Naughty Karma: Karmic Consultants, Book 7 (11 page)

With a dim, dual awareness, she felt Prometheus again. Inside her, linked to her, holding her, kissing her, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore. He
was
and his existence was hope. She tried to cling to it, to cling to him, but she couldn’t find her center amid all the chaos. She was rolling on the tide of
something
. Something far bigger than she. Was it him? Death? Coming for Ciara? Would she die too if they were linked? Held under the weight of the pain, it was hard to care. Death would release her from that, release them both.

Not today, it won’t
. The deep voice in her mind was layered over itself, rich with power, but she heard Prometheus in it. His ferocity. His determination. A girl could do worse in a knight in shining armor. A dark laugh rumbled in her mind.
Don’t go mistaking me for a white knight, sweetheart.

Then something clicked, a deep chord finding perfect harmony, a long dislocated bone popping into place. The pain vanished. Karma gasped at the release, slingshotted out of Ciara’s awareness, the link flying loose with a brutal jerk that left an ache in her chest where it had hooked in deep. She saw Ciara tumble out of the water and into her handler’s arms, saw her finder reach for him, like an echo or the afterimage that lingers after staring too long into the sun, but she was firmly herself again, collapsed against Prometheus’s chest, clinging to him to keep herself upright.

“She’s alive,” she whispered, melting even more against him with the force of her relief—and residual lust.

“I saw.” She felt as much as heard his voice, rumbling through his chest.

He’d seen. Of course he’d seen. He’d been right there with her. He’d done it all. He may not be a white knight—had she imagined his voice in her mind?—but he’d saved the day today. Saved Ciara. Saved Karma’s sanity.

“
Thank you
.”

Those words had never seemed more inadequate. She looked up, into those bottomless black eyes, trying to convey with her own everything she couldn’t put into words. He was strength. Stability in a chaotic world. He taken her trust and earned it back. He—

“Karma? Your three o’clock is—oh.”

Brittany broke off as Karma launched herself away from Prometheus. She patted her hair, her clothes, more than a little surprised to find herself unmussed—or at least no more mussed than she had been before Prometheus had gotten his hands on her. Her world had just been rocked. She
shouldn’t
look the same. But she did. Normal, straight-laced Karma. “Yes, Brittany?”

Brittany smiled, a naughty twinkle in her wide eyes. “Sorry to interrupt. I think your intercom thingy is busted. Your three o’clock is waiting.”

Apparently, the sparks hadn’t been merely metaphorical. A quick glance confirmed they’d fried all the electronics on her desk. Karma cleared her throat, hoping it would clear the cobwebs out of her brain. “Certainly. Please thank him for his patience. I’ll just be another two minutes.”

“What, no afterglow?”

Karma shot Prometheus a quelling glare, even knowing it would do nothing to shut him up. “Thank you, Brittany.”

The receptionist beamed and ducked back into the front office, leaving Karma alone with the bane of her existence—who could apparently kiss in a way that made her lose her mind.
That is not a good thing
.

She rounded the desk, striding purposefully toward the door.
To show him out, not because I need the distance.
“Thank you very much for your assistance, Prometheus.”

“My pleasure.” His voice was far too suggestive for her comfort as he prowled behind her across the room. “You know, some people might think I’ve repaid my debt to Karmic Consultants now.”

“I’ll take your actions today under consideration, but as you heard, I have a prior engagement and don’t have time to discuss any changes in our arrangement at present. I’ll speak with Rodriguez and we can talk about your progress tomorrow. Brittany will find a time for you in my schedule.”

The words were comforting, making her feel more and more in control, but one look at Prometheus proved what an illusion that was. No one could control him. He was a force of nature. A human tidal wave. If he even qualified as human.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Prometheus murmured as he brushed past her, closer than he needed to be, close enough for his power to prick her skin in a stealth caress like he was attuning her body to his touch. But he didn’t touch. “Just look on your schedule under Knight in Shining Armor.” He winked and was gone before Karma had time to blush.

