos’ lips quirked slightly. “Right. Well, these units are a little different. They can be activated individually, as well as at a station. It’ll pick up all of the same frequencies of sound as the originals, but these Piercers are set to a channel, as well, for communication between parties. I’ll set my

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unit to the same channel as yours, which will allow us to communicate freely and allow me to hear everything you hear. The range has also been amplified and should be sufficient for anywhere in the chateau. If you start moving out of range, you’ll hear a series of pulsing beeps. If that happens, get back into the signal zone quickly.” In other words, he wanted her to maintain contact. Tori relaxed, relieved that she wouldn’t be totally alone up there. Someone would know if anything happened to her. Marcos would know and he wouldn’t hesitate to act. She felt safer already. She sucked in a breath to psych herself up and nodded. “Guess I’m all set, then.” “Not quite.” He grasped her arm as she started to move away, his voice husky as he murmured, “There’s one more thing.” She turned, concerned. What was she missing now? “What?” He leaned in and covered her lips with a soft kiss. Warmth radiated through Tori, burning away all her fears and doubts. She could do this, with Marcos as her backup. She could do anything, as long as she knew he was there to catch her if she fell. He drew away and whispered, “For luck. Be careful up there, Tori.” She smiled, her heart quivering in her chest, and reached to skim her fingers over his cheek and jaw. “I’m not worried. I’ve got a secret weapon.” He quirked a brow at her. “Oh?” “Yeah,” she said softly. “You.” He blinked. “I don’t follow—” Of course he wouldn’t. Smiling tenderly, she brushed her thumb across his lips, and then touched the medallion around his neck. “You’ve got a direct line to heaven, Devante.” Then, giving him a wink full of more bravado than she actually felt, Tori turned and reached for her first hand hold, as she activated her SCIDS. She hoped Marcos understood and that he’d say a prayer or two for her sake. Tori’d forgotten how to pray the day of her sixth birthday, when she realized that no one was ever coming to rescue her.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Marcos was right. Jeremiah Craine was a grade A, certifiable wack-job. Tori muttered a curse as the SCIDS slipped yet again on the crumbling rock face of the cliff. She nearly lost her grip three times since she reached the halfway mark an hour ago. Who ever heard of building a house on the crest of a chalk and granite cliff? Every time she thought she had a grip, she discovered she hit a chalk deposit and the SCIDS would slip loose. She was beginning to think it was all part of Craine’s plan. The deposits were so evenly space, and always where she first thought to anchor herself. She sighed and grumbled under her breath, heaping curses on Craine’s egotistical head. However, he wasn’t the Master of Traps for nothing. The cliff had probably been engineered to contain soft chalk deposits. That would certainly deter the sport climber and any other thief. But not Tori Blair. She set her jaw grimly, eyeing the cliff above her. She made a promise and she intended to keep it. She set her SCIDS into yet another chalk deposit and swore harshly in surprise. Damn, that one looked solid! “Are you all right?” The sharp voice in her right ear startled Tori and she nearly lost her grip completely. “Goddamn it, Devante! I’m busy!” She snapped, her heart still pounding in her throat from the surprise. She managed to forget all about the Piercer in her ear over the past few hours. Marcos probably heard her muttered oath. “Are you all right?” He repeated, his tone still sharp and his words laced with a tension she couldn’t quite place. “I’m fine, except that you almost scared me into a hundred foot drop, thanks,” she said caustically. “Are you near the top, yet?”

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“Yeah.” She grunted as she pulled herself above a chalk deposit, glaring balefully at the damned thing. Her muscles screamed from the tension. “God, I’m going to hurt like hell, tomorrow!” His quiet chuckle of understanding warmed her from the inside and fueled her strength. “How much further until you reach the summit?” She looked up, gauging distance. “About fifty feet, give or take.” “You’re getting soft, Blair.” She heard the teasing lilt of his voice and her heart tripped, even as a smile slid across her face. “I watched you scale the outside of Bon Dauphin in minutes.” A grin flashed across Tori’s face as she sank the miniature jaws of her right glove into a patch of solid granite. “Shows what you know about thievery.” “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice curious, rather than annoyed. This was progress. Her grin widened and tenderness blossomed in her chest. “Well, I was going down the outside of the hotel, first off. Simple physics; gravity always increases speed. The first lesson of a second story thief is always go down, when possible, especially in egress. If you try to go up, you’re working against gravity, and taking the chance of getting caught.” She eyed several patches of cliff carefully, trying to determine what was chalk and what was granite. This was definitely not a natural phenomenon; the chalk deposits were disguised to look exactly like the granite ones. Someone had deliberately set this up. That sick bastard. She was going to throttle Craine if she got her hands on him. “So tell me why you’re going up this mountain, then,” Marcos said quietly in her ear. “Shouldn’t we have looked for a way in that was above him?” She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, grinning widely. Marcos was a brilliant businessman, and an amazingly intelligent man in general, but it was clear he was out of his league now. “Two problems with that. First, Craine’s not stupid, Marcos. He’s built his hideaway on the highest point around. I doubt we’d find a close enough access from above, short of an airdrop; and if you think what I’m doing at the moment’s dangerous…” There was a pause, and then, “And the second reason?” “If I come in from above, that means I have to go out that way if I want a secure egress. Since speed is always more essential in escape than in entry, I need gravity working on my side when I leave. Hence, I go up to get in and down to get out.” “I see.” Tori frowned at the stretch of rock before her. Oh, well. She couldn’t hang here all day, making up her mind. Drawing a deep breath, she moved her left hand, and heard the telltale whine of the SCIDS unit sinking into soft chalk. “Son of a bitch.”

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She heard Marcos’ indrawn breath, and knew what was coming. Really, he needed to learn to not worry so much about her. Her work was dangerous; he’d better just get used to it, if he intended to keep her around any length of time. Not that she expected he would want to, once their deal was concluded, she told herself, and ignored the brief pang to her heart. “Are—?” “I’m fine,” she cut off his question, even as the clamps on the fingers of her glove locked into the edge of granite just above the chalk. “This damned cliff is booby-trapped.” “How do you booby-trap a cliff?” He sounded skeptical. She snorted. He really had this annoying tendency to overestimate her threat potential and underestimate anyone else’s. “If anyone could figure that out, Craine would. There are chalk deposits in this cliff.” “You’re sure they’re not natural?” “Hell, no, I’m not sure. Do I look like a geologist, Devante?” His chuckle warmed her from the inside, holding off the biting cold wind that battered against her body. Then, softly, he murmured, “No. But then, you don’t look like an alien assassin, either. Nothing would surprise me, when it comes to you, querida.” “Gee, thanks.” She sucked in deeper breaths as the air thinned and the rock face grew more ragged. It was almost as if this cliff had been engineered to provide the most difficult conditions possible. She wasn’t entirely convinced it hadn’t been. Everything she knew of Craine told her he was the worst kind of methodical bastard out there. Her lungs burned from the cold as she rasped, “Next time I decide to go mountain climbing, remind me to bring an oxygen mask, okay?” “There’s not going to be a next time, querida. Not if I have anything to say about it. Now, get your sweet butt up there and do your job. I want you out of there, pronto. Don’t make me come and rescue you again.” As if! Angry heat flashed through Tori, spurring her forward as she scaled the rest of the cliff at a speed that was probably as stupid as it was reckless. This was a point of honor now. She’d prove to Marcos that she didn’t need anyone to rescue her. She could damn well get out of her own messes! She was out of breath by the time she reached the top, but the adrenaline high of success flowed freely in her veins and she felt energized in a way that only danger gave her. Yeah, she was an adrenaline junkie, and proud of it. Tori grinned to herself; no self-respecting person ever went into her line of work unless they craved the rush that came with danger. She was in her glory now. As she slipped into the shadows of the sprawling, two-story chateau, she let her eyes travel up the outside length of the building and shook her head in wry humor. So, Craine thought his break-in at Minos

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Enterprises made him Top Dog, did he? After studying the security schematics of the lab where the Screamer was lifted from, she knew Craine’s success had more to do with luck than skill. He might be the Master of Traps, a pro at defensive systems and setting hidden dangers, but he was a bumbling idiot when it came to avoiding traps. He very nearly stumbled into several in the course of his infiltration of Minos Enterprises. First-hand study of the schematics told her that he tripped at least one alarm; but, due to the inefficiency of the power grid connection, the alarm had never actually activated. All of the traps at Staten Island were ones Tori would have avoided easily, but Craine hadn’t. Tori’s grin widened. Now she had a challenge and she was up to it. She was going to prove, once and for all, that her reputation was well earned; to Marcos, as well as Craine. She was going to get past all of the Master of Traps’ little surprises and retrieve the Screamer. Activating the SCIDS again, she scaled the outside wall, clear to the roof. Like she told Marcos the first time they discussed Craine, she made it a point to know everything about her enemies; including their weaknesses. Craine was arrogant. With his sense of mental superiority, she knew he was likely to believe that building way up here made him immune to penetration from the roof. He would know as well as she did that anyone dropping in from the air was taking a huge risk of committing suicide. Reaching the roof, she deactivated the SCIDS and murmured, “Okay, I’m on the roof now.” She heard Marcos’ muttered oath and bit back a laugh. “Tori, I thought we agreed that the roof was too dangerous—” “You want to call the shots, Devante,” she informed him pertly as she navigated the icy, sloping roof, carefully picking her way over the slate shingles, “then you get your ass up here and do it yourself. But, as long as I’m the one risking my neck, I’ll do this thing my way, and I say I go in from the roof!” She heard another oath, this one lower, as if muttered beneath his breath, before he sighed in resignation. “All right. Just be careful.” He really was too paranoid, she decided with a smile as she reached the entry point she already decided on in her mind. Fake chimney, made purely for show. Hardly anyone still burned wood, except for people like Marcos, whose penchant for using a fireplace was a romantic notion at best, and anachronistic to boot. Peering down the chimney of Craine’s home, she saw the paler coloration of light hitting the brick from below and grinned. She ran her fingers along the inside rim of the chimney, and her glove came away clean. Oh, yeah; she was right once again. She pegged Craine as the type to have at least one functioning fireplace, but never actually use it. Craine was pompous. He liked to present himself as a man of old-world sophistication, but his bearing was as false as Marcos’ was real. Thus, Craine would have a usable fireplace in at least one room of his

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chateau, but would find the idea of using it ludicrous, with modern internal climate control. He just wanted to claim the romanticism of being able to light a roaring fire if he chose. Triumph rushed through Tori. Craine’s arrogance was about to become his downfall. A fireplace would have no security measures or traps, because Craine would never believe a rival would know him this well, or figure him out so easily. “I’m going in through the chimney,” she murmured, for Marcos’ benefit, and slipped over the low wall and into the brick flue. The SCIDS whined and clamped to the brick wall, slowly rotating toward her fingertips, and Tori’s pulse sped up on cue. Ready or not… She grinned to herself as she eased down the narrow passage, her back against one wall as her hands and feet walked along the other three. In the silence, she whispered, “What do we have on location?” Marcos had her epad, with her cross-sectioned 3D blueprint, complete with possible locations for the Screamer. Normally, she’d have the epad and do her own checking, but this was hardly a normal situation. She’d need every one of her senses to detect any traps Craine might have set. She didn’t need the distraction of constantly checking an epad. “The first marker you have here, if you end up in the great room, is two rooms down on the left, if that’s Craine’s study.” “Oh, ye of little faith,” she quipped on a teasing breath. “I know what I’m doing, Devante.” “How?” He demanded. “How can you possibly know anything about this place? You’ve never even been here before!” “True. But Jazz was here several times. He had a…um…friend, who was a regular guest of Craine’s. Jazz liked to explore places and map them; he was awesome at it. He helped me draft the original blueprints I have stored in that epad. I told you, I always know my enemies.” “You are thorough.” There was new respect in Marcos’ voice, and it poured through Tori like fine wine. She had to stop and steady herself as excitement bubbled in her. Was he finally coming around? “Maybe I should be glad you decided not to steal from me.” Those words made Tori feel positively buoyant with relief. He was beginning to understand! Only, now wasn’t the time to bask in the warm glow of acceptance. She needed to be one hundred percent focused on her job, or she wouldn’t just be caught; she’d be dead. Drawing a deep breath to steady her nerves, Tori detached herself from everything except the task. Distance settled over her and her focus slid into place. This was more like it. She grinned as she dropped lightly from the chimney into the fireplace and, moving with silent stealth, crossed the great room to the door. Craine was going to shit himself when he realized how easily she got around his security measures.

