The Djinn's Dilemma (2 page)

Using the knife, Skinny indicated her bag. “Just hand it over and no one gets hurt.”

She took a step back. Sweat trickled down her neck. Could she outrun them back to the building?

“Oh, you want to play,” the larger guy leered. His hands moved to the top button of his jeans. “I’m game. I like to chase pussy.”

Her stomach lurched. Bile, bitter and hot, coated her throat. She jerked the canister of pepper spray out and aimed it at them.

Their eyes widened as jitters rolled off their skin. Drugs? Cold, hard despair coiled in her gut. There’d be no reasoning with junkies. She firmed her stance, ready to fight.

But the two thugs backed away. The knife dropped from Skinny’s shaking hand and landed on the ground with a metallic clunk that reverberated inside her.

Sarah shook the can in what she hoped was a threatening gesture and scowled. “I know how to use it too.” For good measure, she jammed her finger down.

“I thought you said this was gonna be no trouble.” Skinny whipped away from the spray. “Looks like trouble to me.”

His partner shook his head. “We ain’t getting paid enough to take that on,” he said. “Let’s beat it.” The two swiveled around and dashed through the shrubs.

Wow. She was going to buy pepper spray for every female she knew. The disappearance of her would-be assailants flushed away Sarah’s panicked bravado, left her with the shakes. Her shoulders slumped and a long sigh petered out.

“Well, that was easy.” The voice that emerged from behind her was dark and smoky like good rum, flowed soft and hard in unexpected places.

She couldn’t place the accent. Eastern European? Middle Eastern? Gripping the canister in her hand, she slowly pivoted.

A broad chest snug in a sweat-stained gray T-shirt greeted her. Her head craned back.

“Man oh man.” The guy was big. Bigger than the other two put together. Big, silent and overwhelming, like night personified. His dark hair, thick and full, fell in unruly waves that just brushed his broad shoulders, swept away from a high forehead. Ocean-blue eyes, striking against his dark tan, stared at her full of concern.

Damn it, she was a reporter, not a romance writer. The guy could be in cahoots with the other two. Maybe it was a plot to make her think he’d rescued her and to get close. Her grip on the bag tightened. If she survived this, she’d have to give a description to the police. Something useful, an identifying mark, not a description that would make her a laughingstock.

“Are you okay?”

She managed a nod, as her gaze traveled from his tempting cupid-bow mouth, down his thick, sweaty neck. Black tattoos swirled and licked across his skin, then disappeared under the gray T-shirt, only to emerge in a wild flourish to wrap around the rippling muscles of his bicep and flow down his left arm. Tattoos could be useful for identification, but a wave of desire washed through her, leaving her dizzy. She swayed.

He took a step forward. The movement set her free and she stumbled back. “What do you want?”

“Looked like you were in trouble.” He shrugged. Her eyes followed the motion of his bullish shoulders. “I just wanted to help.”

“Thanks.” However, journalism and suspicion went together like chocolate and peanut butter. Her gaze locked with his. “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you at the paper.”

A dark flush speared across his chiseled cheekbones. He managed a sheepish grin. “I parked in the paper’s lot for quick access to the trail,” he said, and waved a careless hand to the side. Sarah glanced and made out a suggestion of a dark, trucklike shape in the gloom. “I was returning from my run, when I saw you and your company.”

His sweat-stained T-shirt and dark shorts supported his story. Her eyes traveled lower, checked out his nice-sized package, lingered over his tanned thighs. What the heck was wrong with her? She was tired and traumatized. But she knew danger could be a turn-on, a way to say thanks for being alive. Nothing more than a heightened reaction. She needed to go home.

“I-I didn’t hear you approach.”

His level gaze met hers. “You were kind of preoccupied.”

His words made absolute sense and carried no threat, yet a shiver jackbooted across her spine. She blinked.

“Thanks for coming to help.” She licked her lips. “Who are you?”

“Rukh.” The way he rolled his
r’
s set off an answering purr inside her.

“I’m Sarah. Sarah Jasmine White,” she said, extending her hand.

He gave a quick nod as he extended his. Their fingers met, his hand engulfed hers. A dizzying jolt of electricity surged through her and hot unadulterated need exploded deep within her gut.

