The Stone Warriors: Damian (25 page)

Damian chuckled right behind her, so close that she could feel the warm rush of his breath. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be good.”

She shivered. That’s what she was worried about. He
was
good. Very, very good.

“Come on,” he said, dropping the duffel onto the long dresser and turning her around with both hands on her shoulders. “You’re exhausted. You take the first shower—”

“I need to call Lilia, figure out where they’re going.”

“Lilia?”

“Nick’s personal assistant. I have an idea—”

“You can call her after you shower,” he insisted, walking her to the bathroom and turning her through the doorway, swatting her butt to get her moving when she just stood there.

She scowled at him over her shoulder, but the swat had the desired effect. Closing the door, she turned on the hot water, then stripped off every piece of clothing before realizing she hadn’t brought anything in with her to change into. She briefly contemplated putting her clothes back on and venturing out to grab some fresh ones, but that seemed like way too much work. So instead she pulled back the shower curtain—she
hated
shower curtains—checked it for mold, and then, finding it clean, ducked under the water and pulled the curtain shut.

The water pressure was exactly what she’d expected—which was crappy—but it was hot and clean, which was everything she wasn’t. She stood under the weak spray for a long time, letting the heat seep into her bones. Eventually, she opened the small bottle of shampoo and sniffed, then poured it over her head, and washed her hair. She rinsed, added the complimentary conditioner, and let it sit while she tried to avoid thinking about everything that had happened in the past few hours. It didn’t work. She felt . . . contaminated. Even though Damian had killed Graham in the other room where she wouldn’t have to see it, in her mind’s eye, she was splattered with the man’s blood, sticky with bits of pink flesh.

Using the provided bar of soap, she washed every inch of her body, then went back and did it all over again. Even the bottoms of her feet got scrubbed, and between her toes. She was overreacting; she knew it. She frequently dealt with bad people, and some of them were bad enough that they’d tried to kill her, so she’d killed them first. But tonight, she was overwrought, at her literal wit’s end. Between the freezing cold stench of that awful room, and then the dead body in the kitchen, and the persona she’d been forced to adopt in order to get the information she needed from Graham . . . she had nothing left to give.

She just stood under the hot water, and kept scrubbing the filth from her body. She probably would have rubbed off some of her skin if Damian hadn’t opened the bathroom door to admit a sobering draft of cool air.

“I’m leaving some clothes on the sink for you,” he called over the shower.

It took her a moment to leave her world of scrubbing frenzy behind, but she managed to yell back her thanks with enough enthusiasm to convince him she wasn’t drowning. He closed the door, and she peeked around the shower curtain to see what he’d left her. A clean T-shirt and some underwear. She sighed. Once again, Damian had dug through her duffel and selected a pair of panties for her. Silky pink panties that she was supposed to wear to bed. The bed she’d be sharing with
him
. Sweatpants would have been the better choice, although she didn’t think even that would be enough armor to help her resist him. Hell, she didn’t even know if he’d try anything. Or if she wanted him to. She thought for a moment. No, she definitely wanted him to. And what did that say about her? That she was too weak to resist a relationship that couldn’t possibly go anywhere. As soon as he started meeting other women, she’d become just one more among many.

She finished her shower quickly after that, reminding herself that Damian might like to clean up, too. After all, he’d been the one dealing with dead bodies, not her. She rinsed her hair, then wrapped one towel around her head and another around her body and pulled the curtain back to discover that he hadn’t only provided clothes, he’d left her small cosmetic tote sitting on the sink. How could you resist a guy who understood the need for a comb and moisturizer?

On the other hand, there were the pretty pink panties. He’d probably had a great time picking out those.

When she was dressed and more or less ready, she opened the bathroom door, shivering slightly in the cooler air. It wasn’t actually cold; it just felt that way compared to the steamy bathroom. And her bare legs didn’t help any. Tugging down the T-shirt as much as she could, she ventured past the mirrored closet wall and around into the main room. Damian was there, looking pretty much the way he always did. He’d kicked off his boots and was sitting up on the bed, back against the headboard, pillows piled behind him, and long legs stretched out in front of him, with his computer open on his lap.

