Grace Moss dropped down behind a parked car before she was seen, ignoring the beep from a passing bus because she was in its lane. Duck walking awkwardly around to the back of it, she peered around the bumper and watched as the three men she'd been following walked up to the entrance of a tall, industrial looking building.
The last one to enter paused briefly on the threshold and took a quick look behind him. He had a small, black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
She barely stopped herself from squealing with happiness when she spotted it. Until now, she hadn't been able to risk getting close enough to them in the darkness to be able to see if they still had it.
As if he could sense her watching, he frowned suspiciously and gripped the bag tighter to his side. But after another quick scan of the empty street, he turned and followed his friends inside.
Taking off as fast as she could go in her favorite strappy sandals with the wedge heels, she ran to the door and stuck her arm inside right before it closed and locked.
She winced as the heavy steel smashed against her forearm, and stuck her sandaled foot in to share some of the burden. Dammit, that was gonna leave one hell of a bruise.
If she were any kind of a witch worth her salt at all, she'd be able to open that heavy door with nothing but a thought. But unfortunately, she was pretty damn useless as far as witches went. Even her family thought so. Why else would her parents have risked death to bring her here when the new High Priest had taken over? Other than to hide their worthless daughter where no one would find her?
Only she and her mother had made it out. Her father had died the day they'd escaped the coven.
She stayed as she was for a few heartbeats, wanting to be sure no one had noticed that the door hadn't slammed shut. When she didn't hear any alarms being raised, she used her other hand to pry it open just wide enough for her stick her head through and peek inside.
Leaning forward one cautious inch at a time, she squinted into the gloom, then pulled her head out again with a frown. It was pitch black in there. She couldn't see a damn thing. Why the hell didn't she carry a flashlight with her? Just in case?
Oh, wait! She did have a flashlight. On her phone! If she could just get it out of her back pocket...
"Whom are we spying on, poppet?"
The low, masculine voice came from directly next to her right ear. With a surprised screech, she leapt back away from the doorway, colliding solidly against a hard, male body.
She froze at the impact, momentarily shocked at the body heat that now warmed her from her shoulders to her ass. Helplessly she watched as the steel door in front of her slammed shut in with a loud "clunk", effectively locking her out.
Her heart resumed pounding again at the sight, hard and heavy at first, then gradually slowing to its normal rhythm. She shook her fist at the door. "Dammit to hell!"
With a frustrated sigh, she suddenly realized the tall dude behind her was, at this very moment, noisily smelling her hair.
Spinning around to give him a piece of her mind, she was caught off guard for the second time when she found herself eye to eye with a dusty T- shirt that had the saying "I <3 Girls In Wellies" sprawled across the front in bold, blue letters.
Wellies? What the hell were wellies?
Refocusing...again...she craned her head back to let him know exactly how not amused she was by his sneaking up on her like that. But as she caught her first up close and personal look at her interloper, the angry words got stuck somewhere in the middle of her throat. And to make matters even more awkward, her mouth hung open for a good five seconds before he reached out and closed it with a gentle finger under her jaw.
Whatever she'd been about to say had gone up in smoke, and she found herself blinking stupidly at the pair of luminescent grey eyes smiling down into hers.
Framed by long, dark lashes, with little creases at the corners, they glimmered from the shadow of his hoodie like beacons of light in the darkness.
Backing up a step, she boldly ran her eyes over all six feet or so of him. Living where she did, it was rare to see a man taller than she was. It was rarer still to see one of his ethnicity (meaning anyone that wasn't Asian) that wasn't a total computer nerd. And this one was most definitely not a computer nerd. He looked more like a model.
She squeezed her eyes shut to make sure she wasn't having some kind of psychological breakdown, but he was still there when she opened them, looking all hot and yummy in his form-fitting jeans, combat boots, and grey hoodie. Having been up close and personal with him, she already knew those dusty clothes covered nothing but lean muscle underneath. His nose was straight, his cheekbones were high, and he had a slight dimple in his chin.
