One Night with Sole Regret 03 Take Me (20 page)

“That’s you,” she blurted. “And me.” She looked up at him. “I don’t remember having this picture taken. I’ve never even met you.”

“You wouldn’t remember,” he said. “Look at the date.”

Her eyes returned to the clipping, seeking the date. Her confusion was absolute. “That’s a year from now. This must be a misprint.” She flipped the page over and found part of an ad for satellite television service. It looked like a regular newspaper clipping, but...

“It’s not a misprint, Lara. It’s real.”

He waited while her mind raced to put all of this information together.

“How?” she breathed. She scanned the article’s text, trying to make sense of it. There were few details on the crime because investigators were stumped as to motive and suspects; most of the article was about her work and life. Some of the things printed were not in her memory because they hadn’t happened yet. The final line of the article threw her for another loop.
Ms. Kensington’s fiancé, Reece Jericho, could not be reached for questioning.

“Fiancé?” she sputtered, looking up at him again.

“I’ll tell you about my marriage proposal sometime,” he said, grinning at her. “But right now, we need to get out of here.”

“I don’t care if you do look like Orlando Bloom on steroids and claim to be my future fiancé, I’m not going anywhere with you. You could have easily fabricated this whole thing and made this picture and this newspaper with some fancy computer
softw
—”

He placed one finger on her lips. “I knew you’d have a hard time accepting this, but I don’t have time to reason with your logic,
sweath
—Lara. We can’t stick around here. He’s sure to catch up with me soon and if he gets his hands on you...”

“Who?”

“I already told you. Carl.” He said the guy’s name as if he were Gandhi or Madonna or Prince and only needed one name to be readily identifiable.

“I don’t
know
any Carl.” Lara heard a low hum come from the vicinity of Reece’s chest.

“Shit. Too late,” he said. “We have to hide.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, leaning closer to his chest to listen more closely and maybe inhale his arousing scent a little. The humming was growing louder. “What’s that sound?”

Reece took Lara by the arm and pulled her behind a large statue of the Egyptian sun god Ra. He glanced around and finding they were still alone, reached into the neck hole of his black tank top, which clung to his hard-muscle chest like a second skin. He
pulled out a broken amulet that hung from a leather cord around his neck. The strange piece of jewelry was humming, the sound growing louder by the second.

“What is that?” she asked, trembling fingers moving towards the amulet. It was made of beige stone and had hieroglyphics carved into its surface. Half a circle, it obviously had been cracked down the center. The other half of the amulet was missing.

“If he catches us, you will die, Lara, do you understand?”

Reece drew her against his chest, and she thought she should struggle against him—they were strangers and he
was
insane, after all—but being plastered to his muscular body did strange things to her sensibilities. His hold was both soothing and exciting. His large hand splayed over her lower back as he drew her nearer. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed against her hair. “I won’t let anything or anyone take you from me again.”

Oh great, he was a stalker, too.

There was a loud crackle and then the humming of the amulet stopped. Lara listened carefully, eyes roving as she sought the source of the unsettling feeling in the air. Booted footsteps echoed through the large exhibit room. Had the night watchman come to check on her?
Finally! I’m saved!
Strange how she didn’t want to be saved from Mr. Hunky Whack Job Reece Jericho.
Not one bit.

“I know you’re here,” the night watchman called. Except Tim usually spoke with a slow Southern draw and now he sounded like he was from Jersey. How very odd. “You can’t have her, Jericho. You can’t change the future
or
the past.”

Lara’s heart thudded. She had the sinking sensation that this guy was talking about
her
future.
Her future death.
Murdered at the age of thirty-three.
She obviously didn’t want that.

Reece’s arms tightened around her. “We have to run, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Will you come with me?”

“Where?”

“We won’t know until we get there,” he said. “And it’s not so much a where, as it is a when.”

“Huh?”

“Hold on to the amulet,” he instructed. “I’m not sure it will take both of us together, but we have to try.”

She looked up at him, and he smiled. She wasn’t sure why, but she trusted him. Perhaps it was because no one had ever looked at her the way he was looking at her—as if she were the greatest treasure on Earth. And the man was a treasure hunter by trade, so he knew a good find when he found one. Lara took his broken, stone amulet in her hand. He covered her hand with his, closed his eyes and whispered a strange series of words.
Egyptian words.

