The Seven: A Taste for Jazz: Book 3 of The Seven series (2 page)

Thanks to everyone trying to make things right and re-open the portal, more of the Seven who walked the Dark Path had made their way to Earth. People Conner cared for elected to risk their lives and trap themselves on the other side to try to help the Light regain balance.

Conner's friend Gabriel was one of the Seven who'd crossed over. An Archangel with considerable powers, he was still not immune to the Dark powers on the other side and Conner feared for his well-being along with the others who accompanied him.

But perhaps his being there would effect change. He was, after all, royalty among the Angels.

Whatever the case, no one had heard from those who'd made the crossing and with the escalation of violence between The Seven and humans, he and the other leaders on the Council had staged a coup.

Asha Iltani was being held prisoner at an undisclosed location and The Seven had gone to ground.

It wasn't a difficult matter for his kind. They'd hidden their existence for thousands of years and were always prepared for a sudden need to change identities. So, Conner, the Shifter who commanded the territory governed from Colorado disappeared, and Rockwell Conner Burns was resurrected. More correctly, he was put back into play.

Conner had used the Rockwell Burns identity for years and had established Burns as a man who would "disappear" for years at a time, secluding himself away from society.

Conner liked Burn's identity and the name. He always managed to keep some part of his name when forced to change identities. Rockbridge was his original name and he'd used variations of it for a long time.

As Rockwell Burns, he was free to work on something of paramount importance to himself. The situation with his friends being trapped in the other realm. That vexed him to no end. There had to be a way to establish a control on the portal so it could be effectively monitored and even governed. Just as there had to be a way to undo the damage done to this world. If something was not done, it would not be a place anyone would want to call home.

That was another topic he never discussed.

Conner never talked about it because he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to consider the implications of what might happen if anyone found out he was close to a break-through. He didn't want to think about the man he'd come close to being, so obsessed with his science and the revenge he could exact using it , he'd nearly lost his soul.

At times he almost gave in to the demand inside him, the need to get back into the middle of things, the insistent plea of his intellect to apply his mind to more complex issues than the most effective technique of delivering a punch or kick, or how to get more speed out of his racing bike.

He fought the voices within that reminded him he had been blessed with a mind that possessed the potential to affect great change, assuaging his conscience with the promise that once he'd discovered the secret he was searching for, he'd find a way to make it beneficial not to just the Seven but to everyone.

Conner was smart enough to know there was no guarantee the world would benefit if he succeeded. He'd been around long enough to understand there were those who would do anything necessary to bury it. The cost to those few would be enormous. Empires who'd ruled the global economy would fall. There was too much money and too much power at stake.

Not his concern. He wouldn't think of those things. He'd made sure everyone who knew Rockwell Burns was convinced he was no longer interested in research. His life now centered on much simpler things. Fighting, bikes and women.

The latter had proven to be a continued source of dissatisfaction. It wasn't due to a shortage of women. Particularly in an area like Kissimmee. This was resort central, with at least half a million tourists in the area on any given day of the years, many of them women eager for an adventure while their children played in the magic of the kingdom of Disney and their husbands chased little white golf balls over pristine green fairways.

Conner, or Rock as he thought of himself now, stuck to the married ones, women keen on the idea of a holiday fling with a roughneck biker. He gave them a ride on his bike, rode them hard for a few days and then parted ways, moving onto the next eager temporary companion.

In some ways, he considered himself a whore. Selling his body in exchange for a few hours pleasure and distraction with no emotions involved.

Initially, it provided a thrill. The illicit affair, sneaking around, risking being caught. Now he'd grown tired of the game. The problem finding another option. He'd yet to meet a woman who challenged him, mentally or physically, and that was what he secretly desired.

But desires, he'd learned, were far too often left unfulfilled. And it seemed to be his lot in life to fail in the quest for a meaningful relationship.

Pushing aside thoughts of what he did not have, he pressed the bike for a little more speed. Maybe it was a day for speed after all. If his demons were going to pursue him, then he'd just make sure they had to move fast to catch up with him.

*****

Jazz let Stanzia finish before she spoke. "Look, I'm not calling you a liar. It's pretty clear that you believe all this. But I have to be honest with you. It doesn't track with me. It's too...far out. Besides, it's not my line of work. I'm a bounty hunter. I've done some bodyguard gigs from time to time, but baby-sit some brain-trust MIT shifter dweeb?"

"You're his only hope," Stanzia said in way of an answer. "This man is vital to us all, Jasmine—excuse me, Jazz. He must stay safe and finish his work. It's our only hope of turning back the damage that's already been done to this world. Without this invention, the decimation of the atmosphere and the poisoning of the planet will continue until Mother Nature will have no recourse but to take matters into her own hands. And that—well, that will spell the end of everything man has built."

