Dark Lover (29 page)

The birds started to sing from the treetops around them.

Sam leaned back against the trunk, and realized it was his shoulder. She hesitated.

The past few minutes were a crazy blur. But they'd done it. They'd outrun those monster knights. And his body felt awfully warm and strong, frankly male, behind her shoulder. His body felt good. “What a rush,” she finally said.

He made a sound, like laughter.

Sam now saw that the forest wasn't pitch-black. It was dark with shadow, but she could make out every tree trunk and branch that was close by. She could even see the chipmunk that had paused at the base of a tree, not far from where they sat. It blinked its beady eyes at them.

She smiled and breathed.

Ian didn't move away from her.

He'd leapt through time to find her.

Her heart seemed to quiver oddly at the notion. She was almost elated. She dared to look up at his handsome profile. He glanced down at her. His gaze remained serious and searching.

“I'm all right.”

“They didn't hurt ye?”

“They planned to. But those locks slipped off and then Tabby threw a really good protection spell at me. I took off.” She sobered. “If Tabby hadn't heard my cry for help, I'd be dead right now.”

He stared into the forest grimly.

She looked at him. She wanted to touch him, his cheek, his jaw, and the rest of his amazing, hard body. She wanted really good, really hot sex. No, she wanted really hot sex together with friendship and caring. She sort of liked Maclean.

And she wanted to thank him for his help.

But that was insane. She got down to business. “Where is the damned page, Ian?”

He looked at her. “Loch Awe.”

It only took her an instant. He'd never leap back in time to hide it, not if he didn't have to. “How did you get it there?”

He shrugged. “A charter jet, a pilot, a messenger.”

There was one problem, Sam thought. She was in 1527. She needed to tell Nick, who was in 2009.

Ian looked at her.

“Reading my mind?”

“Ye know by now that I can't read minds. Not often, anyway.” He was sharp.

Sam wondered if she was really going to double-cross him. How could she not? They'd gone through hell because he'd stolen the page and was refusing to hand it over. She'd almost lost her short hair to a knight wielding a spiked ball because he had the page! Enough was enough.

She knew what she had to do, but it didn't sit well with her. She stared at the little chipmunk, which had been gathering up seeds, grim and thoughtful. She just didn't have a helluva lot of choices now.

“So how are we getting back to 2009?” she asked. But
damn it, she wasn't really ready to leave. She wanted time with Brie and her sister.

“So ye can run to Nick an' betray me?”

“Yeah, Ian. So I can run to Nick and betray you.” She stared at him intensely and his regard was as unwavering. Then she reached up and cupped his cheek. “I don't want to argue or fight. I don't want to be on warring sides. I owe you. I want to say thanks. But it's time to hand over the page before they do some terrible things to us. Before they wind up with its power. This is the real deal, Ian. We're not fighting bit-part players here and you know it.”

He pulled his face away. Sam thought he was angry, but then she realized he was sitting up, listening. Alarm kicked in as she strained to hear, as well. She realized that the birds had stopped singing. The forest was so silent that she could hear their breathing again. It was unnatural.

And then she thought she heard something moving in the black depths in front of them.

Maclean took her hand and they glided backward, deeper into the forest. Sam heard heavy breathing now. It wasn't human. And that was when she felt the draft slither through the trees, brushing her bare arms, her bare legs.

Their gazes met. Then they turned as one and from behind a tree saw the shadows of man and beast.

The demon was hulking. So was its dog. The height of a Shetland pony, it had to be two hundred and fifty pounds. It was sniffing the ground, its gray coat glowing.

The nonhuman being had to be seven or eight feet tall. He stopped and looked right at them. When he smiled, his teeth flashed in the darkness.

Sam looked at Ian and jerked hard on his hand.

He threw his arms around her.

The demon dog howled and the nonhuman released it. As it charged, Sam said, “No more time, Maclean.”

It galloped madly at them, eyes blazing, ready to tear them from limb to limb.

