Derek stood on the marble floor of the lobby and eyed the huge black man staring him down. The name badge identified him as Xavier, but “Death” might have been a better fit. Sure, he was dressed in a gold-gilded doorman’s outfit and wore shiny black shoes, but there was no doubt the man was lethal.
People didn’t have that look in their eyes unless they’d tasted blood before and liked it. Derek remembered that expression in the eyes of his childhood karate class instructor just before he’d broken the nose of his least favorite student.
Personally, Derek preferred that no one get to taste his blood. Call him stingy, but he liked his red blood cells to be doing their job, not staining marble floors. His black belt wouldn’t do any good if Xavier whipped out a gun and popped him between the eyes. Derek cleared his throat. “I’m here to see Justine Bennett.”
Xavier gave him a long look, then broke into a smile that startled Derek with its warmth. “Thank you so much for stopping by, but Ms. Bennett has requested privacy.” His voice was cultured, his tones amiable and soothing. “I’m sure you’d prefer to go have some coffee and read a newspaper instead, wouldn’t you?”
Coffee. Now that Derek thought about it, coffee did sound good. And what had happened on Wall Street today? A burning need to know this instant suddenly flared up inside him.
He began to rifle through his briefcase, searching for his Wall Street Journal, then he stopped himself. What was wrong with him? He was here to see Justine Bennett, not to surf headlines. He scowled at Xavier. “I need to see her. If you could buzz her, that would be great.”
Xavier’s smile broadened. “Of course, you’d much rather go home and watch television, wouldn’t you? The Yankees are playing the Red Sox tonight. You wouldn’t want to miss that, I’m sure.”
Derek blinked. His feet turned toward the door even as he tried to form an argument in his mind.
He was six blocks away before he remembered he didn’t like baseball, and even if he did, he wouldn’t put baseball over tracking down the Guardian.
Weird. One little suggestion about the game and he was rushing to watch it?
Maybe his family was correct, and he was certifiable and making up all this shit.
But he didn’t think so.
Either way, he needed to meet this animator and it was clear the doorman wasn’t going to let him up.
No problem. He could work around Xavier.
On his way back to the condo building, Derek pulled a manila envelope out of his briefcase, dropped some papers in it, and wrote Justine’s name on the outside. Sure, the papers had nothing to do with Justine, but the legalese would keep her confused long enough for him to do what he needed to do. He sealed it, straightened his suit, and marched back inside. “Good evening, Xavier.” He stuck out his hand and pumped the doorman’s hand vigorously. “I’m her new lawyer and I brought some papers for her to sign. Derek LaValle at your service.”
Xavier lifted a brow. “Ms. Bennett doesn’t see guests.”
Derek tried to look insulted. “I’m her attorney, not a guest.”
“You’re hungry, aren’t you? Pizza sounds good . . .”
Jesus. He was suddenly starving? He’d had dinner an hour ago, and now he could practically smell the oregano and baking pizza dough.
“You also need coffee. Expensive coffee. Somewhere on the other side of town.”
Damn. Derek didn’t even drink coffee, but suddenly he felt like if he didn’t get a vanilla latte in less than a minute, he was going to lose his mind. It was all he could do to ignore the craving long enough to realize that there was no more doubt: Xavier was working him over.
And if Xavier really had this kind of power, who knew what other impossibilities could be true? Like dragons, Guardians, and Goblets?
He had to know. Had to get answers. He had to find a way to meet Justine Bennett, and now. His adrenaline racing, he gave Xavier a hard look. “I know what you’re doing, and cut it out. I don’t have time to go get coffee or eat pizza, so drop the magic shit. I need to get back to the office.” He was pretty sure Xavier’s left eye twitched in surprise. He took advantage by handing the man the envelope. “Just see that she gets these, all right? And tonight. I’ll pick up the signed papers on my way to work in the morning. Around six?” He nodded before Xavier could argue. “Great. Thanks for your help.” He frowned. “And tell me I’m not hungry or thirsty and I can work all night. I have a lot to do, and if you screw it up by sending me home to watch the baseball game and OD on caffeine, I’m coming after you.”
Xavier blinked.
“Undo the damage, Xavier. I’m so hungry I could eat your damned name tag.”
Xavier frowned, his forehead furrowed deeply. “Fine. You’re not hungry. You need to work. Go . . .”
“I can take it from there.” Amazing. He was suddenly so full he couldn’t even stand the thought of food. All because of a few words Xavier had spoken. What kind of situation was he getting involved with? He let his breath out softly, then realized Xavier was still staring at him.