"You're convincing. I'll give you that. But I'm still just not buying it. In fact, I think I'd like to wake up now, so maybe I'll just close my eyes for a bit."

She did just that. Leaned back, stretched her legs out in front of her, crossed at the ankles, and closed her eyes.

Stanzia rose and left the room. She returned a few moments later with a large hand-bound book. She placed it on Jazz's lap as she retook her seat on the divan.

"What's this?" Jazz opened her eyes and glanced down at the book.

"Open it."

With a sigh, Jazz straightened in her seat and opened the book about halfway through its contents. On the left-hand page were incomprehensible scribbles. On the right hand page was a large mandala.

"Okay." Jazz's gaze mover to Stanzia.

"Place your hand inside the mandala."

"On this thing?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Please."

"Fine." Jazz placed her hand, palm down, inside the circle of the mandala. A maelstrom of swirling images and sounds sent her mind spinning, separating her from the reality of her own body.

When she was abruptly released and found herself once more sitting on the divan with Stanzia, she shoved the book away and did something she hadn't done since she was ten. Burst into tears.

Stanzia remained silent. At length Jazz's sobs turned to hiccups and sniffles and she turned her gaze to Stanzia. "It's horrible. Horrible. What was that and please tell me you can take it out of my mind."

"I'm afraid it cannot be undone," Stanzia said softly. "What you experienced is a possibility of what may come to pass. If you turn your back on him."

Jazz shook her head, trying not to remember what she'd seen and heard. It was worse than any nightmare vision she could imagine To think it was something that could actually happen made her shake with cold dread.

She looked into Stanzia's eyes and for a long moment they were frozen, joined to one another in non-verbal communication that went deep into a place in Jazz's mind she had never accessed. All confusion, disbelief and indecision fled. Jazz knew herself to be a warrior at heart and this was the battle she had unconsciously been preparing herself for her entire life.

Her natural cockiness returned with a rueful smile. "Okay, I'm in. What do I do?"

"Prepare." Stanzia stood, offering her hand.

"I'm ready now."

"Actually, my dear, you are not. But soon you will be."

"Well, it seems to me that we don't have time to waste." Jazz didn't like to be told no, or to wait. Once she was committed, she was ready for action.

Stanzia laughed. "Time has little meaning here, my dear. When you return it will be as if no time has passed."

"Back to the shootout?" Jazz's right hand went reflexively to her gun.

"Oh no. Now come, take my hand and let us begin your training."

Jazz studied the picture of soft femininity standing before her and chuckled. "You're going to teach me how to fight?"

"Most assuredly."

Jazz stood and took her hand. "This should be interesting."

Stanzia laughed lightly. "You have no idea."

Chapter Two

I'm pretty sure I need to check into a psych ward. I mean, damn, this sort of thing is way beyond normal. And the screwed up part is I bought into it hook, line, and sinker.

So, the question is am I being played and if so, how is she accomplishing it? The skeptic in me says I should run, not walk, but run from this. But after what I saw how can I? If any of it is possible then how could I walk away with a clear conscience? And how could I ever think about collecting a bounty on anyone like him, most particularly him? He just might be superman.

And maybe that's the hook she got me with. I always did have a crush on Superman.

Jazz blinked and turned slowly, taking in her surroundings. "Whoa," she murmured appreciatively. When Stanzia told her all arrangements were completed for her housing, she wasn't lying. Jazz found herself standing in the foyer of a well-appointed house.

The foyer was tiled in white ceramic, with a twelve-foot door bordered by equally tall glass sidelights and topped with an arched window that spanned their width. A glass chandelier hung from the sixteen-foot ceiling.

Inside the foyer and to her right was a seating area of metal benches with fringed cushions and a bubbling fountain. To her left an entry table of metal and glass upon which sat an intricate metal lamp, flanked by two art deco sculptures of entwined couples. A large ornate mirror hung on the wall behind the table, reflecting the seating area and fountain. A large arched entrance led into the great room, a large airy room with cathedral ceilings.

What drew her eye was the wall of glass on the opposite side of the great room. At least twenty feet , from floor to ceiling, beyond lay a vision of tropical splendor. She crossed through the great room, admiring the furnishings, the enormous flat-screen television mounted on one wall, and the clean white tile of the kitchen and dinette, separated from the living area by a long granite-covered wet bar.

She slid open one of the massive glass doors and stepped outside onto a large covered lanai. Deeply padded wicker furniture sat beneath an enormous umbrella. Beyond was a sparkling pool with an unusual squat fountain, dumping a vertical line of water into the pool.

Massive palms and tropical plants she couldn't even begin to name bordered the paved patio in an interior planter. A towering metal and screen enclosure arched over the entire expanse of the pool, offering protection from pesky insects.