Damn
. She hadn’t imagined it. He really had been inside her thoughts—if they even counted as her thoughts. She hadn’t been herself. Certainly she would never have thought of him that way. His magic was dark. It had probably tainted her. Corrupted her. But it hadn’t felt corrupting. Tempting, yes. Seductive, absolutely. But she wanted to roll in his power, not rid herself of it.
Dangerous.

Karma strode to her meditation corner, taking a few seconds to tidy herself up and clear her head. She went through her mental exercises quickly, easily finding that familiar center, that firm, unyielding sense of control. Once again ready to face the world as cool, competent Karma, she strode to her door and opened it with a professional smile already in place.

“Dr. Williams, thank you for your patience.” She extended a hand to the slim man with elbow patches on his tweed jacket, making a point
not
to look at the tall figure leaning against Brittany’s desk. Her heart rate did
not
speed up because he was in the room. Her reaction to him today had been an aberration. It would not be repeated.

Even if a tiny part of her she usually kept buried had liked it.

Chapter Twelve

Color Me Bad

Prometheus watched Karma escape back into her office with her three o’clock. That was the only word for it,
escape
. A smile curved his lips. He’d rattled the unshakeable Karma today—and enjoyed every second of it.

The kiss had been pure impulse, designed to shake her perfect self-control, and it had succeeded brilliantly. Though he would have preferred the first time he had Karma in a liplock that he not be preoccupied with making sure the finder who was going to find his heart didn’t die. That couldn’t count as their first kiss. He wanted a do-over so he could devote his entire attention to enjoying her loss of control.

It was almost comic that Karma thought of him as a knight in shining armor, riding in to selflessly save the day. He didn’t know the definition of selfless. But he was good at self-interest and keeping Karma’s finders all alive and working, as well as keeping Karma from having a complete breakdown and descending into grief, were both firmly in his self-interest. It was all about the long view. He couldn’t have dead finders if he wanted everyone at the top of their game.

But if Karma thought he was a saint, so much the better. A little delusion could take him a long way.

“Is ten o’clock okay?” Sprinkles the Wonder Secretary chirped at him.

“Perfect.” He flashed her a smile. “Just schedule me under the White Knight.”

“White?” Brittany’s head cocked to the side and she blinked vacantly.

“It’s a joke, sweetheart.”

“Oh, no, I get it,” she assured him. “I just never saw you as the white type. But I guess you can’t be the black knight because that makes you sound African-American and the Dark Knight is already taken, unless you’re secretly Bruce Wayne, which is really more how I think of Wyatt—you’ve met Wyatt Haines, haven’t you? He’s dating Jo. Lucy’s cousin? Lucy, whose wedding you tried to sabotage? And Green Knight makes you sound like you’re either really eco-conscious or only care about money. Blue Knight would be depressing, because you’d be blue, right? And no one likes a brown knight. Maybe yellow? Do you like yellow? Or gray! Definitely gray. But not
50 Shades of Grey
or anything, just like,
gray
gray. Shall I put you down as the Gray Knight?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are a very unusual person, Bubbl—um, Brittany?”

She beamed. “All the time. So ten o’clock?”

“Perfect. And Brittany? I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I am that the demon I summoned harassed you.”
Amends, check.

“Oh, that’s okay. It was kind of fun. I’d never been kidnapped by a demon before.”

Prometheus blinked, momentarily thrown. “Right.”

“And besides, if you hadn’t sicced that demon on me, I never would’ve spent time with Luis and gone salsa dancing and learned how to do laundry. So in the end, it was a good thing. I should be thanking you.”

“I don’t think Rodriguez thinks I’m quite so worthy of thanks.”

Brittany shrugged. “He worries about me. But he’ll come around. He’s a big ol’ romantic and once he realizes that it’s all part of your master plan to woo Karma, he’ll melt like a popsicle.”

Prometheus tried to picture the tattooed tough guy melting and couldn’t quite make it stick. “I’m not wooing Karma.”