Sarah’s breath rushed out as she pulled her hand from his and stepped forward. She reached up, let her fingers slide into his hair, and pulled his dark, scowling face down as she kissed him.

He stood rigid and frozen in her arms. His hot breath caressed her cheeks.

Her wanton tongue traced over his lips.

A soft moan escaped him, leaving behind a half-opened mouth and ragged breath.

Sarah slipped her tongue in, and tasted warm, dark chocolate.

She winced as he grasped a fistful of her curls and kissed her back. His tongue, lips and teeth worked her. Angry, demanding and hungry. As the kiss grew, everything physical between them—flesh, muscles, bones—seemed to evaporate. Until his taste invaded every pore.

Need pooled hot and wet at her core.

With a shudder, he broke the kiss and pulled in a gasping breath. His body heaved against her.

“Thank you, Rukh.” OMG, she’d just jumped the poor guy. Burning with shame, and the lingering imprint of the kiss, Sarah turned and ran to her car. She wrenched open the door, threw herself in, slammed and locked it. With shaking fingers, she tried to insert the key into the ignition. The damn thing slid all over the place.

On her third try, the key went in and twisted, and the car rumbled to life. Only then did she swallow and look out her window.

He stood and watched her, almost melting into the shadows.

What the hell just happened? Rukh wondered as he watched the taillights of Sarah’s car disappear.

Too many things that shouldn’t have happened. He rubbed his stinging lips.

Sarah Jasmine White was dangerous, unpredictable. He took a deep breath. Exhaled. Focusing on his breathing, he crouched low and broke into a run. When he’d gathered enough speed, Rukh launched himself into the ethereal plane to follow her at a safe distance. Staying out of sight wasn’t the issue since humans were blocked from that dimension, but staying out of touching, kissing, influencing range seemed imperative. The woman played havoc with his control.

A harsh breath spilled out of him as he rode the air currents, moving toward his destination. Then there’d been the other djinn in the parking lot. As soon as he’d stepped out of the building, awareness had knocked into him and Rukh’s essence had vibrated like a tuning fork going nuts. He’d known, even though the other had been cloaked and hidden. Was he or she just a curious rubberneck?

The djinn world and human world intersected in certain places and thrived parallel to each other. Sometimes the veils between the two thinned like worn cloth, unraveled in places, and glimpses from both sides were possible. Fortunately, not too often.

Or had there been a purpose behind the presence? He couldn’t even begin to guess. Not being sure shattered his calm, made him waver in flight.

Rukh shook his head clear and concentrated on the view below. Lights lit up downtown buildings, the pink dome of the State Capitol, the white-and-orange University of Texas tower. City lights glittered like spilled jewels underneath him and the streaming lights of vehicles moved like underwater fireworks. The breathtaking display calmed his inner turmoil.

Stay calm, stay in control. Assassin 101.

Yeah, he aced that one. Not. And the blame lay, largely, with Sarah.

Just seeing her and her aura of sainthood had shaken him. Her jumpiness through the parking lot had set him further on edge. The new djinn hadn’t helped. Could she feel both their presences? Impossible.

When the two humans had stepped out of the shadows, he’d almost leapt at them. Fortunately, years of training had kicked in and he’d stayed invisible. So had the other djinn.

Rukh had probed their minds instead. At first he’d been reassured. The two had been hired to snatch her purse. To tell the truth, relief had swept through him as he realized what his client had meant by last resort. He wouldn’t have to kill her after all.

Relief had turned to ash as he suddenly got bombarded with lewd, ugly images from the bigger asshole’s head. Granted, Sarah with her lush curves and long legs was hotter and more sinful than all of hell combined…but still, no woman—especially one with such an aura of goodness—deserved to be brutalized and forced. The guy considered rape an unexpected bonus of the job.

Red, hot rage had washed over Rukh, blinded him. He’d decided to intervene. Ironic in hindsight since his job was to off her. The unknown djinn had disappeared about that time.

Rukh had materialized his head first. Seeing a disembodied head glowering at them with flaming eyes had made both toughies gawk.

Next he’d smiled, showing his teeth, and the runt had dropped his knife.

The grand finale had been a whole lot of blue-gray smoke roiling into existence and congealing into a muscle-bound body, dressed like a gladiator and armed with a wicked-looking sword.