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Glancing over the room, she barely contained her snort of disgust. Ostentatious was one thing; she was used to seeing that kind of decorating in showcase homes. But Craine’s tastes were downright obscene in ways that offended her eyes. All around her were objects meant to be a show of wealth, rather than taste, jumbled together until they merely looked tacky. Louis XVI settee and chairs, Queen Anne sideboard and desk, Victorian draperies of heavy velvet, and Persian rugs of some god-awful pattern that hurt her eyes filled the room. Above the fireplace was an archaic crest of arms, decorated with ancient swords and Tori had to clap a hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh. Not just arrogant, apparently. Craine was an out-and-out snob. The artwork was a stark contrast to the rest of the room. Stiff, regal figures, all with eerily familiar, unsmiling faces, looked down on her in condescension. It was a look Tori was all too used to receiving, but that didn’t make it feel any more comfortable. With a twitch of her shoulders, she attempted to shrug off the uneasy feeling of being watched, and opened the door leading into the corridor. Relief trickled through her. Much better. “Which way?” she breathed, hoping Marcos could hear her, through the walls. “South,” came his immediate reply, answering her unspoken question as well as the spoken one. Tori turned to her left, checked the compass on her wrist, and nodded. South. She slunk along the wall as she headed down the left-hand passage. Right before she reached the first door, Tori paused, listening briefly for the sounds of movement. No one. Nor was there likely to be. If she remembered Jazz’s blueprint correctly, that room was hardly ever used – a library full of archaic books. She went to step past the door and froze as she caught a gleam of yellow light out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head slowly, she saw the bright yellow light hidden in an optiglass sculpture on a pedestal in the hallway. Her eyes scanned the walls swiftly, searching for telltale little black reflectors that would confirm her fear. Her breath stopped as her eyes landed on two reflectors, on either side of the door lintel, and another just behind the pedestal. “Sneaky,” she murmured in admiration. Apparently, Craine had at least really earned his title as Master of Traps. “He’s got three-point spread Spiders on this door; probably the same on all the rest, too. These have to be costing him a fortune to maintain!” “Not necessarily.” Marcos sounded thoughtful. “Care to explain?” He sighed. “I shouldn’t; but… Spiders can be decoyed at nine, six, and three-point. The spread system’s the same, but the patch-in to the power grid of a building is cycling, rather than the stable lines ten, eight, and four-point systems use.”

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“Which means…” “Which means a functioning three-point Spider will pulse in light and dark intervals, a patterned rotation. If the beam source doesn’t pulse, it’s patched in through a direct line, and doesn’t activate if crossed.” Tori grinned wryly. Who’d have thought Marcos Devante had that kind of deviousness in him? Every time she though she had him pegged, he’d show her a side of himself that surprised her. “Very sneaky, Devante.” There was a moment of silence, and then, “Tori, I don’t want you using what I just told you on any other jobs you do. Promise me, it stays here and now.” The grim note in his voice gave her an instant’s pause. She never heard quite that quality to his voice before. He sounded as if he’d do whatever it took to safeguard the information he just gave her. But he was asking her to avoid using information that could save her life on a job. After a long moment of internal debate, she finally sighed. “I promise. Fortunately, I don’t encounter decoy Spiders very often, anyway. The system’s too expensive.” She turned her attention to the system in question, then, her gaze narrowing on the light that was the source of the invisible beam. It never so much as flickered and Tori grinned. Decoy. Her grin dropped. Just because the Spider was a decoy didn’t mean there wasn’t some kind of trap involved. This was Craine, after all. Now wasn’t the time to get cocky. Craine wasn’t about to lose the title of Master of Traps in his quest to be the Master Thief. He dared her to come here, knowing she wouldn’t be able to ignore the challenge, and he’d be prepared for her, which meant she had to do the unexpected. Dropping to the floor, Tori eased herself past the pedestal on her belly. It wasn’t a typical move for her; normally, she would have tried to outsmart the system by deflecting the beam. But Craine probably knew her signature moves as well as she did, and he’d know she didn’t know that Spiders came as decoys as well as active systems. Or hadn’t, until now anyway. What Craine didn’t know was that she had the Spider’s creator to talk her through the detection. Craine expected her to use deflectors, and probably had a back-up laser system set to detect deflected beams. Sliding under whatever beams might be up there, Tori slowly uncurled her lithe body from the floor several feet past the pedestal and continued on toward the next door down the hall. She froze a few steps from the door, her eyes skimming the walls. If an unimportant room had a security system of any kind on it, then Craine’s study would be guarded like Fort Knox. There. A light blinked from orange to yellow, just above the doorframe. There were reflectors angled on the opposite wall, so that any motion in front of the study door would activate the web of

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electrical currents that were capable of stunning an adult. Obviously, whatever he kept in his study, Craine didn’t want anyone near. Tori grinned. Too bad; she was going in, anyway. “Okay; I’ve got a six-point Spider with a single beam bounce reflector, and probably deflector alarms and possibly pressure pads in the floor. Any ideas?” “Get out.” Tori frowned at the tension in that single command. Damn it, he still didn’t trust her to know how to do her job! “Not without the Screamer.” “Maldito sea! Tori, forget the damned Screamer—” “No. I made a promise. That means something to me, you know. Besides,” she continued quietly as she studied the Spider set-up carefully, “that Screamer could be the only real chance humanity has against the Anaz-Voohri. I know Craine. He’s all about the money; he’ll sell the Screamer to the highest bidder, even if that’s the aliens.” “Like you were going to do with the protocol formula?” “This isn’t the time,” she hissed. “But I wasn’t going to sell the formula and I won’t let Craine sell the Screamer.” “How do I know that?” She gritted her teeth in frustration. After everything they’d been through, why couldn’t he just take her word? “You’re just going to have to trust me, Devante.” He was silent so long that Tori’s heart clenched with dread that he changed his mind about trusting her. Then, his heavy sigh filled her ear. “Can you get in behind the Spider?” “It’s mounted above the door. On the frame.” “Good. Use one of your deflector mirrors as a tool. Slide it in between the wall and the back of the unit, if you can reach it. There’s an activation trigger just behind the beam generator.” He drew a breath. “That’ll get you past the Spider. The rest is your department.” Her eyes traveled up the door, and then took in the lack of furniture near the door. She frowned, knowing her five-foot-six-inch frame wasn’t going to stretch far enough. Too bad Marcos wasn’t here with her. He could do it easily. “Wish I was as tall as you, baby,” she murmured. His chuckle filled her ear. “I don’t. I like you just the way you are.” Tori bit back a grin as her eyes skimmed the hallway in the direction she’d just come. She remembered seeing a table…there! Quickly retracing her steps, she eyed the ornate wooden table. It looked light enough to carry; she just hoped it was sturdy enough to support her. She’d find out soon

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enough. Grabbing the edges, she hefted the table off the floor and carted it awkwardly down the hall to the side of the door. Improvisation; the second-story thief’s savior. Grinning, she climbed carefully onto the table. Hmm. Seemed stable enough. With a satisfied nod, she dug a thin metal tube, roughly the length of her hand, out of her pocket. Deflectors were special, concave strips of reflective titatone, meant to bounce a series of beams back to their origin point the same way a reflector would, no matter how short the distance between deflector and beam origin. Choosing the thinnest of the strips, Tori reached to slide the deflector in behind the small, dark unit that housed the Spider’s powerful laser. She felt the metal catch on something, and tensed. “I hit something.” “That’s the switch. Just push it down and it should deactivate the system.” She did as instructed and nearly laughed as the light suddenly flashed to dim yellow and didn’t so much as flicker. “Devante, you’re a genius.” “Just be careful, querida.” “Always am,” she tossed back flippantly as she dismounted from the table to land lightly on her feet. Just as her feet touched the ground, she froze, her nanotechnologically enhanced ears picking up the approach of feet, even before the sound of voices became clear. “Someone’s coming,” she hissed, and flew into motion, hauling the table back into place. She dropped down to squeeze herself beneath the ornate wooden edge and shrank as far back against the wall as she could. Eyes closed, she shallowed her breathing and listened to the pounding of her heart. Over the rush of blood in her ears, she heard the voices growing louder. One was female, tinged with a slight Greek accent, and the other was male, deep and with a Southern accent Tori could swear she’d heard before. He sounded angry. “He’s being unreasonable, damn it.” “You should watch that tendency to flap your jaws, Colonel Branson.” The woman’s voice snapped with irritation. “Remember, my first loyalty is to the general, right now.” The general? Tori’s eyes widened. Oh, God. They were talking about Carrick! If Carrick’s minions were around here, that meant… Craine was in league with ORION! She heard Marcos’ muttered oath in her ear and knew he heard. She wanted to ask what he knew about Carrick, but didn’t dare, with this mystery couple so near. “He’s losing it, you know. There’s been talk…” The woman made an impatient, dismissive sound. “There’s always talk. We can’t let it sway us, this close. We’ve got leads on most of the women, but we still have work to do.” “Cane says the general’s taken a personal interest in that woman.”

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“Don’t be disgusting, Branson,” the woman sneered. “She’s an animal.” Tori barely managed to contain her gasp of shock, even as she heard Marcos’ oath in her ear. Were they talking about her, or was this a clue to Electra? “Yeah, well, he’s not exactly acting rational anymore, Flavia. Even you have to admit that,” the mysterious Branson said as the couple passed by Tori’s location. “There’s talk he’s making deals with the aliens.” Flavia snorted. “There’s too much talk.” Holding her breath, Tori watched them pause just before the door where she stood a moment ago. Flavia withdrew something that looked like a miniature car remote from her pocket and pointed it at the Spider unit. Uh-oh. Clearly, she thought she was deactivating the unit. Tori winched. Boy, were these two ever in for a surprise; and a massive headache. “I need to get the recorder and the prototypes, before we head over to the cells,” Flavia told her companion briskly. “The general wants the woman kept alive, but she’s too strong to break, without deactivating the alien protocols.” “Tori, get the hell out of there, pronto,” Marcos’ voice filled Tori’s ear, his tone dark with concern. She couldn’t respond, with Flavia and Branson so close, but there was no way she was budging. Flavia was after prototypes. Tori would bet her right eye the Screamer was locked up in Craine’s study. She had to get in there. And what was in those mysterious cells she mentioned? There was a flash of bright yellow light and a high, startled cry, before two bodies crumpled to the floor, victims of the Spider’s stun web, at the very least, and who knew what other security measures. Tori smirked. That pair would be down for a while. Grinning to herself, Tori murmured, “All clear. I’m going in after the Screamer.” “Tori, wait—” She ignored Marcos as she stooped to collect the remote from Flavia’s jacket pocket. The slim, busty woman looked familiar, but Tori couldn’t exactly place her. Her companion was a different story altogether. She’d danced with him three times since she recovered the orb in Paris. She wasn’t about to tangle with him again, she decided as he twitched. Abandoning the remote briefly, she administered a quick chop to Branson’s neck, rendering him unconscious again, before going after the remote. She was running out of time. The Spider took less than a minute to reset, and she was down by at least half. Her fingers contacted with the remote and Tori pulled it free, aimed it at the Spider unit, and punched the deactivation button, just as the system began powering up. The light went back to steady yellow, and Tori breathed a sigh of relief. That was cutting it too close.