“Justine doesn’t know about me,” Xavier said. “How do you?” Xavier’s hands curled into fists. They were like sides of beef. Probably had metal spikes that came out of them or something. “How do you know?” Xavier repeated. His voice was soft, but instead of charming, it was deadly.
Great. Just great.
Derek forced himself to snort and roll his eyes, even as he eased into a ready stance and tried not to wonder if he was about to get a supernatural ass-kicking. “Give me a break, Xavier. I’ve been around this crap so long it takes someone a lot more subtle than you to fool me.” Would this tactic work? He sure hoped so.
Xavier narrowed his eyes. “How long is ‘so long’?”
“Too long.” He gave Xavier an easy smile. “Don’t worry. You’re better than most.” Most what? He had no clue. “Keep at it and you’ll be great. But I need to get back to the office. Get Justine the papers, and don’t worry, I won’t tell her about you.” God, he hoped he was making sense to Xavier, because he sure as hell had no idea what he was saying.
He made it to the revolving door when Xavier stopped him. “LaValle?”
Derek grimaced, then turned to face him. “Yes?”
“What are you?”
Not who, what. Best not to analyze the implications of that question. He didn’t think his brain could handle it. And somehow, he didn’t think “ordinary human” was the right answer. “Tonight, I’m just a lawyer.”
“And other nights?”
“Guess.” He left before Xavier could start listing things he didn’t want to know about.
He was in way over his head.
Which meant he was right.
Hot damn. He was right.
The intercom buzzed as Justine was sharpening the blade of her favorite sword. After the surfer-boy incident earlier in the day, she’d decided she needed to prepare for battle. The diamonds on her sword always glittered so nicely after a slaying, it usually improved her mood. Diamonds were indeed a girl’s best friend, even when on the butt of a sword that had just beheaded someone.
The intercom beeped again, and the red light was flashing insistently. “Another visitor? Did someone post a treasure map on the wall of a public restroom or something?”
Theresa didn’t look up from the computer. “It’s not my fault.”
“Why would it be your fault?”
“It’s not, so it’s not. So there.”
“Being in love is rotting your brain.”
“You mean great cybersex is rotting my brain. There are worse ways to go.”
“True.” Justine set the blade on their granite-topped kitchen table (even Theresa couldn’t burn that sucker) and walked over to the intercom. She punched the gray button. “Xavier?”
“Your lawyer left some papers for you.”
“My lawyer?” She glanced at Theresa. “Are you cyber-boinking a lawyer?”
“Not that I know of.”
Huh. Justine frowned at the speaker. “Are you sure it’s not a bomb?”
“It’s papers.” Xavier sounded proper as always. The man had no personality, but he was very effective.
“Open it,” she said.
She waited for the rustling of paper, then Xavier came back on. “It’s a bunch of legal stuff. Contracts or something. About pretzels. Nothing lethal. Want me to bring them up?”
Pretzels, eh? Their assailant was too stupid if he thought they’d fall for the same line twice. “No. I’ll come down.” She disconnected. “I’m going to the lobby.”
Theresa nodded and shifted on the couch, still typing furiously. “Yeah, whatever.”
“Are you getting info on gold auras, or on orgasms?” Only twenty-two hours left before they had to break camp, unless Theresa could get answers.
“Okay, fine.”
Justine set her hands on her hips. “It could be someone after Mona in the lobby. They might try to take me out and come up here. Or maybe Xavier has been possessed, and when I go down there, he’s going to kill me.”
“Mmm-hmm . . .”
“Theresa!”
The dragon finally looked up. The scales on her cheeks were shining and her eyes were glowing so bright they were almost bioluminescent. “Did you say something?”
“What are you doing on that computer? Is it even legal?”
Theresa’s lips curved back in a grin. “Leave me alone, you cybersex virgin. I’m busy.”
“I guess.” Justine slipped a dagger in the back of her waistband and put another in a sheath between her shoulder blades. She tucked her favorite black-market handgun into her shoulder holster—no need to put the cops on alert by registering it. Then she put a denim jacket on, fluffed her hair, and freshened up her makeup. “Good enough to date, bad enough to kick some ass.” Since Mona’s benefits didn’t include becoming ultra-strong or fast, her best bet was to appear harmless and take her assailants by surprise. It had worked so far and she always got a kick out of the look of astonishment right before she dropped some jerk on his butt.
Ah, the small pleasures in life.
“Have fun.” Theresa sighed. “I want to be Guardian. You get to do all the killing.”
