His chest expanded with a breath, making her acutely aware of just how much of her was pressed against him. Hard, masculine contours flattened her breasts. Her thigh brushed his, and the heat of him sank right through her riding leathers.
That small part of him was hers now, connecting them in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “If there’s anyone left on this planet that you care about, then you owe it to them to shut down that portal before it’s finished.”
He was right. She’d been running away for a long time now. At first it had been all she could do, but now that she’d healed—mostly—there were no more excuses.
She shoved away from him, breathing deeply to depressurize some of the intense vibes this man threw off. “Tell me about the job.”
She could almost hear his sigh of relief. Whether it was due to her moving the knife or because of her interest in the job, she couldn’t tell.
“There’s an abandoned warehouse a couple hours’ drive from here. They’re using it to hide their work, but I . . . felt what they were doing.”
“Felt?” She peeked over her shoulder.
He waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. “It’s this thing I can do—sensing the innate powers within an object. And the portal they’re building is powerful enough that when I got within a few miles, I knew what they were doing, and that the hammer was aiding their efforts.”
“So why not just get a bunch of explosives and blow the place to hell?”
“One, because gathering explosives would draw too much attention. Two, even if I had them, there’s no way I’d be able to get in and plant them without being caught. And three, chances are there are innocent people in there, being used.”
Simone knew all too well about that part. “You sure?”
“Something’s fueling their construction efforts. I really doubt it’s the local power and light company.”
“So you want me to go in and plant explosives?”
“No. I want you to steal the hammer. It’s one of the few tools around with enough juice to build something that powerful. If we take it away, then they have to stop building.”
“Until they find the next tool.”
“Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. You stealing the hammer was the best plan I could come up with that wasn’t going to get anyone killed.”
“With a plan like that, you need me for more than just stealing.”
He frowned at her. “You don’t like my plan? Fine. Give me a better one.”
“For starters, we could let someone else deal with it.”
“Who? The police?”
“Of course not. The Fractogasts would plow through them.”
“Then who?”
“I hear rumors about a group of people arming up to deal with the threat.”
“The militia?”
“Yeah. You’ve heard of them, too?”
“I am one of them. And we’re not a group of superheroes who are going to swoop in and save the day. We’re just people. Like you. We’re all trying to do what we can to fight back the invasion.”
“Well, hell. For a while there, I actually had some hope that someone was in charge.”
“Someone is in charge, but we’re stretched thin. It’s one of the reasons I reached out to you for help. If we’re going to have any chance of winning, we need more people fighting—people who know the score.”
“I don’t fight for free.”
“Why do you think I spent the last several weeks working my ass off eighteen hours a day to make that purse to your ridiculously demanding standards?”
The way he said it made her sound like a greedy harpy instead of a savvy businesswoman.
Luckily, the pang of guilt didn’t last long. “You’ll thank me for my high standards if I agree to do the job.”
“My offer is on the table. Do you want it or not?”
She wanted that purse and the knives. And if she was completely honest with herself, she wanted to kill every Fractogast she could get her hands on. Slowly.
The only downside was the risk. Not that she was risking much. The life she’d carved out for herself since Jeremy’s death hadn’t exactly been a happy, shiny place.
“Fine,” she told him. “I’ll help you. It’s obvious you’ll get yourself killed if I don’t tag along.”
Sarcasm honed a sharp edge on his tone. “I’m sure my death would cost you many sleepless nights.”
“I would mourn the loss of that purse. And the knives.”
“We can’t have that now, can we?”
“Nope.”
“So, you’re in?”
“All the way. But if you die doing something stupid, the purse is mine. Deal?” She held out her hand to shake on it.
Brighton wrapped his fingers around hers and held on tight. She felt warm, work-roughened patches of skin graze across nerve endings she’d thought long dead. A tiny little spark of feminine interest zinged along her palm and into her wrist, shocking the hell out of her.
How long had it been since she’d felt that? Too many years to remember, and every one of them had sucked.
Feeling like a dirty cheater, she jerked her hand away and wiped it on her thigh.
“I don’t have cooties,” he said, half grinning at her actions.
“You drive. I’ll follow behind on my bike.”
Well out of reach of Marcus Brighton and those magic hands.
Marcus spent the two-hour drive gathering his wits. Something he’d done had spooked Simone, and the last thing he needed was for her to be distracted on this job. Even if she did come up with some ingenious plan, they were still risking their lives.
He parked on top of a hill overlooking the industrial park where the Fractogasts worked. His windshield wipers cut through the fine coating of drizzle a passing rainstorm had left behind.
There were few lights below—only a red pool here and there dotting the darkness. Just enough for human eyes to function.
The passenger door of his RV opened and Simone glided into the seat next to his.
He made it a point not to look at her and distract himself with her beauty. Even so, the wild, spring-storm scent of her wrapped around him, demanding attention.
“This is the place?” she asked.
“Yes. I can feel the portal they’re building.”
“Handy trick.”
He spared her a quick glance. Her dark hair was pulled back and bound at the nape of her neck with a barrette. Power shimmered from the copper clip, but the trace was too small for him to figure out what kind of magic the hair adornment held.
“The device is nearly complete.”
“How nearly?” she asked.
“No way for me to be sure. Days? Hours?”
“Give me a minute to scout the place out. When I’ve found a way in, I’ll come back for you.”
She already had the door open before he grabbed her arm. Hot leather and firm, feminine muscles teased his hand, forcing him to fight the urge to let his fingers wander. He’d spent thousands of hours touching leather, enjoying its texture and suppleness, but never before had any surface intrigued him half as much as what lay beneath her biker’s jacket.
Simone stared at his hand as if she couldn’t believe he’d dared to touch her.
It took him a second to steady his voice so it wouldn’t come out as a prepubescent squeak. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Your willingness to restrain an armed woman seems to support the theory.”
He lifted his hand, but settled it on the back of her seat—close enough to stop her if she tried to bolt again. “You weren’t going to scout. You were going in there alone.”
A smile twinkled in her smoky green eyes and curled at the edge of her mouth. “Guess you’re not an idiot.”