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Something thudded against Tori’s shoe. She looked down and froze, dizziness sweeping through her as the blood drained from her head. Feeling queasy, she stared at the dark pendant, shaped like a piece of twisted metal, lying on her boot. She knew that necklace! Crouching, she picked it up, her heart pounding harshly as she told herself it couldn’t be the same necklace. As her fingers came in contact with the pendant, however, it began to pulse and warm in her hand, turning a bright, shimmering green. Oh, God. There was only one pendant in the world that she knew of that glowed this way. Still, she told herself it couldn’t be. She needed proof. Fingers trembling, she turned the pendant over and any doubt she had vanished. A phoenix was etched into the metal lump. Electra. “Oh, God.” “Tori? What’s happened?” Marcos’ voice barked in her ear, his tone worried. “Electra’s alive, Marcos. I think she’s being held here, somewhere.” “Tori, we don’t have time…” He was right, of course. But that didn’t stop the determination that bubbled up in Tori as she closed her hand around the pendant and its leather necklace. Her eyes narrowed to dark, fiery slits. She’d get her friend back, no matter what it took. But, for now, she had a promise to keep, to the man she loved. Rising to her feet again, Tori strode purposefully toward the study door. Craine had stolen from Marcos and ORION had systematically kidnapped her friend. If there was one thing Tori believed in with her whole heart, it was eye-for-an-eye justice. It was payback time.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The silence that filtered through the Piercer in his ear grated on Marcos’ nerves. He paced the forest floor anxiously, frustration boiling inside him. This wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be Tori. That was his prototype Craine had; he should be the one up there, risking his neck to get it back. But Marcos lacked the skills necessary for the job. So, instead, he watched the woman he loved – possibly the mother of his child – scale a cliff that could easily have been her death, toward a future he’d already seen and dreaded. He sent Tori into the lion’s den, alone. He tried to not distract her on the climb, aware how dangerous her ascent was; but every gasp and oath from her lips stabbed him with terror, until he had to know. He was never as relieved as when she finally declared herself at the summit; until she told him she was heading for the roof. All of his fears, spawned by that horrible premonition, crashed over him in that instant. But she made it to the chimney and into the building, and a new respect for her ability formed in Marcos with every obstacle she overcame. Now, he heard her moving around in a room – probably Craine’s study – opening and closing doors and drawers, and rattling papers. “Damn it, I know it’s here somewhere!” Her voice muttered in his ear. “You can’t be sure of that,” he reminded her quietly. “Just because Carrick’s agents were discussing prototypes, doesn’t mean the Screamer’s there. We have no idea how many prototypes Craine might have in his possession.” She huffed out a breath. “Think logically, Marcos. If you were going to store the prototype for a weapon anywhere, where would you do it?” “Besides the appropriate lab?” He asked wryly. “In a locked safe.” “Exactly. I’m looking for the release catch on the safe I found hidden in the floor under Craine’s desk.”

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He blinked. He hadn’t even known she found a safe. He opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, but her sudden, small cry of triumph cut him off. “I found it!” There was a muffled noise he couldn’t identify, and then a hissing, before Tori laughed quietly. “One Screamer prototype. I’ve got it!” Relief rushed through Marcos. Gracias a Dios. Finally. He didn’t give a damn about the Screamer, anymore. He just wanted Tori out of there. “Good. Now, get out of there. We—” “Bravo, Ms. Blair. You really are a master thief.” That cold, sarcastic voice poured ice through Marcos’ veins. Tori was up there, alone, and he let her walk right into ORION’s trap.

“General Carrick!” Tori uttered the name just loud enough to be heard, trusting that Marcos would hear and understand the danger she was in. Oh, God. Marcos. He was right, again! This was some kind of trap. And, suddenly, the truth dawned. That black-out he had back in Vermont… Had Marcos seen this very event? Had it been that, and not his protective streak, which had prompted his reaction to her plan? None of this was helping her. Forcing herself calm, Tori managed a nonchalant, “What are you doing here, General?” Carrick’s quicksilver eyes flashed with disdain behind the shield of his glasses, making Tori feel about two inches tall. She hated that feeling. “I live here,” he answered simply. “The question, my dear Ms. Blair, should be why you are here. Except, I already know that, too.” A sinister smirk twisted his lips, sending dread shooting through Tori. How could he possibly know? And he said…he lived here? Her disbelief must have shown on her face, because Carrick’s grin turned even more mocking. “Can’t pass up a challenge, can you?” He raised his hand then, and Tori gasped as she saw the stun-pistol. Knowing Carrick, that gun wouldn’t just stun her; it was liable to kill her. She had to keep him talking, and she needed to make sure Marcos knew exactly what was going on. If she disappeared, Marcos would have to know what went down here, to find her, or avenge her. “What’s the gun for?” Carrick’s face twisted in a grimace and he rolled his eyes, one more sluggish than the other. Did he have an implant? “I’m sure even a woman of your intelligence can figure out what weapons are for,” Carrick snapped. Tori’s eyes went wide as the truth of why Carrick was there rushed through her. “Oh my God! You’re Craine!”

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A dark laugh spat from his lips as he stepped further into the room. “Craine? Craine is nothing more than a character in a charade.” Tori’s brow furrowed. This wasn’t adding up. She knew ORION was probably behind the theft of the Screamer, but if Carrick himself, or one of his agents, had actually been the thief, it wasn’t as simple as she thought. “Why steal the Screamer? The testing isn’t complete, yet.” His expression grew more forbidding. “Your IQ drops by the minute, Ms. Blair. That prototype is leverage.” Tori frowned. “Against who? Minos Enterprises? Marcos Devante?” He snorted. “Hardly. Companies, like empires, come and go; even the sainted Marcos Devante’s. That prototype is my leverage with the Anaz-Voohri; as, naturally, are you.” “Like hell.” Tori glared at Carrick. This asshole really thought she was a tradable commodity? Her fists clenched with the desire to show him the error of his ways. “Tori, get out.” She heard Marcos’ firm command in her ear. “This isn’t your fight.” “You kidnapped my friend,” Tori shot at Carrick, ignoring Marcos’ order. If Marcos thought this wasn’t her battle, he could just think again. She’d been itching to confront Carrick and find out where Electra was. Carrick’s eyes sparked with interest. “You figured that out all on your own, did you?” Tori laughed sharply. “Who else would have wanted to kidnap her? Now, tell me where she is.” “Don’t worry.” His lips twisted in a sinister grin. “You’ll join her soon enough.” “Like hell,” she repeated through gritted teeth, even as her eyes scanned the room. There was a window to her left, and she was sure that was where Carrick would expect her to dive for in escape. If she faked that way, maybe she could get past him and make it back up to the roof. They’d never expect her to go up. She could hide on the roof until they all went off searching for her and then she’d be free to search for those cells Carrick’s subordinates had been discussing. Before Carrick could get off a shot, Tori dove for the window, drawing his aim and his fire that direction.

She slid toward him, instead, arrowing her body through the gap between his body and the

door and tumbling into the hallway. On her feet in a flash, Tori sprinted down the hall, ducking her head as gunfire blasted around her. Her gaze fixed determinedly forward, she shoved aside all distraction. Carrick knew where Electra was. She wasn’t about to leave this building without that information. “Tori!” She heard Marcos’ voice in her ear, a thread of fear in his tone. “What’s going on? Can you get out?” “I’m not leaving.”

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“What?” His disbelieving roar nearly deafened her. Wincing, Tori activated the SCIDS and ducked into the fireplace. “I think Electra’s here, Marcos,” she managed around pants for breath as she began carefully scaling the interior of the flue. “If not, Carrick knows where she is. I’m going to hide and make them think I’ve escaped. Then, when they’re gone, I’m going to see if I can find her.” She heard him swear, and a wry smile tugged her lips. Marcos was getting quite inventive with those curses. “You do that,” he rasped, “and you’ll be sharing whatever cell she’s in, Tori. Get out of there; now. I promise you, someone will come back for Electra.” Rage flared through Tori, dancing in a red haze across her vision. This was the first solid lead they had to finding Electra and he wanted her to abandon it, and her friend, to save her own skin! “Go to hell, Devante,” she hissed, clinging to the chimney’s interior as she worked her way up the stone passage. Voices reached her ears, then, and she paused, tensing. Someone was in the room! The voices drew nearer, getting louder and angrier, and her breath stopped in her lungs. “Check the fireplace,” Carrick’s voice ordered harshly. “That’s probably how the bitch got in, in the first place.” Oh, God. She was a sitting duck, in here! Tori glanced up at the bright sky above the chimney’s opening and closed her eyes. Too far, damn it. She needed a miracle to get out of this one. Miracles, Tori already knew, were in short supply. She’d have to do this on her own. With a deep breath, she moved, racing up the chimney’s interior, her muscles screaming in protest at the intense pace in that cramped confinement. She heard movement below her, and glanced down in time to see a face poke into the opening, and a voice echoed around her. “There she is! Sir, we found her!” “Well, don’t waste time telling me, you imbecile! Get someone up on that roof; now!” Tori didn’t hear the rest, blocking it out as she scrambled out of the chimney and fell, panting, onto the icy slope of the roof. She had to get out of here, before— Vibrations rumbled beneath her cheek and Tori’s heart clenched in panic. Oh, God, she was too late; they found her! Adrenaline shot through her weary muscles, forcing her to her feet, as the rumbling grew stronger. Fear was a remarkable spur, Tori decided as she sprinted toward the far end of the roof, and her egress, just as laser-fire exploded around her. God. She was going to die. Her blood rushing fast and hot in alarm, Tori raced along the ice-covered slate of the chateau’s roof, her booted feet skidding and slipping on the slick incline. Cold, thin air sawed in and out of her

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lungs, the pain of each breath slicing through her chest like knives. Red dots danced before her eyes, and her muscles burned at the unfamiliar altitude. God, she wasn’t going to make it! She wasn’t used to this. A flash of light burst in the air above her, showering hot sparks down on Tori that seared her skin and singed her clothes and hair. Her feet slipped again, sending her perilously closer to the edge of the roof, and the one hundred-fifty-foot long drop over the cliff’s edge. Ahead of her, Tori could make out the dark shadow of the inset where she came up. She was almost there. Another few yards… More flashes of light exploded around her, coming so close that their heat scorched her. A bolt sizzled past her head, missing by less than an inch, and exploded only a few feet in front of her. Tori cried out as the light blinded her and dropped to her knees in a reflexive attempt to shield herself. Without the grips of the SCIDS to provide traction, she slid helplessly toward the edge of the roof and her heart leapt into her throat in panic. Clenching her left hand, she tried frantically to activate the SCIDS. The screech of metal against stone filled her ears as her gloves tried to find purchase on the icy slate, and failed. She was going to fall! Flailing out with her arms, her fingers caught on the molding of the roof’s edge and she hung, suspended over empty space, for one long, terror-filled moment. Then she heard a sickening crack, and the thin stone gave under her weight. Tori closed her eyes, knowing she was dead, even before the slate crumbled beneath her fingers, and she plummeted down the edge of the mountain with a frightened scream.

That scream echoed in Marcos’ heart long after it faded from his ear. Madre de Dios! “Tori!” As he raced toward the blip on his activated tracker, Marcos heard the shrill whistle of wind, and then a sudden, sharp crack, and his heart stalled. No! She had to be alive. He’d never forgive himself if she wasn’t. Marcos gritted his teeth against the urge to scream. He couldn’t believe he let this happen! He’d known, damn it all! He was given his premonitions for a reason – to keep Tori safe – and he failed. Instead of protecting her, he let her rush headlong into danger. Please don’t be dead, querida, he begged silently, as he neared the location indicated on his tracker. His eyes scanned the ground reluctantly, the rush of agony telling him that he already expected to find her broken, dead body lying at the base of the cliff. Only… Marcos’ eyes widened and hope flickered to life in him. Tori wasn’t lying dead at the bottom of the cliff! Relief was short-lived, followed by confusion. Where was she, then? “Tori?” He whispered the query, praying she could hear him. If she’d only respond…

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“Oh, God. Marcos.” Her voice sounded strained, and he swore he heard the crack of pain and tears. But she was alive! That miracle brought Marcos to his knees as wave after wave of relief and joy rushed over him. He thought he’d lost her completely. He drew a shuddering breath, wanting nothing more from life than to hold Tori close and celebrate her life, by showing her just how much he loved her. But, first, he had to find her. “Where are you, carina?” He asked softly. “N-not sure. About fifty feet above the ground, I think.” His eyes closed. Dios; she could still die. No. Marcos’ jaw set as determination shot through him. He wasn’t about to lose her now. “Use your SCIDS,” he instructed in a voice calmer than he felt. “I can’t,” she returned, her voice uneven. “I think something hit the unit up there. There was this blast, and then the whole unit went down.” His heart halted. “The orb?” “Don’t think so.” He heard her grunt of effort. “I think one of those guys had a magnetic disrupter. Probably erased the signal.” He didn’t want to hear this. Tori was alive, but in a danger he couldn’t help her out of. He couldn’t rescue her. Marcos flexed his hands and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. He didn’t like this feeling of helplessness. “Dios.” “I can make it.” The bravado in her voice wavered, then firmed, and Marcos’ pulse sped up. Tori had a tendency to get herself into trouble. Could he trust her to get herself out of it as easily? He swallowed hard as he realized he didn’t have a choice. “How?” “The old-fashioned way, of course,” she returned flippantly, but he heard the undertone of worry in her voice. “The SCIDS claws are out; they just don’t rotate like they’re supposed to. I can use them like standard rock-climbing gear.” Marcos’ heart froze, mid-beat. “Without a back-up line? Are you loco?” “I can do it, damn it.” The tightness in her voice dared him to argue and he knew that would be stupid. She was going to do what she damn well pleased, whether he objected or not. The least he could do, at the moment, was to give her encouragement, rather than criticism. Don’t make her prove herself. “I know you can,” he murmured and held his breath as he heard the sounds of movement, and the slide of rocks, as well as Tori’s labored breathing.