Ian cursed.

Had he lost the power? “Maclean!” Sam shouted.

He grunted and pulled her more tightly into his embrace. As the dog leapt at them, they spun wildly up through the trees, past thick branches and spikelike needles, the pines scratching and clawing their arms, their faces. Then they were being hurled through the bright blue sky, into clouds, past the bright, glowing sun.

F
RANKIE THE DOORMAN
seemed more afraid of Rupert Hemmer than he did Uncle Sam. Nick began to lose patience as the doorman stared at his phony FBI ID and warrant, clearly reluctant to let them in. Nick sighed. “Let's go,” he told his team.

As Nick walked to the elevator with his team, Frankie ran to the phone. Nick sighed again. How dumb could a doorman be? “Hold the cage,” he said to Kit. He turned and strode back across the lobby in about one second flat. He smiled at Frankie, who held the lobby phone, before ripping the telephone and its cord from Frankie's hands and the wall at the same time. “Now, that was downright oppositional,” he said. He started to frisk him.

The thirty-two-year-old Latino blanched. “Hey, what are you doing! For all I know, that warrant is a fake. For all I know,
you're
a fake!”

Having found the jerk's cell phone, Nick dropped it on the floor and stomped on it, making certain that the loyal doorman could not call his boss. “Frankie? I swear to reimburse you. Now you need to swear that you won't run down the street to the closest phone. Otherwise I'm gagging you, tying you up and sticking you in the janitor's closet.”

“It's Freddie,” he gasped, eyes bulging. “Fine! But he'll fire me, you know that, right?”

“I think we can make things right with the union and get you another job really, really fast.”

Frankie calmed. “Okay,” he said.

Satisfied, Nick hurried to his team. They were holding the elevator, not fazed by his little bout of violence. He stared impatiently at the floor indicator as the private elevator went right up to the penthouse. The clock was ticking and he knew it. There was no point in bouncing around 1527 when he didn't even know if Sam was there. Hemmer had taken her back in the first place. He'd have to come home sooner or later, and he'd sure as hell know where she was. Nick itched to get answers. He itched for a raw, dirty fight. Hemmer was going to pay for touching his agent. Oh, yeah.

He kept thinking about Jan, who'd forgiven him for Alex, and Katie and the kids, who were too dead to forgive him for anything. He kept seeing the faces of the Twelve.

Kit Mars was first out of the elevator.

Having read her mind without even trying, he knew she was really worried about Sam. Did Sam even know that she had a loyal friend in her coworker? She was beyond determined, but that was why he'd recruited her out of the NYPD. The kid was fierce. Untested, really, but fierce.

One of the guys, Cardozza, tried the doorknob first. “It's locked.”

Nick tried not to roll his eyes. “Ring the bell. Missus is at home. So's the help.”

Kit was already ringing the doorbell. “So what's the plan, Nick?” she asked. “I mean, Hemmer isn't here and when he gets back, I don't think he's going to tell us what we want to know.”

“You've never seen me at my most persuasive.” Nick smiled at her.

Kit didn't smile back.

He was expecting a butler or housekeeper to answer the door—not Becca Hemmer in her La Perla bra and panties.

His eyes widened. He'd seen photos of her, of course. She was on magazine covers, celebrity rags, the
Enquirer
. He knew she was a knockout, but she was better in the flesh. In the five-inch pumps, she was almost as tall as he was.

“We were wondering how long it would take you to come over, Nick,” she purred.

He refocused. “Gee, I don't recall us having met…Mrs. Hemmer.”

“We haven't.” She smiled. “But Rupert is expecting you and you're more than welcome to wait until he comes back. We can even amuse ourselves, if you'd like.”

He told himself not to get distracted. His surprise visit wasn't very much of a surprise, apparently.

She stepped up to him so his groin brushed her cute panties. “You will come in and wait, won't you?”

Cardozza snickered.