Surrounding the pool outside of the enclosure was a tropical garden that sloped down to meet a wide golf fairway.

"Wow." Stanzia had certainly hooked her up in the housing department. She'd never expected anything so luxurious.

Which had her taking a look at herself. She sure as hell didn't fit in with her black latex suit, boots and weapons.

She returned inside to explore the rest of the house, discovering a master bedroom suite with French doors that led out onto the pool patio, and large enough to house the king-size metal canopy bed and flanking nightstands, along with a couch, loveseat, tables and another large, flat-screen television in a custom wood cabinet.

Jazz couldn't resist lying back on the bed. "Oh baby," she crooned appreciatively. How she'd love to have a big hard body to romp with on this mattress.

Pushing aside thoughts of hot sex and sweaty bodies, she wandered into the master bath to discover what was surely every woman's fantasy. Two enormous walk-in closets formed the hallway to tiled paradise, with one of the largest tubs she'd ever seen, a huge walk-in shower and a frosted glass window dominating the wall beside the tub.

She retraced her steps to the closets, and opened the doors of one. Larger than her bedroom at home, the racked were filled with clothes, shoes, accessories, even a large lighted cabinet in the center of the room containing an assortment of jewelry.

Jazz flipped through the clothes hanging on the racks. All her size. And all in colors and styles she would have chosen for herself. She shook her head in amazement. How had Stanzia accomplished this?

She crossed through the house to the front door and walked outside. Several flyers lay on the welcome mat. She picked them up, intending on tossing them. But one caught her eye, advertising a special running at a local gym.

Having a place to work out was one of Jazz's requirements in life. In her line of work, staying in good shape was mandatory. She returned inside, tossed all but the flyer advertising the gym into the trash can and pulled out her cell phone to dial the number listed.

A gravely male voice answered. "Nash's Gym."

"Hi. I found this flyer on my door and wondered if the rate is still good?"

"Yep."

"Okay, thanks."She hung up the phone and leaned back against the counter, considering her next move. That's when she spotted the large envelope with her name in flowing script on the center island.

She tore it open and emptied out the contents. House key, car key, a vehicle key, her own identification, credit cards she'd never applied for and a wad of cash.

Leaving the items on the counter, she headed for the bathroom, where she stripped down, showered and went through the closet. She found a pair of tight bike shorts, a matching tank top with good support, socks, shoes and even a gym bag. With everything she needed at her disposal, she figured she might as well go check out the gym and workout. After that she'd cruise around and see if her "sense" picked up a trail on the dweeb.

She packed a change of clothes—low slung jeans and crop top—and tossed some toiletry items into the bag. A leather wallet caught her eye, so she grabbed it and headed for the kitchen where she put the driver's license, credit cards and cash into it and snatched up the three sets of keys.

She passed through the laundry room and opened the door to the garage. A grin split her face as she saw her mode of transportation. That Stanzia sure knew how to spoil a gal. Sitting in the garage was a shiny black Lotus Elise, without a doubt, her dream car.

Parked beside it was a Harley Fat Boy, with a custom paint job, metallic flaked black.

Jazz laughed out loud, all at once excited about her assignment. After all, how hard could it be? Live in a posh house, drive expensive vehicles and baby-sit a dweeb genius. Piece of cake. Well it would be as soon as she located him.

Confident she would locate her charge soon, she climbed into the Lotus. "Sweet," she said to herself as she put the key into the ignition and the garage door silently opened. "Too sweet."

Tuning the radio on to discover one of her favorite songs playing, she cranked up the volume, keyed in the address she'd read on the gym flyer and let the GPS provide directions.

With that done, she backed out, watching as the garage closed, and pulled out onto the street. It was time for the adventure to begin.

*****

Rock's ten a.m. client was late. He hated it when people were late, but figured he might as well use the time to his advantage. He put in an hour of weight training, and then some aerobics.

He was bent over, his upper body lying along the length of his legs, hands firmly behind him on the floor, when the door open and in walked a wet dream. That most prized bit of male anatomy jumped, making it necessary to spread his feet out to shoulder width, keeping the bend and watching the vision stop and take a look around the gym.

Jazz had no more than stepped inside the gym when her legs froze. Literally froze. Rooting her in place. Across the gym, on a wide stretch of padded mat, was absolutely the most delicious male butt she'd ever seen. Her eyes moved across the enticing sight to the strong legs that supported it and lower. About the time she reached calf level she saw the man's face. Watching her.

And what a face. Strong chiseled features, heavy dark brows and eyes the color of molten bronze, blazing vividly from his tanned face.