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Eyes still closed, Marcos listened tensely to the uneven sounds of Tori’s descent, and prayed for her safety with everything in him. She swore several times, and he stiffened with fear each time, but, unlike her ascent, he kept his mouth shut. An errant word could get her killed now. Finally, unable to stand the torture of inactivity any longer, Marcos opened his eyes, crossed himself, and looked up. Relief poured through him. Tori was only about twenty feet above him, working her way steadily toward the ground. “Tell me why I didn’t kill Craine while I had the chance?” Marcos’ lips twitched wryly. Well, her personality was very much intact, regardless of her scare. It continued to amaze him, how quickly Tori always bounced back. “Because he doesn’t exist. Now, watch what you’re doing.” “Okay; so why didn’t I kill Carrick, then?” Marcos rolled his eyes. He realized she was venting, but now really wasn’t the time. “Because that would have been a death sentence. Why are you suddenly so determined to kill someone?” “Somebody needs to pay for those damned chalk deposits,” she quipped caustically. A slow grin spread over Marcos’ face as he shook his head in disbelief. Even when her life was in danger, Tori’s sense of humor always prevailed. It was one of her more endearing, and admirable, traits. Looking up again, he saw she was about fifteen feet above him, and suddenly, the distance was too much. He wanted her in his arms now. “Let go. I’ll catch you.” “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She teased, but he wasn’t fooled. He could hear the weariness in her voice. “You’re exhausted, querida.” “Yeah. And I’ll still make it down on my own.” Her tone firmed and she was suddenly grimly serious. Marcos clenched his jaw against arguing his point. He already knew Tori had a chip on her shoulder about her independence. He had to respect that, even if it killed him. So he watched her, instead, silently observing each slow movement, until her feet touched the ground. His control broke then, and he strode up to her, scooped her into his arms, and crushed her mouth beneath his. The kiss was raw, and deep, and the passion of it rocked through him as he drowned all his worry in her taste and scent. She was alive! Marcos battled valiantly against sudden, driving need. He wanted her. Here; now. The need to affirm her life was primal and overpowering. Pressing her against the stone wall of the cliff, his hands pulled at the static lock of her coat, even as he buried his mouth against her warm, fragrant neck.

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“Marcos.” She pulled away, stilling his hands and dragging his attention back to her face. Looking into her eyes, he saw hunger, and a tenderness he knew better than to hope for. “Let’s go home.” Three simple words, and they were enough to make him tremble. Home, he realized, was taking on a different meaning in his eyes. Home was wherever Tori was. And he intended to prove that to her, just as soon as he was sure they were out of danger.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

There was fire everywhere he turned, the smoke and heat so thick with chemicals that it was suffocating him. Above the crackle of flames and the splintering sound of burning wood and breaking glass, he heard a faint scream that didn’t belong to Tori. His brow furrowed. Then, Tori’s voice reached him, begging frantically for someone to move, to get up. Before he could fight his way through the flames, to her side, an explosion rattled the world, and everything was gone in one brilliant flash. Marcos jerked upright in bed, his heart pounding harshly and his breathing ragged. He wanted to close his eyes, to stave off the memory, but he was afraid that would only bring the vision back, and he couldn’t face that. Dios. Instinctively, his gaze went to the woman sleeping peacefully beside him, and a frisson of relief went through him, as his chest tightened with emotion. She was so beautiful, and once again, he was having terrible premonitions of her being ripped away. He wanted to pull her close and never let go; Dios sabe, he wanted to keep her bundled up away from the world, where she wouldn’t get into trouble, or ever again end up in danger. Tori shifted, and Marcos’ gaze slid down her body, admiring her supple curves, until he reached her flat stomach. His chest felt tight as he studied her again, looking for changes he knew he wouldn’t be able to see, even if what she hinted at back in Aspen was true. They’d been back in Vermont for three days, now, and Tori still hadn’t started her period. Marcos’ heart stalled at the possibility that she might be pregnant. He knew the chances were slim, with Tori on birth control; besides, she already admitted that she had irregular cycles. But there was still a chance… Marcos rubbed his face wearily. Speaking of chances, Tori took far too many of them. That entire stunt back at Craine’s had taken ten years off his life. While she seemed entirely recovered from her ordeal, his mind still manufactured nightmares from the grisly images that had assaulted him the entire time she was in Craine’s lair. And he couldn’t hope that, if she was pregnant, she’d slow down.

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Tori wouldn’t let anything slow her down. She was determined to find her friend, now that she had proof ORION had kidnapped Electra Monroe. Tori was convinced the other woman was still alive, clinging to her belief that the necklace she recovered at Craine’s was meant to be proof of Electra’s captivity. Marcos sighed. He wasn’t so sure Electra was still alive. The necklace wasn’t proof of anything, beyond the fact that Electra had, at some point, encountered ORION agents. But he kept his opinions to himself. Until he had definitive proof that Electra was either a captive or dead, or both, he wasn’t about to destroy Tori’s hope. A small smile tugged at his lips as his gaze drifted back to Tori. Against the odds, this woman had come through for him, when no one else could. With a smug little grin, she handed him the Screamer at the Aspen airfield, her eyes alight with pride that she kept her promise once again. Not that he gave a damn about the Screamer, by that point. He just wanted Tori in his arms. And he got everything he wanted. Marcos drew a deep breath as he rose from the bed, careful not to disturb Tori, and pulled on his jeans. At great risk to herself, Tori had fulfilled her part of their original deal. She recovered the Screamer. Now it was his turn to ante up. He frowned, glancing back at the bed’s occupant. He’d waited to see if she’d back out of the deal; he wanted to know she wasn’t bluffing, before he took a step he couldn’t erase. But Tori hadn’t backed out. Instead, she upped the ante on him. Unless he found Electra, and soon, Tori would leave him and follow the leads she’d uncovered at Craine’s alone. And if she did that he’d never see her again, he already knew. Tori Blair would disappear from his life forever and Marcos just couldn’t let that happen. His obligations to Tori were ones he didn’t intend to ever let her cut him loose from. His expression set grimly. It was time to make a call and see if Odin Rothwell’s golden touch applied to people, as well as missions. Marcos’ entire future rested on what Mythos’ undercover agent knew about the missing leader of Medusa’s Hand. Marcos paused briefly to look back at Tori, asleep in his bed, before he headed resolutely toward his office. Whatever he learned next, Tori could never find out that he was less than honest with her, back in the mountains. Guilt roiled in his gut as he realized he lied to her, yet again, because of Mythos. He hated knowing that; hated that he didn’t have a choice. “Forgive me, mi carina,” he whispered, even as he pressed his thumb to the identification lock on the desk drawer where he safeguarded his gadgets, and withdrew a small transmitter box and his Piercer. He told Tori that the final of the ten Piercers was destroyed. Even at the time, lying to her had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, because the truth could help her find her friend. The destroyed Piercer was the cover story Archer had ordered Marcos to use, should anyone ask about that final Piercer.

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Archer didn’t want anyone to know about Mythos’ surveillance of Medusa’s Hand, whom he wanted monitored as a possible threat to President Grant. The truth was the final Piercer belonged to Odin Rothwell, codenamed Midas, who was currently under deep cover with Medusa’s Hand. Of all the Mythos agents, only Archer and Marcos had scrambler-transmitters capable of the coded frequency needed to reach Midas. Archer had instructed Marcos to only use it in an emergency. Well, this was an emergency, as far as he was concerned. Someone needed to find Electra, and fast. Powering up the transmitter, Marcos inserted his Piercer into his right ear and listened to the clicks and buzzes that signaled encrypted contact. His ear filled with the sounds of traffic, and voices, and Marcos frowned. “Rothwell, can you hear me?” “This is Midas.” The voice that filtered back a moment later lacked any emotional inflection at all. It was like talking to a machine. Marcos shifted uneasily as he settled into his seat at the desk. He had no trouble admitting Midas made him uncomfortable. Of all the Mythos agents, only two had ever really bothered him. Bennett Sevastian, codenamed Aries, might be Archer’s right hand, but Marcos worried that he’d go over the deep end, someday. Aries was too bloodthirsty; but even he didn’t concern Marcos as much as this man did. Odin Rothwell was an enigma. Marcos couldn’t recall ever hearing a single word about his past and couldn’t be sure Archer knew anything more. All Marcos knew was that Odin’s totally detached manner would one day be cause for concern. “It’s Minos. Is your location secure? Can you talk?” “I’m alone,” Midas assured him in that same deep, flat voice. “Good. I need information on Electra Monroe.” Dead silence filled his ear, stretching on until Marcos wondered if they’d been cut off. “Midas?” “There’s nothing you need to know about Electra.” The sudden hardness to Midas’ tone surprised Marcos. Maybe there was hope for Rothwell, after all. This was certainly the first time Marcos had ever heard even a hint of human emotion in the man. “I think there is.” “I can’t tell you.” Marcos’ eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t right, here. “Can’t? Or won’t?” “Both.” Odin’s normal dead tone of voice was back. “Do you at least know if she’s dead or alive?” More silence. And then, “I fear the worst.” Fear? Marcos blinked. Why would Midas dread the loss of the leader of Medusa’s Hand? He was supposed to be ascertaining their threat, not worrying over them. “Why?”

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“Medusa’s Hand is falling apart, without her. Darius Cane is building a following among the more restless elements and there’s talk of a new chemical weapon. Electra would never allow either to happen, if she was alive. I’ve been searching for her, with no success.” Marcos leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “I may have somewhere for you to look, Midas.” “Where?” The demand was swift, and the raw note in it had Marcos sitting back in surprise. Midas sounded…protective. “A friend of Electra’s uncovered some evidence in Aspen that tells me ORION has Electra in custody, at the very least. Someone mentioned a man named Cane, as well.” “What evidence?” There was no doubt in Marcos’ mind, now. Midas had more at stake in this than a simple surveillance mission. “She overheard a couple of ORION agents talking about cells and a woman in custody.” “Doesn’t mean anything.” “And she found Electra’s necklace on one of the agents.” Dead silence reigned for a long moment, before Odin swore in an inflectionless way that sent a shiver of apprehension through Marcos. “The only way Electra would let anyone take that necklace is if she’s dead.” Marcos’ heart sank at that assessment, and his eyes closed as he rested his head against the back of the chair. Dios, no. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to be the bearer of this news; not to Tori. He couldn’t bear to see more anguish on her face, or more disillusionment in her eyes, when she realized that even he failed her. “Do you think you can find out for sure?” He asked quietly. “I intend to. If ORION has her, I’ll find her. And if they’ve hurt her, God help them.” “Let me know what you find.” With that, Marcos disconnected transmission, shutting down the encrypting unit and removing his Piercer. He dropped both onto the desk and buried his face in his steepled hands. Dios. Electra was probably dead; someone had to tell Tori she lost another friend. This cross Marcos didn’t think he could bear. “Marcos?” He heard Tori’s hesitant voice, from the doorway, and the pain stabbed deep at that soft query. “It’s the middle of the night. What are you doing up?” Slowly, he raised his eyes to see her standing in the doorway of his office, her lithe form clad in a deep crimson, silk robe, decorated with Oriental symbols. The silk flowed against her skin, revealing as much as it covered, and her dark eyes were luminous in the muted light, and heavy with recent sleep. She took his breath away.