Nick slid his arm around her waist and handled her ass. He looked at Cardozza and Putney. “You know what to do,” he said.

They barreled past Becca, heading across the entry hall for Hemmer's private office, Cardozza taking a drill out of his backpack. Kit followed them.

“What are you doing?” Becca cried.

“Well, since this is an official visit, we're going to break into dear Rupert's office and seize his computers and all his files.”

“He won't like it,” she finally said.

“But he doesn't mind his little trophy shagging the cop?” Nick asked.

She shrugged. “Are we shagging, Nick?” Her smile returned; she'd recovered.

He smiled back and blasted the chandelier that wasn't very far from their heads.

Becca cried out and jumped as it crashed to the floor,
breaking into a million tiny pieces. The marble floor didn't look so good, either.

“I don't like surprises,” Nick said easily, “and I bet Rupert doesn't like them, either.”

She wet her lips, looking at him with new respect. Raw lust shimmered in her eyes. “Men with white power are always the best,” she said roughly.

“He has my agent,” Nick returned flatly. He leveled the walls in the room. Then he kicked a piece of crystal from the chandelier out of his way. “And I am not a happy camper.”

 

W
HEN SHE STOPPED HURTING
, Sam sat up. She found herself in a medieval great room she instantly recognized, in spite of the newer furnishings. She glanced at Ian in surprise. He was standing above her, glowering, arms crossed. He'd apparently recovered from the leap a bit more swiftly than she had. “We're at Castle Awe,” she said, becoming excited. “Are we still in 1527?”

His gaze was cold. “Yeah. It's the next day. August 10, 1527.”

She stood up. His gaze went to her legs and Sam looked down. She had quite a few silly scratches, and one huge gaping tear on her calf. Now, she became aware of the pain.

“The dog bit ye,” he said harshly.

He was blaming himself, she thought, for not rushing to leap away. She cursed and limped to the trestle table and sat down hard on the bench. “Can you do something about it?” The last time she'd been at Castle Awe, she'd been with Nick and they'd been looking for Brie. It had been 1502. She'd seen Tabby, too. She really hoped her sister was still around. The odds were in her favor, she thought.

Ian's answer was to walk over to where she sat. He knelt and he put his hands on her bloody leg. Sam realized that he didn't want to heal her. Maybe that was
because he'd have to admit to himself that bad boys didn't heal, making him one of the good guys after all. When would he give the rebel act up? She gasped at the sensation of his healing warmth flooding into her. Instantly the pain dimmed. The warmth intensified, creeping up her leg into her thigh. She stared at him, becoming a bit breathless.

His eyes were on her knee, his huge hands wrapped around her calf. The pain was like a dull headache now. She couldn't help it—the feeling of his hands had become sensual. She wondered what it would be like to have those hands elsewhere, flooding her with their white heat.

She wouldn't mind him moving those hands higher.

He slowly looked up at her.

“I can't recall,” she said softly, “if I ever got around to saying thank-you for the rescue.”

His eyes had changed during the healing, telling her that he was getting off on it, too, but his face was hard. He was angry, but controlling it. Sam didn't know why. “Forget it.”

What was wrong with Maclean? His comeback should have been provocative, rude and sexual. “No, I'm not going to forget it. You've come to my rescue a few times. I am not used to being a damsel in distress. I'm used to playing hero.” When he didn't speak, she said seriously, “I owe you, Ian, and I always repay my debts.”

“The monk took ye captive to get at me,” he said abruptly, moving his hands to her thigh.

She inhaled, her heart thundering now. But she focused on what he meant. He was blaming himself. “Hemmer captured me,” she said. “It isn't your fault. We're in this together. What are you doing?”

He took her arm in his hands. “Getting rid of the scratches and cuts.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said thickly. How far was the closest bedroom, she wondered. Was he truly upset because he
thought that he was to blame for what she'd just gone through? “I've been through a lot worse. It's part of the job.”

He moved to her other leg, running one hand up and down it, ignoring her comment.