"Who the hell are you?" she blurted out in English.
He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth and small lines that crinkled around his eyes and created attractive crevices in his cheeks. "So sorry, love," he said in a charming British accent. "That was rude of me. I should have introduced myself before scaring the bejesus out of you." He stuck out his hand. "My name is Aiden. Aiden Sinclair."
She stared at his large hand a moment before taking it tentatively with her own.
"Grace."
Instead of shaking her hand, he flipped it over and lifted it to his mouth to press a soft, firm kiss on the middle of her palm with his perfectly sculpted lips.
Her mouth dropped open in surprise for the second time as warm tingles shot up her arm and straight down to her groin at the feel of his lips on her skin, where they morphed into fluttering butterflies.
She tamped those suckers down with sheer force of will, unwilling to let him see how much he affected her. Instead, she raised a skeptical eyebrow at his blatant attempt at flirting. "Really, dude?"
His beautiful eyes narrowed at her knowingly, one side of his mouth curving up into a half smile, but he released her hand.
"So!" He clapped his hands together, rubbing them together in anticipation. "Now that we've been properly introduced, tell me, who are we spying on?"
Her irritation with him returned. "I wasn't spying on anyone."
He quirked an eyebrow.
"Well, not really. I wasn't spying, I was following. Those dudes in there took my Mojo, and I need it back. I was about to sneak in there and get it, before you so rudely scared the hell out of me, causing me to jump back in fright, dislodging my arm and foot from the opening. So now that very large, very thick, very heavy door has closed, and it's locked and I can't get in."
Aiden cocked his head and stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "Your mojo?"
"Yeah. My Mojo."
He eyed her up and down as boldly as she had him. "You do realize, poppet, that if you're going to be sneaking around and following people, you should really make yourself less conspicuous. And wear stealthier shoes."
She looked down at her jeans and moss green pullover shirt. "What do you mean? I'm dressed like most of the girls do around here."
"That may be." He reached out and picked up a lock of her long, wind-blown mahogany hair, skimming his fingers lightly along the top of her breast as he did so. "But this hair is quite beautiful, and quite distinctive. You should cover it if you're going to be out and about 'not' spying on people."
Grace's pulse raced at his too-brief touch, and she frowned. She never reacted to men like this. Not even disgustingly gorgeous ones. Jerking her head back, she pulled her hair out of his grasp.
"Also," he continued, putting his hand back in his pocket. "You're quite taller, and paler, than most females around here, so you do stand out a bit."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest self-consciously. It was true. Although she was only 5'5", she was a good few inches taller or more than the majority of the women here.
Pushing his hood back, revealing short, messy dark hair, he scratched his head in confusion as he looked around. "By the way, would you be so kind as to tell me exactly where we are, poppet?"
It took her a moment to catch up to his change of topic. "You don't know where you are?"
"Not exactly, no. But let me back up. I realize I'm in China; I'm not completely daft. I'm just not certain of the exact location."
She scrunched up her face at him. "How does a person not know where they are? I mean, you know who you are, so you don't have amnesia or anything. And you got yourself here, didn't you?"
"Yes, you see, about that...I, uh..." He shrugged and let out a breath, as if to say what the hell. "I just kind of woke up here, over by the docks there. And the events leading up to my arrival here are a bit...hazy. And by that I mean I don't remember anything at all."
Grace studied his expression. He sounded sincere, and he certainly was good looking, but there was something about him...something that wasn't quite...right. Something weird. Something that was making her instincts fire off caution signals all over the place. She should lose this guy, and the sooner the better.
Except, he really was panty dropping hot. And that was something a girl didn't come across very often in real life.
"Were you drunk?" she asked, her tone conveying her disgust with that type of behavior.
"No. No. I never over imbibe with alcohol."
"Do you remember anything of your life at all? Up until now I mean?"
He gave her a roguish grin. "Oh yes. Quite well."
She wasn't even going to ask what that grin was all about.
"It's just the last...um, what day is it?"
"It's Tuesday."