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Like a ghostly apparition, she moved across the room toward him, and his heart stalled, even as his body came to full alert. Stopping beside his chair, Tori’s hand skimmed over his cheek in a tender motion that he never expected from her, as she whispered, “Come back to bed.” Marcos closed his eyes again, drinking in the sensation of her touch, and knew he was about to lose everything precious and beloved in his life. He was about to lose Tori, because he couldn’t lie to her. Not about this. Reaching up, he covered her hand on his cheek, and drew it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on her palm, before nibbling lightly at the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. He heard her tiny gasp, and breathed in the scent of her, knowing it would linger in him long after she was gone. His heart ached, to know she would leave; and yet, he couldn’t hide what he learned from her. “Tori,” he murmured, raising his head to meet her limpid gaze. Dios, he really didn’t want to do this. “I think Electra’s dead.” That was all it took to clear the sensual haze form her eyes. Yanking free of his light grasp, she backed away a few steps, her eyes wide in disbelief and betrayal. “No. She isn’t.” “Querida, come here. You’re—” “No.” Tori suddenly went still, her expression frigid. Marcos felt his heart crack under that icy glare. “I don’t know who told you that lie, Marcos, but Electra is alive.” “Tori—” Her cool gaze raked over him, silencing his protest. “You want to give up.” “That’s not true,” he protested. “But I think we need to face the possibility that we’re already too late.” Her eyes narrowed in a cold scowl. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. I knew you’d use me; just like everyone else.” He gaped at her, stung to the quick. She didn’t honestly believe… “Tori, carina, there’s no point—” “That’s where you’re wrong,” she snapped. “You spend too much time worrying about what-ifs, Devante. That just makes you afraid to live. Well, I’m not afraid, and I refuse to give up. Electra’s alive, and I’ll prove it.” “Damn it, woman!” Marcos roared, launching himself from his seat as all the frustration and pain he held trapped inside exploded. “This isn’t the time for your pride to rear its head! We’re talking about your life, here. I forbid you—”

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Just like that, the coldness dropped from her eyes, replaced by a blazing ferocity that silenced Marcos. Dios. He should have known better than that; he made a real mess this time. “You forbid? Newsflash: you don’t own me, Marcos Devante! I don’t give a damn about your quaint little Columbian traditions, and I sure as hell won’t listen to lectures from a man willing to give up and break a promise!” Marcos’ teeth ground together as he spun away from her, stalking to the window. Maldito sea! He knew this was coming; he was prepared to lose this time. So why did it still hurt so much to hear the accusation and fury in Tori’s voice? “What would you have me do?” He asked quietly. “You have Electra’s necklace, but it proves nothing beyond the fact that Carrick likely knows where she is. My source tells me that the only way she’d let anyone take that necklace from her is if she’s dead. That severely limits how much of my portion of the deal I can keep. Maybe I can get her body back, but I’m not a miracle worker, Tori. I can’t raise the dead.” Silence stretched, and he caught the reflection of movement in the window glass, before she sighed, and he felt the touch of her fingers against his bare back. “I haven’t given up hope that she’s alive, and I won’t let you do it, either. But I don’t want to argue about it. Help me get her back, Marcos. Dead or alive.” It was an olive branch, a peace offering he wasn’t strong enough to turn down. Turning, he enfolded her in his embrace and felt her arms slip around him, her fingers brushing his back. Then, after a long moment, he sighed and released her, knowing it was time to keep his end of the deal, no matter where it led. Moving to the desk, he returned the transmitter and Piercer to the drawer, powered up his computer, and sat, glancing at Tori. “Pull up a seat, querida. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” Tori flashed him a grateful smile that still looked strained. “Let me go get my epad, and we’ll be all set.” As he watched her leave, Marcos’ skin crawled with tension, and he knew things were far from settled, between them. He had the tingling sense that always told him Tori was getting ready to walk into trouble. He only wished he could read her mind; he needed to know what she was up to now. Because now she had the chance of getting more than just herself killed and he couldn’t live with either thought.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

He thought Electra was dead. Tori’s chest tightened with every step she took toward the bedroom and angry heat stung her cheeks. Damn it, she should have seen this coming! She already knew love was too good to be true; she should have realized it wasn’t meant for someone like her. Love could abandon her just as easily as anything else; why hadn’t she realized that? Her jaw clenched in rage. To hell with Marcos Devante! She played by all his rules and did everything he asked of her. She even gave him her heart. Well, she was done being the sap. She didn’t have a heart, anymore. And she was done playing by someone else’s rules; those only got her hurt. No; it was time to play the way Tori Blair played – dirty. To deal with the devil, Tori already knew, you had to keep aces tucked up both your sleeves and leave your heart at the door. In the bedroom, she picked up the phone and her epad, and moved to the bed. She ignored the rumpled sheets, the enveloping scent of Marcos that lingered there, and powered up her epad. Scrolling through her address book she found the number Marcos had given her to contact Merril’s voicemail, should she need anything. She punched the number into the phone and listened to the automated instructions, drawing a breath for courage, until she heard the beep, and said, “This is Tara Preston. I need a copy of the disc in safekeeping at Lab four-twelve in Staten Island forwarded to the following address in Washington DC: Apartment fifty-one twenty-three, at Campus Terraces, Georgetown. I need the disc sent by close of business hours, today.” Hanging up the phone, she breathed a sigh. One down, two more to go. And neither was one she was looking forward to. She was about to break her first promise to the man she loved. She was about to make a deal with the devil they both hated. Tori picked up her epad and called up her bid board e-mail, opening a message to Jeremiah Craine’s account. Craine might be pure fiction, but she knew Carrick would still monitor the account. He

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knew it was his only chance of tracking her. A dark grin tugged at Tori’s lips. She was about to make his job a hell of a lot easier. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she uploaded her message. T-Bird to Craine: The Crown’s still mine. But you can have it, for a songbird. Let’s make a deal. Tapping the send button, she hopped to another site as she waited for a reply. She was only too aware that the best efforts of Minos Enterprises’ scientific minds hadn’t managed to decipher the DNA section of the disc. The day after they returned from Aspen, Marcos had called the lab for a status report, only to learn that they were stumped by the coding. Well, Minos Enterprises might be unable to crack the code, but Tori was sure one organization had the information necessary to read that disc – ORION. With the resources of the Center for Evolutionary Medicine at their disposal, and an elaborate system of Science and Research facilities, she knew there had to be one scientist at ORION who knew how to read the DNA files. Tori grinned. It hadn’t taken long to find that one scientist, either. A computer specialist and the chief researcher on the Anaz-Voohri artifact project, the little Tori had found on Dr. Ally Curran said she might not break the rules, but she’d bend the hell out of them, for the sake of human survival. She was clearly more dedicated to her research than to ORION. Tori closed her eyes and drew a breath, her fingers rising to brush against her necklace. Dr. Curran might be her only chance and Electra’s savior. Picking up the phone again, Tori dialed the number for the ORION research facility in Denver. An automated voice answered on the first ring, instructing, “This is a secure system. Please enter the extension of the party you wish to reach.” With a glance at the list of extensions on her epad, Tori tapped in the appropriate number. The line rang twice, before a distracted feminine voice answered, “Lab Twelve; DNA.” “Is this Dr. Ally Curran?” There was a pause, and then, “Yes. Who is this?” “My name is Tori Blair, Dr. Curran. I have a very sensitive matter to discuss with you. It concerns Anaz-Voohri DNA.” “You have a sample?” There was an edge of excitement to Dr. Curran’s voice. “I might have more than a sample.” “I’m listening.” “I want to make a deal with you, but there are rules,” Tori said, and a wry grin flashed across her face as she realized she sounded just like Marcos. As the thought settled, a pang went through her heart, and wiped the smile from her face. She was leaving Marcos; she didn’t want any reminders. “Ms. Blair? Are you still there?”

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Tori blinked. Damn it, she’d let herself get distracted. “Yeah, I’m here. And it’s Tori.” She cleared her throat, then. “All right. The rules. First off, I’m well-aware that you work for ORION, Dr. Curran—” “Call me Ally, please. And I’m a scientist. I work for ORION because it’s the only place I can actually do some good, Tori, not because I’m a loyal agent.” “That’s good, because our deal only works if you can promise me that no one else will ever learn where you found this. I need to know the information will be used to help humanity, not hurt it. Which means your bosses can’t know. Especially not Carrick.” There was a brief pause, and then a sigh. “All right. As long as it saves lives.” “It will.” Ally was silent for a moment. “Well, you certainly can’t come here, Tori. This is a highly secure facility; there’s no way they wouldn’t instantly know you were here.” Tori grinned. She wasn’t about to tell Ally Curran that she was a thief, and could probably get past any security systems they had on the premises. Instead, she said, “Agreed. I want you to meet me at the abandoned GSS Research facility in Washington DC. It’s in the industrial sector of DC, and since it’s been abandoned for some time, we should be able to work there uninterrupted.” “Sounds doable. When?” “The day after tomorrow, at the latest. I’m on a very tight timetable.” Ally made a small humming noise, as if looking over a schedule. “That’s tight, but I’ll see what I can arrange. If I don’t arrive by noon the day after tomorrow, I won’t be coming at all.” Tori released her breath in a sigh of relief. Something in her had told her she could trust Ally Curran; she was glad to see her instincts weren’t entirely rusty. It was good to know there was at least one sane human being at ORION. “Thanks.” “Thank you, Tori. Any information you can provide on alien DNA might prove the key to human survival.” Tori’s epad beeped, drawing her attention. “I have to go.” “See you Thursday.” Tori hit the power button on the phone, dropping it beside her on the bed as she turned her attention to her epad. Her breath caught as adrenaline shot through her. There was a message from Carrick. Craine to T-Bird: Interested. What’s your deal? Willing her hands and pulse steady, Tori typed, T-Bird to Craine: You want my formula. I want Electra Monroe – alive, unharmed, and free from pursuit or future arrest.

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She’d barely sent when she got a response. Alive and unharmed. Tori’s pulse leapt. This was proof Electra was still alive. Carrick would never agree to that condition if Electra was already dead. Her eyes narrowed then. She wasn’t about to let him call any of the shots in this deal. He might have Electra, but he also knew she could get her friend back without giving up the disc, given time. Alive, unharmed, and with total immunity. There was a long pause after she sent. Then, Total immunity. But you come alone for the exchange. A grim, satisfied smile settled on Tori’s face. She’d expected this, and more. She wasn’t blind. She already knew she was exchanging her freedom for Electra’s. Agreed. Tomorrow. Tori swore beneath her breath. He was still trying to call the shots? She wasn’t about to let that go. This was her show; she was running it. Two days from now. Midnight, Thursday to Friday. Nonnegotiable. Don’t be late. And Carrick’s message box disappeared, leaving Tori to sink back against the headboard with a sigh that was both relief and a tension release. Her eyes closed. It was done; she made her deal. Now, all that remained to be seen was if the devil had any honor at all left in him. She heard the bedroom door open and ignored it. Familiar footsteps crossed the floor, before the mattress shifted, and warm, firm lips brushed tenderly over her neck. She sucked in a breath and her body clenched as her lungs filled with Marcos’ spicy scent. “What are you doing, carina?” His breath brushed along her skin, and she opened her eyes to meet his wary gaze. Her heart stalled. God, she loved him so much; how had he become so important to her? “Nothing,” she lied, surreptitiously powering down the epad. “I was coming right back.” “I have a better idea,” he whispered huskily, taking epad and phone from her and setting them aside, before his mouth came down on hers, and Tori’s pulse stuttered. Her lie stung, but not enough to make her break their embrace. Before the night was out, she’d be leaving for DC, and she already knew she’d never return. This was her good-bye, and her last chance to leave her mark on this man.