“Found you,” Tim, the night watchman, said. His form wavered between his own likeness and that of an entirely different man. An unfamiliar big guy with jet-black hair flickered to the
weasely
, balding man Lara knew and then back to the thug-looking guy again. It was as if he were one of those hydrofoil images that changed from one picture to another when you tilted it. The air around him crackled with energy. Tim/whoever grimaced when his eyes fell upon the amulet.
“Dammit, Jericho.
Let her go.”

A faint yellow glow surrounded them.

“Sorry, Carl,” Reece said. “Not this time.”

The loud hum coming from the amulet in Lara and Reece’s combined hands crackled. The sensation of falling sideways gripped Lara and she cried out in surprise. She was not in contact with the Earth any more. The only thing solid was Reece. Her arms went around his waist as she held onto him with all her strength, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Easy,” he said breathlessly.
“Almost finished.
It doesn’t hurt. I promise.”

There was a second loud crackle, and Lara felt the Earth come into contact with her feet again. It wasn’t as if they touched down, but as if the Earth appeared beneath them suddenly.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said.

Lara realized something was different immediately. First, the smooth fabric of Reece’s tank top was now thick and furry—an animal hide. Second, the sounds were definitely not those of a silent museum. Screams of fright, raucous laughter, roaring flames, and the sounds of destruction surrounded them. And the last time she had checked, she’d been wearing shoes. Her bare feet were now planted in a thin layer of snow, and there was a breeze blowing up her backside that did little for her peace of mind.

“Well, this is an unexpected, yet pleasant, surprise,” Reece said, his hand sliding down the bare skin of her back.

Lara released the amulet and jerked away from him. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting this reaction because he offered no resistance. She fell backwards and landed on her naked rump in the snow.
Naked?
Why was she naked? She shrieked in discomfort, and then looked up at Reece, planning to give him a piece of her mind. But it wasn’t Reece who was standing over her, looking amused and concerned at the same time. It was some gigantic, blond man, with a scraggly beard and a horned helmet on his head.

A Viking?

A Viking!

Lara screamed and tried to scramble away.

Chapter 2

T
he huge Viking leaned over Lara and offered her a meaty hand. A meaty hand, splattered with blood. Human blood, she imagined.

“Get away from me!” she screamed.
“Help!
Someone help me!”

Lara glanced around desperately, eyes darting from one horrific sight to the next. Men lay dead in the village roads. Humble huts blazed, engulfed in flames. Screaming women pleaded with captors as they were dragged toward the shore in the distance. Elders, tears streaming, gathered the children and hustled them away from the ruined village.

“Lara, it’s me,” the Viking said. He was speaking Norse. And she understood him!

Lara laughed and a numbing calm spread over her. This was dream. That explained everything. Now what had Freud said about dreaming you were naked? Something about the ego, or was it the id? Maybe it was the Iliad. No that was Greek mythology, not Norse. She laughed again, tears streaming down her face now, as she bemoaned herself for eating caramel and chocolate truffle ice cream before bedtime. Wow, this was a doozy of a nightmare.
And realistic.
She could smell the burning wood, feel the cold of the snow against her bare skin,
taste
the acrid smoke in the air. Feel the warmth of the giant Viking’s hand wrap around her wrist.

She gaped up at him.

“I know this is a lot to accept at the moment,” he said, speaking English now in Reece’s voice. For a scant second she saw him—Reece—but in the next, scary Viking guy was back. The Norseman looked solid, while Reece’s brief likeness had been but a glimmer. “And as much as I like you naked, we need to find you some clothes before you freeze.” But that was unmistakably Reece’s voice.

“Reece?” she questioned, her uncontrollable laughter turning into body quaking sobs. “You sound like… like, Reece, but…but…but…you don’t look… look like him.”

“Well, that’s how this works, sweetheart,” he said, gently, brushing a tear from her cheek, “but you can see through the illusion, if you try.”

Can Lara survive her adventure through time without losing her mind or her life?

Loving on Borrowed Time
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