“Killing in the name of eternal youth is overrated, and the only way you’ll get to be Guardian is if I die.”
Theresa rubbed her chin. “It’s a thought . . .”
“Shut up and turn the intercom on. If it sounds like I’m about to be beheaded, come down and burn the place up.”
“You got it, sister.”
Justine punched the elevator button and waited, her foot tapping impatiently on the tile floor, her fingers twitching restlessly near her waistband dagger. She could be heading toward her death, something she hadn’t had to worry about for the last one hundred and eighty years, since the Carl incident.
Which meant today was turning out to be the most interesting day she’d had in decades.
A clear indication that she really needed to get a life.
From his vantage point in the shadows outside the glass double doors of the building, Derek watched the elevator open, his body tense.
And then she stepped out into the lobby, and he nearly dropped the journal.
It was the Guardian.
Almost two centuries later, and she still looked exactly like the drawings in the journal.
Unbelievable.
Her hair was a shoulder-length light brown, sort of intentionally casual looking, as opposed to the old-fashioned style in the journal. She was wearing jeans and a pair of clogs, and her black V-neck T-shirt hugged a very fit body. She was the epitome of a modern New Yorker, but there was no doubt it was the same face as the one in the sketches.
It was her.
He watched as she chatted with Xavier, her forehead furrowed in concentration.
Time to move and approach her.
But he stood there for another moment. He simply couldn’t believe it was true.
Was he going to have to kill her?
The papers made no sense. Well, they made sense, but they didn’t seem to have anything to do with her. “It’s a contract between Vic’s Pretzels and McDonald’s. Why would someone leave this for me?”
“Inside stock tip?” Xavier suggested. “Everyone around here knows you keep the Vic’s on the corner in business.”
“Maybe.” She slid the papers back into the envelope and looked at her doorman. After the surfer episode, she’d grilled him about letting the kid up. Xavier had denied seeing the boy arrive, let alone permitting him access to the elevator, though he had seen him leave. Xavier was still meeting her eyes easily, so she didn’t think he was lying. But neither of them had been able to figure out how the kid could have gotten in the elevator without Xavier seeing him. Things were getting weirder by the minute. “So, who left these papers?”
“I did.”
She spun around, her hand going to the small of her back. A man in a business suit was standing inside the lobby doors, a briefcase in one hand. He looked just over six feet, short dark hair, and a stance that exuded readiness. He was absolutely gorgeous and made her mouth go dry, which meant the odds that she was going to have to kill him were quite high.
And he looked very, very familiar.
Xavier moved next to her. “Want me to get rid of him?”
“No. Not yet.” She eased away from the doorman so he didn’t cramp her movements. “Who are you?”
“Didn’t my brother say I’d be coming by? I asked him to stop by earlier.”
“Your brother?” This was the surfer dude’s brother? “He wasn’t real chatty.”
The man sighed. “Yes, sometimes he’s a bit distracted.”
Her fingers closed around the knife. “Do I know you?” It was his chin, she decided. She knew that chin. Nice angle, strong. Masculine. “You look familiar.”
He lifted a brow. Nice eyebrows. “My brother looks like me.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Not at all. “Not that I believe he was your brother. Paid assassin is more likely.”
The man raised the other eyebrow. “Assassin?”
“Yes, and he wasn’t a very good one either. Next time you should check references.”
“If I ever hire an assassin, I’ll be sure to keep your advice in mind.” He took a few steps toward her, and she moved to her right, drifting to the middle of the lobby so she’d have room to maneuver. “At the moment, however, I just want to ask you some questions.”
“Ask away.” Seeing as how his “brother” had tried to kill her earlier today, she knew she ought to take him out first and skip the questions. But unlike Theresa, she didn’t get a thrill out of killing people, and she was still hoping he’d turn out to be a vacuum cleaner salesman.
He moved opposite her, until they were both moving in a slow circle, like assailants looking for an opening.
Which she was.
Was he?
A spike of adrenaline washed over her. She hadn’t had a good battle in forever. How fun would it be to have one now? Maybe she couldn’t sleep with him, but she could knock him around a bit.
“You know any dragons?”
She stopped. “What?”
“Dragons. Know any?”
Who was this guy? “Xavier, I think you should leave.”
“I think he should leave. I think he’s tired and needs a nap,” Xavier replied.
“Shut up!” The man glared at Xavier. “You say one more thing and I’m blowing your cover.”
Justine eyed her doorman, who nodded and closed his mouth. “Um, what cover?” she asked Xavier.
“Nothing. You asked me to leave and I will.” Xavier scowled at their visitor. “You hurt her, and you’ll die.”