Surprise shot through Marcos as Tori’s hands suddenly pressed against his chest as her leg shifted. He rolled to his side on the bed, to regain balance, as concern rushed through him. Had he misinterpreted Tori’s invitation, earlier, or had she changed her mind? Apparently not, he decided with a wry chuckle as Tori pushed him to lie on his back, throwing one leg over his body to straddle him. She took over control without a word. He lay there, looking up into

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her impish grin and wickedly sparkling eyes, and knew he was forever lost. She was his equal, and she completed him in ways he never imagined. He didn’t need to fear showing Tori his darker side, because she’d already seen him at his worst, and still she stayed. She remained unbroken, even in the face of his fury. Though he knew they’d always have differences, he finally understood that those differences were what cemented them most firmly together. Conflict, as much as tenderness, kept their passion alive, and their bond vital. That would never change. “Marry me,” he said, grasping her wandering hands, stilling them above his wildly pounding heart. Her hands slipped loose from his grasp and slid lower, undoing the fastenings of his jeans. Her eyes held his, sparkling with deviltry, and a hint of vulnerability that clenched in Marcos, even as she shook her head. “No.” He tried to scowl. Damn it, he wanted to be furious with her, right now. But her capable hands were shredding his control as they stroked his body boldly, her touch exquisitely painful. “Why not?” He managed, his voice sounding strangled, rather than angry. “I’m not your type, Devante.” Her warm breath fluttered across his hot, engorged flesh, and Marcos tensed. Dios. She wasn’t actually going to… He groaned, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking in surprise and overwhelming pleasure as her warm, wet mouth closed over the tip of his cock, and her tongue laved him. Dios en cielo, how could she think she wasn’t his type? He only had one type, anymore, and that was Tori. No one else touched him like she did; no one else would ever be able to replace what she was in his life. Eyes closed, he savored the feel of her mouth on him, moving eagerly as she nipped and laved his flesh in the most erotic experience of his life. Most women wouldn’t do what she was doing, right now, and the ones that would usually didn’t know what they were doing. He groaned as Tori’s tongue moved up in one long stroke, firmly creating a suction that nearly cost him his last shred of control. Not only did Tori know exactly what she was doing, but she was clearly enjoying herself. Opening his eyes, his heart clenched at the sight of her dark hair spread across his lower body, and he couldn’t resist. Lightly, he touched his hand to her head, sifting his fingers through the midnight strands. Her tongue circled him, just then, and Marcos hissed with pleasure as his muscles clenched. Dios, he was so close. But he didn’t want to come this way. He wanted to be inside her, to feel the sweet spasms of her release. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought the sensations she elicited with her clever mouth, and reached to ease her away. He opened his eyes at her small sound of protest, and smiled into her confused eyes.

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“I want to be in you,” he whispered, pulling her gently up along his body. She needed no urging, and Marcos groaned, his fingers tensing on her thighs as her slick, tight flesh rushed around him. He heard her gasp, and then moan, and her head fell back, thrusting her upper body forward as her back arched into the sensation of their joining. Dios, yes; this was what he wanted. Moving a hand to where they were joined, he slipped a finger into her drenched heat, and rubbed in swift, light circles until her hips flexed and her aroused little pants turned to low, needy moans. She was close; so close. He could feel the tremble of her body around his. Marcos opened his eyes to watch her face as he felt the ripple that preceded her orgasm. Tori’s eyes were open, as well, their obsidian depths drinking in the muted light as they met his. Caught in the heat of her arousal, Marcos fell over the edge with a hard thrust, and felt her body clench as she cried out his name, their bodies locked in one perfect moment in time. As Tori collapsed against his body, Marcos cradled her close, their bodies heaving in unison as they struggled for breath. Finally, as his heart began to slow again, he drew enough breath to murmur, “Marry me, querida. Please.” She stilled against him, and he knew, with shattering clarity, what her answer would be. The irony of it was painful. Refined Elena had dishonored herself with a false promise, built on nothing. But rough-around-the-edges Tori wouldn’t make a promise she couldn’t keep, not even with the chance of a child who’d upend her gypsy existence. And, he realized with a pang, Tori couldn’t promise him her heart. Steeling himself, he met her dark eyes and saw the answer there, just before she whispered, “No.”

Her denial echoed in Tori’s head long after Marcos finally fell asleep and that one word plagued her. Even worse, she couldn’t figure out why Marcos had asked, in the first place. Had he merely been caught up in the moment? Or was it the whole baby issue – still unconfirmed, though she supposed she should look into it soon – that was bothering his Catholic morals? Slipping from Marcos’ arms, she rose and moved to the closet, carefully removing her pack and filling it with her few articles of clothing. A frown slid over her face as she sealed up the bag. She had just enough stuff to fit in one backpack, and more of that was gear for the job than personal items. When had her existence become so gypsy, and why was it only recently starting to bother her? Marcos’ words came back to her, but she shrugged them away. She had a job to do. She promised herself she wouldn’t lose another friend, and she’d do whatever it took to get Electra back. She wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly why Carrick had demanded she come alone. That was why she turned Marcos down, without even an explanation. She couldn’t tell him the truth, or he’d flip; and she wouldn’t make him a promise she couldn’t keep. And she couldn’t keep that one, because Tori Blair was about to disappear.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Marcos awoke with a jolt as the sensation of something terribly wrong crawled up his spine. Glancing over, he realized that the bed beside him was empty, and his chest constricted painfully. He didn’t need to search the house to know that Tori was gone. Throwing aside the covers, he rose and yanked on his clothes, his anger rising with every moment that passed. He knew she’d leave, but he never expected her to sneak out of his bed like she had. Even Elena had never done anything so underhanded. Marcos boiled with fury. He expected – he deserved, damn it – a confrontation, and the chance to argue his logic. He deserved the chance to convince her to stay. The bedside phone chirped, and he snatched it up with a gruff, “Devante.” “It’s Merril. I passed along that copy request, but I do have a question about the shipping instructions.” Marcos blinked, and rubbed his face. He couldn’t recall any copy request, for anything. He hadn’t had time to request much of anything since he and Tori had returned from Aspen. “What are you talking about?” “Ms. Preston left me a voicemail this morning for a copy of the disc she supplied our research facility. I was wondering why she requested it be forwarded to a Georgetown address, rather than sent to our facility in Alexandria.” Tori. Marcos froze as disbelief and dread plunged through him. He could think of only one reason Tori would want a copy of the disc that was her rightful property. She didn’t want him to know she’d taken it. His mind flashed over last night and he bit back an oath as he recalled the almost guilty light in Tori’s eyes when she realized he’d come into the bedroom. She had the phone and her epad. He should have known something was up. Dios. Marcos’ eyes closed and he rubbed the back of his neck as he tasted bile. There was only one reason Tori would go to all this trouble. She made a deal with Carrick.

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“I’ll find out, Merril,” he answered his assistant quietly, as his gut roiled. He could follow Tori easily, thanks to the tracker he imbedded in her necklace. But once she handed over that disc, it was as good as gone, if he didn’t do something fast. “Put a tracker on the disc before it’s sent, would you? I want to follow its movement.” “Right away.” Marcos hung up the phone and stood there, his head hanging and his breath coming sharply as his hands clenched in shaking fists. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, right now. On the one hand, he was so mad he could throttle Tori with his own hands; but, on the other, he loved her so much he was terrified for her safety. He’d never been this confused in his life. He was used to black and white, right and wrong. Tori bent all those rules to breaking. The only thing he still knew to be a certainty was that he had to find her, before she got in trouble again. Lifting his right arm, he activated the tracking unit in his watch, and a grim smile twitched at his lips as he watched the motion of the bright green dot moving across the miniature map. As long as Tori didn’t remove her pendant – which she’d never done in all the time he’d known her – he could track her wherever she went in DC. He was going to find her, he decided resolutely as he headed for the landtrans. He was going to track her down, and bring her home; and, once he had her here, he’d spend however long it took to convince Tori Blair to be his wife. If she thought he’d given up last night, she was greatly mistaken.

***

Tori stepped into the empty lab and flipped on the power, looking around as the grid came online. Everything was covered in a thick film of dust. It was quite evident, from the cobwebs decorating more than one crevice and the scattered remains of a bird’s nest near one partially opened window, that no amount of technology could deter Mother Nature long. This place hadn’t been used in years. A small, satisfied grin crossed Tori’s face. Perfect. Footsteps in the corridor drew her attention, and Tori froze, listening to the cadence. Short, quick strides. Determined, but businesslike, tempo. Light impact and definitely a feminine quality to the percussion. Probably high heels. Tori relaxed with a smile. It must be Dr. Curran. A moment later, the lab door opened, and Tori turned to face the woman standing there with a smile. Tousled blonde curls framed Dr. Ally Curran’s face, and thick, golden lashes accented her large green eyes. She was taller than Tori by several inches, but that was partially thanks to the inch-and-a-half spiked heels she wore. She was slim, but curvy, and dressed in a very preppy, but highly impractical,

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skirt and blouse ensemble. Tori bit back a laugh. Why was it she kept getting thrown in with these prim, polished types? A pang hit her out of nowhere as she realized this was probably exactly the type of woman Marcos would love. On a whim, he might have asked Tori to marry him, but ultimately, it would be a woman like Ally Curran who would gain that place. Men like Marcos Devante didn’t marry women like Tori. Jealousy slashed through her; she could very easily hate this woman. Then Ally smiled – a broad, open grin that was full of friendly warmth and a certain naïve innocence – and Tori knew she couldn’t hate her. Ally was one of those nice people who made the world a better place just by living. “Dr. Curran, I presume,” Tori said easily, returning the grin. “It’s Ally, but yes,” she said, striding forward with one hand extended. Tori nearly laughed. This woman had a hell of a lot to learn about the world outside her lab! “You must be Tori Blair.” “In the flesh.” Tori shook her hand, feeling awkward with the formal gesture. “You ready to get started?” Ally’s eyes danced with excitement, like a little kid at Christmas. “You bet. Are you going to tell me why you brought me here?” As she studied Ally’s eager expression, Tori relaxed completely. Ally Curran’s eyes were clear and forthright in a way that said she didn’t even know how to play games. Ally was unabashedly curious, and not the least bit concerned with what she gained in the deal. Reaching into her jacket pocket, Tori withdrew the disc she retrieved at her Georgetown safe house and handed it to Ally. “I, um, came into possession of this disc several months ago, in Paris. With the help of a friend, I was able to open part of the disc’s contents, but the formulas on that part of the disc, and the encryption on the other half, have been stumping even the researchers at Minos Enterprises. I was hoping you might be able to help.” “Intriguing.” Ally’s grin widened as she took the disc and moved toward the room’s computer terminal. Glancing pointedly at Tori, she said, “This could take a while.” Tori grinned. She didn’t need another hint; she got the drift. Ally worked best solo. Tori could respect that, preferring to work alone, as well. “I’ll take a tour of the building, and come back to check in, later.” And, as she strode from the room to explore the facility, Tori grinned to herself. She wasn’t worried about Ally disappearing with the disc. That woman was even more honest, if that was possible, than Marcos. And Tori had every confidence Ally could break the coding; almost as if some part of her knew that was Ally’s function. She didn’t even stop to consider how or why she knew that, or why she

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had so much faith in a woman she only just met. Something in her told Tori that Ally Curran held the key to all the disc’s secrets.

An hour later, Tori meandered back toward the lab, to check on Ally’s progress. She stepped into the corridor, just as a high-pitched squeal made her nearly jump out of her skin. Heart pounding in frightened surprise, she clutched her chest, drawing in deep breaths, until the source of the continuing wail broke through her fright. Dear God…that was the fire alarm! Tori raced down the corridor, every breath growing hotter, until each one tasted of smoke and heat, and little else. Tori’s heart hammered with dread and she knew. The lab. The fire had started in the lab. As she neared the door, she smelled burning chemicals, and skidded to a halt as horror crashed through her. Ally was still in there! Fighting against the heat and flames, Tori shoved through the searing metal doors, wrapping her jacket half over her head to cut the smoke and protect herself from the flames as she put every ounce of her enhanced senses into her rescue effort. “Ally! Where are you?” Tori choked out the cry, her lungs stinging with the toxic fumes that had gathered here in the lab. “Ally!” Nothing. Just the roaring crackle of flames and the shuddering sound of the building coming down around them. Tori drew in a shallow breath, and nearly doubled over, coughing. She dropped to her knees and crawled painfully across the burning floor, searching for the other woman. She had to find Ally! Ally Curran was the only person Tori knew of who could decipher the disc and she’d risked her career, and her life, to come to Tori’s aid. Tori nearly froze as a thought plunged through her. God, this wasn’t her fault, again, was it? There was a faint coughing and Tori followed the sound as she fought her way through the blaze, feeling it bite at her skin as the smell of singed hair and flesh assaulted her. A breath of relief left her as she saw the slim form, encased in a dirty white blouse and dark skirt. Ally was laying facedown on the floor, her platinum blonde curls spilling across her face. “Ally!” Tori scrambled to the scientist’s side, fear cracking her voice as she pleaded, “C’mon. You have to wake up! We’ve got to get out of here!” No response. Tori shook her. Still nothing. God, what was she going to do? Normally, she could summon her enhanced strength and carry Ally over her shoulders. But breathing in the burning chemicals weakened her, making her feel dizzy and tired. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. But Tori’s survival instincts were stronger than the fire’s will. She already knew that if she stopped long enough to rest, she’d be dead.