He looked up and smiled. “You look better.”

She could have made some snarky comment about his implicit suggestion that she looked bad
before
, but she didn’t have it in her. “I feel better,” she said instead. “The bathroom’s all yours.”

He nodded and went back to his typing. “In a minute,” he said without looking up.

Casey scowled. So much for worrying about them sharing a bed. There she was in her pink panties and bare legs, and he was ignoring her. Apparently, she was perfectly safe. She knew she should be relieved, but all she was feeling in that moment was disappointment.

“They have a coffee shop downstairs,” he said absently. “And they’ll do room service for a fee. The menu’s there on the desk.”

She did a quick scan of the desk and spotted the single piece of pink paper that served as a room service menu. It was fairly simple stuff, but it included cheeseburgers, which was good enough for her.

“Should I go ahead and order?” she asked, still perusing the menu. “Cheeseburgers and fries? How many will you—” She squeaked as two big hands slid beneath her T-shirt and settled against the bare skin of her belly.

“You smell great,” he murmured, his lips nuzzling her ear through her wet hair. “Your hair, too.”

Casey froze, her heart racing with something close to fear, even as a warmth filled her belly beneath the too-familiar heat of his hands. “Thanks,” she whispered and then wanted to groan.
Thanks? What the hell?
She shivered and her head fell back on his shoulder when his lips closed over her neck, his tongue a wet, warm sweep of sensation before he sucked gently and moved on until he reached the corner of her mouth.

“I like the panties,” he whispered.

Her heart felt like it was climbing up her throat. “You picked them out,” she managed to say, rather proud of herself for sounding cool and calm.

“I know,” he growled then slipped his fingers under the top edge of the silken material and teased downward, flirting with the edge of her pussy.

She sucked in a breath. Was he going to make love to her? Was this just a quick fuck to release adrenaline after a fight? Or was it something more? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

His teeth closed over her earlobe. “Delicious,” he murmured, and then abruptly straightened, his hands lingering only slightly as he took away their warmth and tugged her T-shirt back into place. “I’m going to shower. You should order some food. Two burgers for me, two fries, and a chocolate shake.”

Casey blinked at the sudden change in mood, but managed to take it in stride just as she did everything else, hiding her feelings behind a rigid self-control. “I’ll call it in,” she said, all cool and collected.
Move along, nothing to see here.

She heard the shower go on and fought against the picture that wanted to form in her head of Damian stripping off his clothes, and stepping naked under the hot water.

“Cassandra?” he said from way too close.

She spun around to see him leaning around the corner, his broad shoulders and muscular chest enticingly exposed. That mental image of a naked Damian took on a new dimension.

“Cassandra?” he repeated, and she blinked, forcing her gaze to his face, which was more than enough to contribute to her daydreams.

“Damian?”

“No onions on the burgers, yeah?” He gave her a playful wink, and ducked out of sight. A heartbeat later, she heard the slide of the shower curtain followed by splashing water.

“Damn,” she whispered. She would have liked to believe nothing was going to happen between them tonight. But that would have been a lie.

Nonetheless, she did what she could to armor herself against seduction. She pulled on her rattiest, most comfortable sweatpants, and a slouchy sweater whose neck was so stretched out that it kept falling off her shoulder. After adding a pair of heavy socks to keep her feet warm, she was wearing the uniform of a woman who planned to stay home alone and watch old movies. This was definitely not what one wore when a warrior god was whistling in the shower only a few feet away. And, yes, he really was whistling.

Casting a scowl in his general direction, Casey put their room service order in, and then opened her laptop. She wanted to organize all of her facts before she called Lilia. She pulled up a map of the area, but didn’t really need it. She had travelled this part of the country enough times to know the major cities and highways. But looking at the map helped her think. When she’d considered all of the options and everything they knew, she picked up her phone.