“Well, of course you don’t
call
it that, but I’ve got eyes, don’t I?” She cocked her head toward the office and Prometheus was reminded that he’d had an armful of Karma when Brittany had burst in on them. “You may have some pretty unorthodox methods, but the way I see it, Karma could use some unorthodox in her love life. For someone who deals in the weird for a living, she sticks way too tight to the straight and narrow, if you ask me.”

“Are you giving me your blessing to date your boss?”

“Sure! But if you break her heart, there are a couple dozen consultants with some really nasty tricks up their sleeves who won’t hesitate to kick your kiester into next week. Just so you know.” Even her threats were delivered with a glowing smile. They’d broken the mold with Brittany.

“Thanks.”

She beamed. “Any time.”

The next vision caught her as soon as she relaxed her vigilance. It was after eight, the office quiet and empty. She glanced up from the back-up computer she’d just finished bringing up to date since the one on her desk had been fried by activities she
would not think about
and allowed herself the weakness of rubbing at her dry, exhausted eyes. That’s when the image slammed into the back of them, pulling her under with startling force.

She was Ciara again, but this time there was no water—only gunfire. The visuals were a jumble—people moving and not moving, shooting and not shooting—three possible futures in an Atlantic City hotel room overlaid over one another in a flickering mess. But whichever future won, it happened soon. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.

Karma cursed and lunged for her phone. She called the Feds, the Atlantic City PD, and would have called the National Guard if she’d had their number, and then she could do nothing but wait, pace and try to throw her brain open to another vision, one that would hopefully tell her what the hell was happening in that hotel room two hundred miles away.

She’d been blocking the visions all day. After the drag-you-under-and-pummel-you drowning visions that had plagued her the last few days and stalked her consciousness all morning, all she’d wanted was a few hours of clear, calm thinking with no interruptions. She’d felt a few little nuisance nudges, but nothing to indicate mortal peril. Not that she always had warning. The trouble with free will was that it spawned a thousand possible futures and some of them never let her know they were coming.

But this one had. This one had been raising its hand and waiting to be called on all afternoon. She’d selfishly ignored it—she’d just needed a
break
—and it might have hurt Ciara, might have cost her finder her life after all. Four years of never getting a single worrisome twinge about Ciara and now every vision was of the petite finder in peril. Karma did
not
approve of this new handler’s influence.

When the phone call came, Karma’s double awareness shivered through her and she
knew
. Knew the police and feds had been too late, but that Ciara and her handler—
Nate, need to know his name, they’re in love now
—had saved the day themselves. And recovered the priceless necklace they’d been sent to find. With no help from Karma or anyone else.

Karma thanked the officer on the line and set the phone carefully back in the cradle, as if gentleness there could keep her own fragile parts from shattering.

Selfish. There was no other word for it. She’d been blocking her abilities, hiding from them, because she was scared of them, scared they would take her over, but in doing so, how many of her people had she hurt? Could she have unblocked Ciara years ago? Could she have saved Ronna from having to defend herself against a knife-wielding contract killer? If she had been open to her abilities, if she had actually known how to use them, how much good could she have done?

Karma hated the visions, had always hated them, from the moment they first crashed into her brain as a child, but was that hatred selfish? How could she claim to be fighting on the side of the angels if she wasn’t willing to take a little personal hardship for the greater good?

She pulled up her schedule for tomorrow. The Gray Knight at ten o’clock. Prometheus.

He’d offered to teach her. Had he been serious? She could never tell. But if he could help her, like he had today—
no, not like he did today. No kissing
.

She would need ground rules. If she let him teach her how to use her powers. Absolutely no touching. No kisses. No feather-light brushes along her neck. No crowding into her space with that you-know-how-good-I’ll-be temptation in his black eyes. Her knees would
not
go weak. They would remain on professional footing and once he’d taught her how to control her psychic impulses, rather than repress them, her people would find his heart and he would be on his merry way. He didn’t want her; he wanted what she could do for him. No risk of attachment there.