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“Come on!” She jerked Ally over onto her back, shaking her harder. “Wake up, damn it!” Ally gasped, and turned on her side, doubling up as she coughed harshly. Finally, she turned a blank, frightened gaze on Tori. “What—?” “On your feet, Doc. This building’s falling down around us!” As if to emphasize her point, there was a loud cracking sound, and then an even louder crash, from behind them. Tori whipped her head around to stare in horror at the inferno that had been their only egress from the burning lab. They were trapped!

***

“Emergency vehicles have been dispatched from the surrounding metroplex, but authorities are predicting devastation in the millions. Casualties are projected in the thousands as the fire continues to spread…” Marcos slumped back in the landtrans, a sharp pain slashing through his chest as he stared at the epad screen, and the fire that engulfed much of what had, until a few hours ago, been Washington DC. Tori. The medallion around his neck began to glow, and a fist of dread closed in his gut. He didn’t want to talk to Archer, or anyone, right now. He was too raw, his heart and soul bleeding for the loss he suffered. He glanced hopefully toward his watch again, but the tracker beeped steadily, finding nothing. Tori was gone. Numbly, he reached into his jacket and extracted his Mythos phone, opening the connection. “Devante.” “So. You saw the news, I take it.” Marcos closed his eyes, struggling against the overwhelming misery that nearly choked him. “Sí.” There was silence, and then, “Marcos, was it her?” “No.” The word left him in barely more than a whisper. Had he really thought Elena’s betrayal had hurt? He fought down a bleak laugh. Losing Tori was beyond agonizing. “Tori… Tori’s power was electromagnetic. She didn’t start this.” “Was?” Marcos’ throat closed. She was gone; and he never even told her he loved her, damn it all. He was a fool! “She’s gone, Archer.” “Son of a bitch. I told you to bring her in. She was—”

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“Was the woman I loved, Archer,” he snapped, sick of hearing how Tori was a threat. None of them knew her like he did. None of them knew how she risked her own life and practically demanded that he kill her, rather than let her kill ever again. His chest tightened as he realized she finally got her wish, even without his help. Dios sacro! He couldn’t bear the thought. “Would you react any differently if it was Tierney Grant?” Uneasy silence reigned for several long moments. And then, in a contrite voice, Archer muttered, “Sorry, Marcos.” There was nothing left to say. Marcos punched the disconnect button and tossed the unit onto the seat beside him, no longer caring as he buried his burning eyes in the heels of his hands and prayed as he never had before. Tori, mi carina. Speak to me, please. A sudden silence, followed by a loud beep, startled him. Marcos jerked his head up, his eyes going to the tracker as his heart pounded harshly. A steady, bright pin dot of light appeared, moving away from the flames and Marcos’ heart skipped several beats. Tori was alive!

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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Tori stood on the tarmac of the Baltimore airfield and watched Ally’s transport disappear into the clouds, heading back to Denver with the disc. She sighed in relief, knowing that Ally would come through for her. They barely escaped that blaze with their lives and the disc, and they wouldn’t have escaped at all, had it not been for Ally’s knowledge of GSS research facilities. After all, who’d have ever thought the Global Security Sector would be paranoid enough to build security transfer tunnels throughout the city? Those tunnels had saved her and Ally’s lives, and kept them from being spotted by ORION until they got out of the city. Tori grinned, feeling the rush of adrenaline still pumping through her body. There was nothing quite like a little danger to get the blood going, though she wasn’t sure Ally agreed with that. The other woman had still looked shaky and pale when she boarded the transport and Tori’d bet her right eye that Ally never wanted to go on another adventure in her sheltered life. Tori chuckled fondly. Poor little lab rat; she didn’t know what she was missing. “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Tori whipped around at the sound of that voice, her eyes wide in shock, to find her escape blocked by a group of men in identical ORION uniforms. And then she saw it. “My God,” she breathed, staring past the men in horror, her gaze fixed on the dark cloud of smoke, and the glow of a city on fire. Half of DC must have gone up in that blaze! Her gut roiled sickeningly at the thought of how many lives must already be lost. Bleakly, Tori realized there was nothing she could do about the fire. She needed everything at her disposal to deal with the threat in front of her. Drawing on every ounce of her bravado, her lips twisted in a wry grin. “Smarter than you, at any rate. What’s up, boys?” One man stepped forward and Tori swallowed hard as her gaze moved up along his huge frame, and landed on his face. Dread stalled her breath. She knew this guy! His nose was crooked from where

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she broke it in Paris and he bore the trademark burn scar of a stunweb across his face. This was Branson, the man who hated her kind. She should be terrified. Instead, Tori summoned up her cockiest grin. “How’s your face, Branson?” He scowled, his eyes fixed on her with a murderous glare. “General Carrick wants to see you, bitch.” A mixture of anger and humor combined in Tori, and her eyes glittered with challenge. She knew Carrick wouldn’t be satisfied with just the disc. She did worse than prick him, at the chateau; she stabbed his pride. Carrick wouldn’t soon forget, or forgive, that insult. “Where’s Electra?” She demanded, raising her chin proudly. “I’m not going anywhere until I see that Carrick’s kept his end of the bargain.” Branson’s scowl darkened. “ORION doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, or hybrids!” He snapped, his glare telling her he thought she was lower than slime on the food chain. “Arrest her.” As the other men moved forward, Tori did a split-second headcount. Seven of them, not including Branson. Great. These guys had certainly learned, since Paris. They clearly weren’t taking any chances; there was no way she’d be able to escape them all. Four, maybe five, she could handle; but that still left at least three who could bring her down. A voice whispered along the edge of her consciousness, and her hand went instinctively to the pouch strapped around her waist. Desperate times called for desperate measures and just knowing she had a last resort gave Tori courage. She could do this. Falling into a fighting stance as she heard the roar of an incoming transport, Tori grinned wickedly, gesturing her opponents forward with a flick of her hand. “Come and get me, boys.”

Marcos circled the Baltimore airfield twice, sure his tracker must be malfunctioning. According to the unit, Tori should be directly beneath his position, but all he could see was an open hanger and empty tarmac. His heart sank and his chest grew tight. Why had he bothered hoping? He was already too late. Tori had probably lost her necklace in transit and he was picking up that signal. A flash of light burst from the open hanger doors and Marcos straightened, his hands clenching on the controls. That looked like laser fire! The only way anyone would be firing a laser was if they were in the middle of battle. A brief, wry grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. If there was one thing he learned over the past couple of months, it was that anywhere there was a fight in progress, he was likely to find Tori right in the middle of it. Maneuvering the private transport in for a landing with deft familiarity, he left the engine primed as he jumped to the ground, his hand going to the pocket of his jacket, where the Screamer rested. Having premonitions had its advantages. Knowing that Tori was walking into trouble again, he realized she was

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right; there was no better way to test the Screamer’s viability than under combat conditions. He wasn’t about to take any chances this time. Tori’s life was at stake. He raced across the tarmac toward the hanger, where he flattened himself against the outside wall, Screamer at the ready. Inching along the wall, he drew a breath as he reached the open doorway and peered cautiously around the edge. What he saw was enough to make his blood congeal. Tori, her face bloody and her clothes torn, was struggling against the strangling grasp of a big man with a sinister grin on his equally bloody face. Her hands clawed at his wrists and her feet kicked in empty air. Marcos’ blood ran hot with fury as he spun around the edge and into the fray, aiming the Screamer at the bigger man with a growled, “Let her go. Now.” The ORION agent jerked around in surprise, giving Marcos all the opening he needed. Depressing the release, he watched the ripple of air, heard the high-pitched tone, and knew the instant the beam impacted by the sudden jolt that went through the other man’s body, just before Tori’s foot connected with his groin, sending the bastard sprawling. “Marcos! Look out!” Tori’s hoarse cry sent him spinning, just in time to see another man rushing him. Dios, how many men did they think they needed? Bringing the Screamer around, he watched another agent go down, writhing in agony. They were large men; the damage would be much less severe, but he didn’t imagine it was any less painful. Not that Marcos could make himself care. They’d live; it was more than they deserved, for trying to kill Tori. Any damage the Screamer had done was certainly reversible. Death wasn’t. His gaze flying back to Tori, he suddenly understood why there were so many ORION agents, and he bit back a wry laugh. He knew Tori was a hellcat, but he’d never seen her under combat conditions before. She was breathtaking and lethal. Spinning in a wide, mid-air kick, she sent two agents flying backward to bounce off the wall and go down, even as she landed with catlike grace, crouched close to the concrete floor. Another agent fell to Marcos’ Screamer as the man tried to sneak up behind Tori while she quickly dispatched two more, one with a series of sharp blows to the chest that likely broke bones, and the second with a kidney shot that probably cost him the organ, knowing Tori. She turned toward him then, and Marcos’ heart swelled with emotion. She was bloody, and disheveled, and still, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was his. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life convincing her, he was going to claim this woman as his own before God. In his heart, she already was his partner, his woman…his wife. “Marcos!” Her cry registered, a split-second before something crashed into his head from behind, and he lost his grip on the Screamer. Pain lanced through his head, sending him to his knees, and he watched helplessly as the Screamer spun across the floor, until it stopped under the toe of an ORION-

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issue boot. Glancing up, he saw the man’s scarred, bloody face and crooked nose, and knew this man had been leader of this group of thugs. The man’s dark eyes glittered with scorn as they touched on Marcos, and then overflowed with hate as they shifted to Tori. Dios! He intended to kill her! Before Marcos could force his half-numb body to move, the other man lifted a hand, wiped blood from his face, and sneered, “Time to pay up, bitch!” The weapon, aimed at Tori, discharged, and the sonic blast, calibrated to take out a much larger man, sent her flying off her feet and back, until she slammed into the far wall and slid to the floor, unconscious and twitching spasmodically. “Tori!” Her name rasped from Marcos, as blind, red rage engulfed his vision, propelling him past all pain. Surging to his feet with a furious roar, he drove his fist into the bigger man’s face and sent him sprawling to the tarmac with a satisfying crunch of bones. Setting his foot on the ORION agent’s throat, Marcos pressed the heel of his shoe against the man’s windpipe and snarled, “Hijo de puta! She came to you under a flag of truce and you attacked her, didn’t you?” The man gasped. “Orders.” “Whose?” The man struggled, his broken nose still sending rivulets of blood down his face. “Whose?” Marcos demanded savagely. He didn’t have any patience for games. He wanted to go to Tori, make sure she was alive. But this had to come first, and he hated that. “C-Carrick.” With a growled oath, Marcos reached down and dragged the man from the ground by his uniform shirt. “You go back to Carrick, and you give him a message from Marcos Devante. Tell him, if you’ve killed my woman, or my child, I’ll personally hunt him, and you, down and inflict a wound for every wound the two of you have dealt. I’ll see you both burn in hell.” With a disgusted shove, he pushed the man toward the door, watching him scramble away beneath a hard glare. Shoving the Screamer into his pocket, Marcos turned toward where Tori lay, twitching silently. His eyes closed, and he prayed he wasn’t already too late.

God. This had to be what it felt like to die. She always knew all that talk about dying peacefully, with no more suffering, was a bunch of bunk. Excruciating pain radiated through every cell of her body and exploded like a nuclear bomb in her head. Eyes squeezed shut, she bit down on the inside of her cheek to hold in her scream of agony. She never hurt so badly in her life! “Tori.” Through the fog of pain, she swore she heard Marcos’ voice, low with a different kind of distress. “Dios.”