“You're getting awfully good at this,” Sam joked, really on fire.

“I want him dead,” he said, finally looking at her.

Okay, she thought, both of her legs and one arm now unblemished. “Is that why we're here? So we can go back to Carlisle and nail him? Because I want a piece of the action.”

Ian stood. “He needs to pay,” he said abruptly. “And for the last time, there is no ‘we.

She got up, taking his wrist. “He needs to pay for what he almost did to me, or what he did do to you for about a decade?”

He wrenched away. As he did, Tabby ran into the room with Brie. “We were hoping you'd come here!” Tabby cried.

Maclean walked away from her, arms crossed over his chest. Sam was worried. It couldn't be easy, coming face-to-face with one of his captors. He was going to confront the monk and she couldn't blame him. Vengeance was a great idea. But going it alone was not. She understood that he dreaded this particular battle. She wanted—needed—to know why. That meant she needed to know the details of his relationship with Carlisle. And she dreaded that.

But she smiled at her sister and cousin as they ran up to her.

“Okay,” Brie said. “Now we can catch up!”

 

“S
O WHAT COMES NEXT
?” Brie asked.

Two bottles of wine were empty. Sam sat with Brie and
Tabby at the trestle table, a small fire lazily licking the wood in the hearth. The men had left them to their own devices. Sam knew Ian had gone to a guest chamber, and she hoped he was calmer now. She had spent at least an hour bringing her sister and cousin up to speed. Tabby and Brie knew every relevant detail of the past few days. They knew that Ian had stolen the page of illusion, and that it was not his first theft. She'd told them about Hemmer and the monk, and they knew that the monk had been his guard for the last ten years of his captivity. And Sam had told them that Ian had revealed that he'd stashed the page at Loch Awe in the present. Now, Tabby reached for Sam's hand.

It was so great to be back together, Sam thought. She looked at Brie. “I have to recover the page and hand it over to Nick, which will stop some of this madness.

“Can you really betray Ian?” Tabby asked softly.

Sam tensed. “Can you read minds now, or do you still know me inside and out?”

Tabby smiled. “No, Sam, I can't read minds, except for Guy's. But I do know you as well as I ever have. You haven't told us everything, have you?”

Sam was rueful. Tabby suspected the truth. She glanced at Brie and sighed. “Okay, Maclean is hot. I caved. I laid Maclean.”

“Sam!” Tabby gave her the best schoolteacher stare she possessed.

Sam smiled then. “Am I made?”

“It's obvious that you and Ian have teamed up—he has your back and you have his. You used to protect us that way. Now you're fighting for him that way,” Tabby said.

“And he was so worried about you,” Brie interjected. “Not to mention that he's still really upset about what happened at the Cathedral.”

He'd been worried about her. He'd leapt time to rescue
her—again. They'd fled together—he'd healed her twice. What did that all mean? Sam reached for the wine and realized both bottles were empty.

Tabby stilled her hand. “Underneath the anger and despair, he is a good man,” she said.

Sam looked at her. That was what Brie had said, a day or so ago. “I know. He comes across as a total jerk—wealthy, arrogant and unbelievably self-centered. But I've seen the truth.” She spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. “He was in demonic captivity for sixty-six years. He suffered unspeakably. I'm afraid to think about what they did to him. Those wounds remain and they're raw. I think he suffers from flashbacks, from nightmares. You're right—he lives with despair.” She was grim. “The arrogance, the scorn, the indifference and even the selfishness, it's all a facade, so we will never know how fractured he is, how frightened, how hurt.”

Tabby's eyes were wide. “You care about him,” she said softly.

“I hope not!” Sam exclaimed uncomfortably. “Not the way you mean, anyway!”

Her sister and cousin looked at her.

“Okay, I do care, but not
that
way! Damn it. It all started when I began to realize what he's been through. I fought the compassion, I really did. But no one should ever have to suffer what he has—and it's not even over! That damned monk is back!”