Okay, so the flaming eyes, roiling smoke and sword had been a bit much. But hey, those two punks deserved to be punked. In fact, they’d gotten off light. They’d probably chalk it up as drug-induced hallucinations once they came off their high. Another plus, they wouldn’t dare share their experience…and if they did who’d believe them? Modern humans, for the most part, were clueless about djinns.

The original plan had been to fade again. Unfortunately, he’d come up with the harebrained idea of introducing himself. Touch, he’d theorized, would strengthen his link to Sarah and enable him to peek into her mind.

The handshake hadn’t worked.

Instead, she’d kissed him.

And what a kiss. For a moment, all barriers between them had melted and her mind lay open like a book waiting to be read. One look at her raw desire for him and all his other thoughts had fled. She’d ceased to be Sarah and become Jasmine to him. He’d gawked, frozen like a virgin, and then almost lost himself in her. Damn, it had been too long, and it had felt good. Better than good.

He should never have let that kiss happen. Ha, like he let it happen. Jasmine had taken control. A shiver of delight rushed through him. He’d never had a woman make the first move. Most human females got spellbound and submissive around him, and most djinn females expected to be ravished by the exotic hybrid.

Even as his head warned him off, Rukh’s body craved Jasmine.

A spider prickle of recognition skittered down his spine, as effective as a cold shower. His djinn radar was raging. Either Austin had an uncommonly large infestation of djinns or the same one had turned up again like a leech of a car salesman. Icy foreboding gathered in Rukh’s gut.

Holding tight onto his invisibility, he searched the ether. Again the djinn was shadowed, however his handiwork lay exposed. Heavy, dark clouds massed, as if ordered by a general, at a point right above Sarah’s tiny blue car. From above it looked like a robin’s egg lost from a nest. Thunder boomed and lurid purple lightning cracked the sky, warning of an impending storm.

Shit. What he had here was one bad-ass djinn. One who could control several elements—water, fire, air—and create the worst kind of chaos. And for some reason Bad Ass appeared to be targeting Sarah.

A bolt of lightning shot down through the air. The little car jumped. Sparks flew every which way. Another bolt hit home.

Rukh pulled together all the wind power he could muster and plummeted down to earth. He had to reach Jasmine.

Sarah sat dazed and frozen as she watched an eerie silver web of electricity dance across the front of her car. The shower of bright sparks was both beautiful and scary.

Until a second bolt hit and blew out all the car windows.

She huddled in her seat, screaming. Damn it. Even though she’d reached her complex, she wanted to be home. Under the covers.

This time when the electrical sizzle died off, she thrust open the door and rushed into the rain. Her apartment building stood only a few yards away.

A gust of wind blew her to the ground. Lightning hit the tree next to where she’d stood just seconds before. With another scream she turned away from the brilliant light of destruction. The wind grew stronger, buffeted her and blew her forward toward the apartment. Invisible hands pushed and pulled at her. For a moment she had the unnerving sensation of almost being carried.

The storm tossed her into the covered landing area, past the doors of the ground floor apartments, and onto the bicycles parked for the night. Her yelps got lost amid the clatter of metal and roar of wind. Sarah untangled her limbs from handlebars and wheels and forced herself to stand.

She ran up the stairs to her apartment, shaking with fear. Once inside, she locked the door and turned on all the lights in quick succession until her apartment blazed. She missed the people, the hustle-bustle of the newsroom. Tears burned her eyes. She should have hung around until some of the others were ready to leave. What an idiot. What a narrow escape—both from the men and the storm.

Sarah looked herself over. Bruised, scratched and sniveling, but still alive. She dashed away her tears.
I’m okay. I’m okay.

The empty apartment had her skin crawling with the heebie-jeebies. She switched on the television and clicked to CNN. The murmur of the reporter’s voice filled the room and helped calm her nerves a bit.

She sank down into the worn denim futon from her old college days, curling her legs underneath her. The lumps had adjusted to fit her body. What had the guy meant when he’d said they weren’t getting paid enough? Was that his way of referring to how much cash he expected to find in her purse? Ha! The job, while interesting, came with lousy hours and lousier pay. You did it because you loved it. In the hopes that time, hard work and enough good stories would lead to the big time or at least management positions and better pay.