The man didn’t look impressed by the threat. “Go have some coffee.”
Xavier growled, but he walked out the door, muttering what sounded like orders to go to sleep immediately.
She directed her attention back to the man, catching the tail end of a yawn. “Who are you?”
He yawned again. “The Curse. I need to know how to stop it.”
“What curse?”
He staggered slightly and slapped his cheek, even as he yawned again. “Bastard.” His epithet was mumbled, his eyes bleary.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Xavier.” He blinked and stumbled over to the wall. He leaned against it, then slid down to the floor, his head collapsing against the wall with a thud. “The dragon. The Goblet. Need answers.” His eyes closed for a moment, before he jerked them open again.
She let her fingers slide off the dagger. “What goblet?” Was he faking it? He didn’t look like it. He looked like he was about to pass out.
“Eternal Youth.” His eyes closed and his head slumped forward.
Shit. He knew what he was talking about. At least he didn’t know Mona was an espresso machine . . . or did he? “What do you know about it?”
No answer.
She withdrew her gun and pointed it at him, then eased over to him, nudging him with her toe.
No response.
Was he dead?
Keeping her gun out, she squatted next to him and felt his pulse. Strong.
He was alive.
And he smelled divine.
She took a quick glance around, then leaned forward and buried her nose in his neck. Closed her eyes and inhaled him. He smelled like man, like woods and sophistication, all tangled up together. Surfer Boy had smelled good, but this guy smelled incredible.
“What’s going on down there?” Theresa’s voice bellowed out from the intercom.
She jumped and sat up. “He passed out.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.” She flipped open his suit jacket and felt for a wallet, trying not to notice he had a very nice chest. “Got a wallet.”
“Is he hot?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Liar! Take advantage of him while he’s unconscious.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She opened his wallet and pulled out a driver’s license. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
She collapsed against the wall, staring at the words.
“What?”
“His name. It’s Derek LaValle.”
Silence for a moment. “You think he’s related to Carl?”
Her heart thudding in her chest, she turned and studied Derek’s profile. He had Carl’s chin. “Yes.” No wonder he’d looked familiar.
“Well, shit and damn. Is he as good-looking as Carl was?”
“Better.” She clenched the license in her hand.
“Better? He must be gorgeous! Is he gay, like Carl was? Or is this guy fair game?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, did he check out your breasts before he passed out?”
“Theresa! I don’t know! God, what am I supposed to do with him?”
“Bring him upstairs. We’ll handcuff him to your bed and torture him sexually until he confesses all. If we blindfold him, do you think he’ll realize I’m a dragon?”
“I think I should kill him.” She stood up and pulled out her knife. “Carl betrayed me. This guy’s ‘brother’ already tried to kill me today. There’s no way this guy can be anything but a danger to us.” But she stood there staring at Derek, who wasn’t moving. She really didn’t think killing in cold blood was the best approach, given her mom’s situation. Plus he was so good-looking and smelled really delicious, and, well, would it be so bad to take a couple minutes to inhale him? Not long. Just a brief moment.
“Justine? Did you kill him? I don’t hear any blood rushing around down there.”
She shoved the dagger back in its sheath. “I’m bringing him up.”
“Oh, goody. Can we torture him? Burn him up? Use him until we’re all heavily sated and exhausted?”
“No, to everything except burning him up, and that’s a maybe.”
“Sweet. This will be so fun!”
Justine eased behind him and wrapped her arms under his arms and around his chest . . . Oh, wow. It felt so good to have him smashed up against her. Maybe Theresa was right. Maybe she should make him her love slave for the next few hundred years. . . . She dragged him into the elevator, got his feet clear of the door . . . but didn’t let go.
Not yet. She wanted to enjoy this sensation for another minute. Granted, he was passed out and limp against her, but she could feel his muscles. He was a man, for God’s sake, and he was in her arms. It had been so long. Was this why Theresa had turned to cybersex? But how could cybersex possibly make up for the feeling of a man’s body against hers, the heat from his skin pressing against her and—
He twitched, spun around in her arms and flipped her beneath him, trapping her instantly under the weight of his body, on the floor of the elevator. Big enough for moving in couches, it was apparently also big enough for two adults to stretch out in a very intimate fashion.
He opened his gorgeous eyes and peered down at her, the slightest hint of smugness in his expression.
Oh, so that’s how it was? Try to lull her into submission with his manly appeal and then take her out? Not so fast. She was a Guardian first and a woman second, and he was so going down. But damn, he smelled good.