Lilia was Nick’s personal assistant. At least, that was her official title. But she did a hell of a lot more than you’d normally find on a PA job description. As far as Casey could tell, the woman lived on Nick’s rather expensive Florida estate, and, yet, there wasn’t a hint of romance between them. Not that Casey had ever seen, anyway. Nick was a bit of a dog when it came to women, with a girl in every port. Lilia . . . well, she didn’t seem to have a life outside of her job. So despite the late hour, nearly ten o’clock in Florida, Casey knew the woman would still be at the office. Or if not in the actual office, then at least reachable . . . because she always was.

“Casey, my love,” Lilia answered, her words redolent of the deep South. Casey didn’t know if that’s where she came from, or if she just liked the way it sounded. “I hear you’ve recovered a long-sought-after treasure.”

Casey considered how to respond. Lilia knew that Casey was chasing the Talisman—she always knew the details of the hunts Nick sent them on—but she apparently didn’t know that it had been recovered, and then lost again.

“Not yet I haven’t,” she admitted. “I had it in my hands, but it slipped away.”

“Oh, my,” Lilia breathed, doing an excellent impression of a Southern belle from all the bad movies. “Was it . . . big?”

She frowned. “I guess. I mean you could probably wear it around your neck, but—”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Lilia asked, dropping the breathless accent.

“The Talisman,” Casey said, puzzled. “What are you—” On the other side of the wall, the shower turned off. Damian. Lilia was asking about Damian. “Lilia Wilson, get your mind out of the gutter!”

She laughed. “Oh, come on, Case, like you haven’t been lusting after the man. Nick says he’s gorgeous, and
he
knows his stuff when it comes to looks, male or female. ”

“Staring at yourself in the mirror doesn’t make you an expert on good looks,” Casey observed tartly.

Lilia just laughed. “So you’re saying this Damian person
isn’t
gorgeous?”

“Of course, he is but—” She paused long enough to listen carefully, wanting to be sure Damian wasn’t eavesdropping on her conversation. He was sneaky like that. “We’re working together, Lili. We’re partners. And he’s still adjusting to this new reality. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage—” She stopped, pretty sure Lilia wasn’t listening anymore, considering her hoots of amusement.

“Oh, God,” the other woman finally said, sniffing away her tears of laughter. “Thanks, I needed a good howl. So, you’re fucking him, right?”

“Lili!” she said in exasperation, then sighed. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“Only you would find that complicated,” Lilia said with a sigh. “But tell me, in a perfect world, would you like to fuck him?”

“Nick’s right,” she whispered. “He’s gorgeous, okay?”

“And you’re whispering,” Lilia said, whispering herself. “Are you sharing a room? Ooooh, my. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

Casey started to agree, then realized she didn’t want to discuss the intimate details of Damian with anyone else. The memories of her time with him would be for her alone. But her silence spoke too loudly.

“Oh, Casey,” Lilia breathed. “You like him. Be careful, hon.”

“I know. I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. And not every man is a jerk like your idiot ex.”

“I know.” She sucked in a long breath. “But I didn’t call you to discuss my love life. I need a favor.”

“What can I do for you?” she asked, taking Casey’s cue and shifting to all business.

“I’m speculating here, but . . . I think they’re going to hit Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. You have that list of properties that we know belong to Sotiris, right?”

“Right. And you want me to see if any of them have suddenly gone active, anything that would suggest the bad guys are holing up there, waiting to strike. What timeframe?”

“Within the last week. The first whispers about the Talisman didn’t start until ten days ago, so they couldn’t have been planning it for much longer than that.”

“Unless they’ve known all along where the Talisman was, and just didn’t go after it until they were ready to use it.”

“Maybe. They clearly had safeguards set up in case anyone else tried to grab it. Like me. But if O’Hare’s their target, I still think they’ll have waited until the last minute to set up shop nearby. They know we’re after the device, and that we’ll try to stop whatever they’re planning. And they have to at least suspect that we can track their movements. So why advertise their presence?”