He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Tuesday...of what month?"
"June."
A slightly panicked look crossed his face, but it was gone so fast she wondered if she'd only imagined it.
"Look," she told him. "Do you want to use my phone? Maybe call someone who can come and get you?"
He gave her a hurt look, slapping his chest with the palm of one hand over the vicinity of his heart. A small dust cloud poofed off of his shirt and floated away. "Are you trying to be rid of me already, poppet? And here I thought we were well on our way to becoming fast friends, you and I."
"Yeah, look dude..."
"Besides, you still haven't told me where I am. And what about your mojo?"
She faltered, crossing her arms in front of her and thinking quickly. He had a point there. It would be helpful having another person with her. There were three Suits in there that she knew of. He would help even the odds.
"Trust me," he added, dropping his eyes to her chest, pushed up as it was by her arms. "I think I'm just the male to help you get that mojo back."
She tilted her head to the side and returned his look with an Are you kidding me? one of her own.
Dropping her arms back down to her sides, she sighed. "Look, dude, do you want to use my phone or not?"
He tore his gaze from her chest with a regretful sigh and smiled. "Yes. That would be helpful. Thank you."
Pulling it out of her back pocket, she handed him her cell. "Take as much time as you need, I have unlimited everything. Oh, and international calling."
She watched him punch in a number from memory (who remembers phone numbers these days?), and the thought crossed her mind that she should probably give him some privacy. But then again, if he was worried about her listening in, he gave no indication of it. And she didn't want him taking off with her phone.
Glancing up at him from under her lashes, she caught him watching her intently. She'd never found herself under such intense scrutiny from a guy before, and she didn't like it. It made her uncomfortable. Glaring at him irritably, she crossed her arms in front of her, only to drop them again when his eyes immediately fell to her cleavage.
She rolled her eyes. Men.
He just grinned.
"Nikulas? Yes, yes, it's me. Would you be so kind as to send a plane to..." He looked at her pointedly.
"Dalian, China," she told him automatically.
His mouth went slack and his brows lifted in surprise. "Dalian. China, yes." He tilted the phone away and looked around at the buildings as excited shouting sounded from the other end of the line.
"Dalian. Really?" he asked her. "It's changed a bit since the last time I was here."
He put the phone back to his mouth. "Yes, I seem to be fine." He paused again. "I have no idea, mate. It's a bit of a mystery to me as well. I woke up in a container full of grain. I'm still shaking it out of my trousers. I'm quite chafed. This stuff is worse than sand." He scowled off into the distance. "Don't laugh, you Estonian bastard."
Grace's lips quirked as she fought back a giggle and failed.
His eyes came back to her as if drawn there by some invisible force. They roved over her smiling features, burning brighter with every second, and then he smiled back at her. "Actually, mate, if you would hold off on that plane a bit. I'll call you when I'm ready to come home. Just ring this number if you need me. The lady who'll answer is Grace."
The smile fell from her face.
What?
"I'll be fine, mate. Yes, I'm sure. I just need to help her out with something. All right. I'll talk to you soon." He clicked off the call and handed her cell back to her.
"Thank you, love."
She automatically reached out to take the phone from him and shoved it back into her jeans pocket.
"Why did you tell him to wait? And what makes you think you're going to be anywhere near my phone, or me for that matter, if your friend decides to call?"
He gave her a roguish grin, and took a step closer. "Because, poppet, I've decided to stay here for a bit and help you get your mojo back."
She opened her mouth to let him know that she could handle things just fine on her own, remembered the locked door and three Suits inside, and snapped it shut again. He hadn't done anything threatening towards her so far, and he certainly appeared to be in good shape. She wondered if he could fight.
"Do you think you can get this door open?"
His grin widened. "Quite!"
The butterflies fluttered as she stepped out of his way. This was either the best or worst idea she'd ever had, but she wasn't so stupid that she would turn down help getting her Mojo back.
Especially when that help was looking at her with sparkling grey eyes, and smelled like the clean outdoors, in spite of the dust covering him.