A flash of white teeth in that perfect face had her wishing she'd worn underwear because the crotch of her shorts felt decidedly moist. She removed her sunglasses, keeping her eyes locked with the god across the way. For several long moments they engaged in the initial battle, neither of them blinking. She felt the energy as strong as if he was a foot away instead of clear across the gym, and it was energy that had lust spiking high and fast.

She almost forgot why she was there. That fact alone jolted her. She was never that affected by a man. She was accustomed to having an effect on them, but never in her life had one made her want to throw him on the floor, tear his clothes off and ride him until they were both weak from exhaustion.

To compound her unease, her tracking senses had kicked into high gear. Which meant that her gift had activated. Jazz didn't understand the mechanics of how her gift operated. She didn't need to. She simply accepted it.

She'd read the information on Doctor R. C. Burns and had mentally filed it away. Sooner or later she'd start to pick up a signal on him, one that would lead her to him.

If she was picking up signals now, it meant that her target was somewhere in the vicinity. Part of her wanted to rush back to her car and give in to the gift to see where it would take her.

But her female nature was in control at the moment, and nothing short of a nuclear explosion would make her leave this place and the hunk it housed.

The hunk started to straighten from his bend and released her from the force that had her feet glued to the floor. She experienced a stab of disappointment when the moment ended, but also one of anticipation. There was no way she was leaving this place without having an encounter with the man. She was as certain of that as she was of her name.

Rock willed his erection to fade. That was an almost impossible task, looking at the woman across the gym. Full breasts snuggly encased in a skin-tight black tank top, a narrow waist and hips that flared just the right amount over long strong legs, formed a body that was criminal to conceal in clothing.

Her hair was dark and long, cascading down her back nearly to her waist in loose curls. Her face was a curious blend of ethnicity. Elegant jet brows arched over large almond eyes of the most unusual shade of green. High cheekbones and taut skin the color of a caramel latte, and full pouty lips that begged to be kissed, formed a face that was not of classical beauty, but one of erotic and exotic appeal. The kind of face that belonged in a dream of passion and heat.

Her eyes didn't hesitate to lock with his, and when they did , a jolt ran through him that had his balls tightening. His mind registered the shock a moment before his body. This was one potent woman. Clearly confident and self-assured, she wasn't afraid to let her eyes communicate her interest.

Rock wanted to rip that black spandex from her body and lick every inch of her latte skin. He had to know who she was. He started to straighten. By the time he was upright and turning toward her, Ed had exited the office and was yelling in her direction.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, we spoke on the phone." She headed toward Ed in a smooth, powerful stride that struck a surprising cord in Rock. She moved like a martial artist, her center of gravity low and secure, and her movements fluid and controlled.

"Ed Nash." Ed reached her and stuck out his hand. "Have any trouble finding the place?"

"None at all, Mr. Nash." She took his hand and gave him a brilliant smile.

"Ed." He grinned back at her.

"Thanks, Ed. I'm Jazz Boudreaux. I'd like to pay you upfront for the first month and then see how it goes after that. If that's okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, and then paused. "You look like a gal who knows her way around a gym."

"I've been a time or two," she said with a smile.

"Want a job?"

"Huh?"

"A job. You got any training in martial arts or kickboxing?"

"Actually yes. A couple of black belts but never competed."

"It'll do. Assistant trainer quit last week and it's a bitch—'scuse the French—with the UFC bout coming up in Tampa. Everybody and his brother wants to get trained."

"Well, I'm not exactly experienced in the whole Ultimate Fighting thing, Ed."

"Doesn't matter. Just need someone who can spar with the fellas. "He broke out into a laugh. "And damn if it wouldn't be a hoot to see a couple of 'em get their ass kicked by a broad—uh, woman."

Jazz laughed along with him. "What makes you think I can go the distance?"

Ed thumbed his nose and grinned. "Got a nose for a fighter. Whaddaya say?"

Inside she was cheering, doing a happy dance and screaming for joy at the wonderful stroke of luck. Working at the gym would give her plenty of opportunities to cozy up with the hunk.

"I say what the heck—sign me up."

"Atta girl. Okay, you start today. You got gear?"

"Sorry, no. Wasn't counting on anything but a workout today.

"No problem. Come on back to the office and I'll fix you up."

Jazz followed him to his office, cutting a look over her shoulder at the hunk just before she entered the door. He was watching with a curious expression. She wondered what he was thinking.

What Rock was thinking was all right! Providence must have decided not just to smile on him, but grin. Chicks loved the whole trainer deal. As soon as he told them he was a trainer they started cooing about how much they'd love to be trained. He'd been known to be quite accommodating in that respect. So what was she into? Weights, maybe some self-defense techniques? Only one way to find out and that was to ask. He draped his towel over one shoulder and headed for the office.