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Oh, God. He was still here. He came after her. He actually tracked her down, with no ulterior motive; their deal was done. He found her, just like he promised her he would, and he fought by her side, unquestioning that she was in the right. She felt a sharp prick in her arm, before his voice whispered against her ear. “This will help with the pain, querida. Just rest. I’ll take care of you.” Tears stung her eyes and slipped loose, to run burning trails over her face. God, she didn’t want to die. She wanted Marcos; she was a fool to leave him. Desperate for one last glimpse of him, she forced her eyes open, and misery stabbed through her chest as she saw the raw anguish on his face. She tried to move her hand, to touch him a final time, but her limbs felt weighted and useless. Her lungs grew heavier by the second and her head felt like her brain was swelling. But she had one thing left to do, to tell Marcos, before she gave in to the growing darkness. Struggling for strength, she met his distraught olivebrown eyes and whispered, “I love you, Marcos.” The stunned look that crossed his stern features was the last thing she saw, before the world wavered, and everything went black.

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CHAPTER THIRTY

“Dios! Be careful! Are you trying to kill her?” The gruff, barked command sank through the cottony haze in Tori’s brain, and she wanted to smile. If she could remember now to make her lips move, she would. Blinding pain sliced through her brain as something jolted her, and she couldn’t hold back the scream of agony that worked loose from her throat. God, Marcos was right! They were trying to kill her! She cried out again, this time for him; she needed him to make them – whoever they were – stop. “Shh, querida.” Marcos’ voice filtered through the pain, dulling it for a second as soothing warmth flowed through her. “I’m right here. Lay still; they’re almost done.” Her teeth clenched against the pain, Tori forced her heavy lids open, and snapped them shut again as a bright light glared right through her. Goddamn, that hurt! Squinting her eyes open slightly, she turned her head in slow millimeters and saw blurry images, with one closer to her than the rest. Panic lunged through her. “My eyes!” She managed in a hoarse rasp. “What’s happened to my eyes? Why can’t I see?” “Shh.” Marcos’ warm hand brushed her face briefly. “Calm down, carina. It’s only temporary. The Screamer shut down all the nanotechnology in your body, including your enhanced eyesight. When the nanotech shut down, it confused your brain; it doesn’t know how to accept the images without the nanotech, because you had the procedure so young.” Her breath stalled as her brain pieced what he was saying together in a fuzzy string of logic. Oh God. If the Screamer shut down all the nanotechnology in her, then… “Marcos, the orb! It—” “Is safely locked away in a blast container. Just stay still, carina, and let the doctors work.” Doctors? A fresh wave of panic washed through her, and Tori struggled weakly. God, her body felt like lead. “No doctors…”

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“Behave,” he warned her quietly, his voice tinged with humor. “These aren’t those kind of doctors.

No hospital on the planet, CEM included, has the technology necessary to reverse

nanotechnological failure.” She blinked at the blurry blob hovering near her face, assuming it was Marcos. “Then where—?” “This is my research facility. These doctors are the scientists who worked on the Screamer, and the reversal process.” He leaned closer, and she began to make out the shape of his face, even as his warm breath danced across her cheek. “It’s going to be painful, carina; I can’t stop that. But I’ll be right here, beside you. I won’t leave you.” And, as he drew away, she saw his blurred nod and felt a series of sharp jabs, followed by a jolting pain that brought her body up off of the bed. Tori ground her teeth hard against a scream as the torture went on and on, until she swore she’d rather have died than endure this torture. The only thought that gave her any comfort was the fact she wasn’t alone. Marcos was there; she could sense his presence, and knew this had to be killing him, as well. She would endure, and she would live, because he was here, fighting by her side once again.

***

There was an annoying racket going on beside her head. Sounded like turtle doves in heat. Tori grinned, her eyes still closed, as she realized that sound was pigeons. If she wanted proof that the nightmare was over, she didn’t suppose there was a better wake-up call than pigeons. Nobody ever dreamed of pigeons, did they? She stifled a small laugh. “Open your eyes, sleepyhead.” A warm, familiar voice murmured near her ear, and Tori’s grin widened. “Give me one good reason why I should, Devante,” she quipped, stretching luxuriantly. A twinge ran up her arms and disappeared. Not bad. Considering the rough shape she was probably in when she got here, she felt damned good. Marcos’ chuckle sent a warm shiver through her and she felt his fingertips against her face. “Well, your personality’s intact, at any rate. Welcome back, querida.” Tori opened her eyes and hissed as light exploded in her face. Squinting against the stream of sunlight that splashed over her face, she heard quick movement, and the bright light dimmed. “Sorry.”

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Opening her eyes again, Tori drank in the sight of Marcos as he returned to perch on the edge of her bed, an apologetic light in his tender eyes. Her heart stumbled. She never saw a more welcome sight in her life. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she whispered, lifting her hand in silent plea. She needed him to touch her; she needed to know this was real. The knowledge that she was nearly torn from him forever brought stinging pressure to her aching eyes, and the thought that he might hate her for what she did opened the dam. Hot tears rolled down her face, and her entire body trembled with the heartache of her own stupidity. “Marcos, I… I…” “Shh. You did what you felt you had to, carina.” “But…” She sucked in a breath, and whispered, “I hurt you.” “No apologies, Tori. No regrets.” He took the hand she held out, lifting it to his lips and pressing gentle kisses to the inside of her wrist. “The past is over. Fin. Let it go.” She blinked at him, stunned. This was the man who held onto a failed engagement and betrayal for three years? No way in hell. “Okay. Very funny; but the game’s over. Who are you really, and what have you done with Marcos?” His lips twitched and she saw humor dancing in his eyes. He leaned in, brushing his lips over her neck in a way that sent Tori’s heart into palpitations. “I assure you, mi carina, it is most definitely me.” “Guess so,” she managed breathlessly. Then, pulling away enough to look him over, she frowned. There was something different about Marcos. He looked relaxed, and…happy. “So, why the one-eighty? I betrayed you, Marcos. I walked out of the house with no intention of ever returning! How can you say it doesn’t matter?” “It doesn’t matter,” he assured her, a smile sliding over his face and taking her breath away, even as he planted a kiss on the palm of her hand. “I know why you did it, and it was partly my fault. I didn’t tell you what I knew. I didn’t tell you that I already asked someone to find Electra; someone who knows how to do what I can’t do. I gave him the information you found in Aspen, and he’s going to keep me informed on what he finds.” Tori’s eyes closed as shame rushed through her. Marcos hadn’t given up on her, or Electra. Why had she ever thought he would? No one was more dedicated to his word, and his honor, than Marcos Devante. She already knew that, and still, she’d doubted him. “Marcos, I’m sorry…” “I am, too,” he murmured, and she watched the flash of pain in his eyes. “I should have told you. I’m at least partially to blame for your leaving, and for what happened in DC.” Tori blinked, and shook her head. “I still don’t understand how you can be so calm about all this.”

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“Several reasons,” he replied gently, pressing another kiss to her palm, and then closing her fingers around it. His eyes were lit in a way she couldn’t quite recall having ever seen them, and her heart pounded harshly in suspense. When he didn’t respond after several moments of silence, anticipation turned to annoyance. “Those would be?” He chuckled. “So impatient…” “Humor me; I’ve just been through hell.” That wiped the smile from his face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner, carina.” “Marcos.” “Sí?” “Quit stalling. Reasons?” He smiled again, his eyes warm. “You love me.” Tori froze as shock and fear poured through her. What was he saying? “You’re saying you don’t hate me because I love you? That’s some pretty warped logic, even for you, Devante.” “Not really.” He massaged her hand, still in his grasp. “Because I love you, too.” Tori’s heart stalled. Every drop of blood must have drained from her head, because she felt dizzy and she was hallucinating. Or maybe they messed up the process when they rewired her, and she just wasn’t hearing right. “Excuse me?” He leaned over her, planting a soft, tender kiss on her lips. “I love you, Tori.” Okay, so she hadn’t heard wrong. She was still hallucinating. Had to be. Tori managed a strangled-sounding laugh. “This is insane. I thought I was crazy enough to fall for you. But there’s just no way… Marcos, you’re still in love with Elena! There’s no way—” “I agree,” he cut her off, his tone brisk and his eyes flaring. “There’s no way I was ever in love with Elena. She was simply what I’d convinced myself I should be looking for. She was a woman of breeding, who knew all about privilege and social graces, and she claimed to need my protection.” “Exactly.” It hurt to admit that, but it was the truth. Elena Santos was everything Marcos wanted in a woman. “But she wasn’t my match,” he continued, undaunted. “She was just another facet of my family; another person who was draining me dry from the inside. The truth is, I stopped smiling, stopped feeling, a long time before Elena called off the wedding. If I let her see everything I kept inside, she’d have run, screaming, long before she did.” His fingers brushed her cheek, and his tender smile bloomed. “But not you. You’ve stuck it out, through the worst. You bring me alive, carina; you’ve done that from the

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moment I met you, whether I wanted it or not. You’re my perfect match, Tori, and I think I probably fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you.” Tori stared at him, shock and disbelief rattling around in her head. This was insane. Plain and simple. As badly as she wanted to believe his words, as much as she loved him, she couldn’t let him make the mistake of believing he could ever love her. She was all wrong for him. “We couldn’t be more opposite, Marcos.” “Exactamente. We compliment each other.” “I’m a thief.” He sighed, his gaze dropping to the hand he held, before he nodded. “I know. I might not exactly agree with what you do for a living, but I think I begin to see the necessity of people like you. Perhaps we can reach a compromise, in time.” Her heart tripped. He wanted to deal. That in itself was amazing; but there were more pitfalls. “I’m not Catholic.” “Does it look like I care?” He asked, lifting one eyebrow in query. Tori blinked. In all honesty, her religious convictions had never come up. He never even asked. Before, she assumed it didn’t matter because he wasn’t planning on keeping her around long. But, with his declaration, she was forced to stop and re-evaluate. He hadn’t asked because he already knew, and he hadn’t cared that she wasn’t Catholic. Religion wasn’t going to be an issue. “I’m temperamental and stubborn—” His grin, slashing across his face and bringing out that dimple of his again, nearly stopped her heart. God, he wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’ve noticed, believe me. I wouldn’t have you any other way, carina.” She rolled her eyes, exasperated. He had an answer for everything! “That does it! You’re certifiable!” She glared at him as he laughed, the sound so deep and rich it skittered along her body, making her ache with want. She hated that he could do that. “Give me one good reason why we should stay together, Devante.” “Love,” he said easily, moving a little closer to her. “They say love’s fickle, you know.” He raised a skeptical brow at her. “You think what you feel for me will pass?” She rolled her eyes again, fighting the urge to smack him. He was turning her words around on her, damn him! “Well?” He was still watching her. She sighed and, grudgingly, admitted, “No.”

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“Then what’s the problem?” She met his eyes in surprise. Couldn’t he see it? “I don’t want you to feel you need to stay, if you don’t want to. I don’t want you telling me things just because you think I want to hear them.” He shook his head, his eyes flashing with a mixture of humor and annoyance. “You’re a hard sell, Blair. All right, you want the truth? I never told Elena I loved her. Not really. Those aren’t words I use lightly.” She swallowed hard at that and faced another hard truth. “But is it enough, Marcos?” He leaned in, that light back in his eyes. “You don’t think love’s enough of a reason to stay together? Then how about the baby?” Tori stilled with a gasp. God. He wasn’t actually trying that tactic on her! “We don’t even have any proof I am—” “Pregnant? We do, now. I had a blood test run when I brought you here. We had to be sure, to know if the doctors needed to adjust the protocol. They did.” Tori’s eyes went wide and her heart stalled completely. Then, sucking in a sharp breath, she felt a laugh that was half joy, half panic, bubble up inside her. Why was she so surprised? She knew, deep inside, as soon as she realized her period was late. “Oh, God. What am I going to do?” Marcos brushed a light kiss over her forehead, and squeezed her hand gently. “Come home to Vermont with me, when the doctors release you. Let me take care of you, and our child. Let me love you.” Elation trickled through her panic and Tori turned her hand up into Marcos’ grasp, grinning at him as she squeezed his hand back. “I’m still not going to marry you, Devante.” He chuckled, bending to kiss her lips. “As long as you love me, carina, the rest can come later.” Much later, if she had anything to say about it, Tori thought as she pulled Marcos down for another, more intense kiss. Assured that Marcos would only put the most capable of men on the task of finding Electra, Tori knew it was time to let go of the reins, and accept that, for once, she couldn’t do it alone. That was, after all, part of loving someone.