The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (12 page)

Phil
interrupted. “Who aren’t relatives.”

“Right, who
aren’t relatives,” Tom said, “that we were deliberately brought here to widen
the gene pool.”

“Though some of
the relatives date, just not their own family,” George said.

Phil gave George
a
well, duh
look. “Tom’s been here the longest. He’s had time to study
on this.”

“How long have
you been here?” James asked.

Tom ruffled his
hands over his dark hair. “A year and a half, and in all that time, only a
handful of women have been invited to study at the IECS.”

“Far as we can
tell, most of those were relatives of people who live or work here,” Phil
pointed out.

“True,” Tom
acknowledged, “which makes my case even stronger. The men invited here are,
without a doubt, some of the top minds in the world in their field. So, they’re
strongly intellectual and, more importantly, they’re all single.”

James stared at
Tom across the width of the table. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”
Phil slapped his hand against a muscled thigh. “And the women, the eligible
ones, are very straightforward. Not many game players here, if you know what I
mean.”

Tom nodded. “If
they want you, they say so, though I wouldn’t call any of the ones I’ve gone
out with promiscuous.”

“Nope,” Phil
agreed. “But there’s no hesitation. It’s like a meat market and we’re prime
rib, baby. Even George managed to snag a date or two before he got caught by
Lady Love.”

“It’s not like
that, guys,” George said softly.

“But you.” Tom
tilted the neck of his beer bottle toward James. “You’re already spoken for, so
rumor mill has it. The ladies might look, but they’ll never touch, not while
you and Maya are an item.”

“We’re not an
item,” James said evenly. He was beginning to wish they were, but that was a
far cry from actually being in a relationship with her.

“Poor,
delusional sap.” Phil slapped his back in sympathy, or maybe pity. James
couldn’t tell which, and maybe that was a good thing. Wasn’t it bad enough
everybody thought he and Maya had a thing going? Any more protests would only
add fuel to the fire.

A slow song came
on the jukebox, drowning out the baseball game. A few couples drifted onto the
dance floor. The staring guard appeared at George’s shoulder and tugged him out
of his seat. Two women James didn’t recognize claimed Phil and Tom, leaving him
sitting alone.

He glanced up,
searching for Maya. She was watching him, her expression impassive. She was
surrounded by women, and even as long as he’d been out of the game, he knew a
lone man didn’t approach a crowd of women in a bar. That was a sure path to an
ego’s quick and untimely demise.

Their gazes
caught and held, and the rest of the room faded away. Without a word, she handed
her pool cue off and glided across the room toward him.

Maya wended her
way across the bar toward James and called herself all kinds of fool for doing
so. She wanted him, yes, more and more each time they met, but actually
entering into a relationship with him seemed too much like tempting fate.
Hadn’t she learned her lesson already, more than once?

He sat calmly at
the table, watching her walk, and stood when she reached his chair. Maya took
his hand and led him to the small dance floor, hesitating on the edge as a
shaft of fear pierced her heart. She took a deep breath and willed herself to
overcome it.

I’m not afraid
of this. I refuse to give in to fear
.

James’ hand slid
to the small of her back. He guided her gently the rest of the way onto the
floor, as if he knew she needed an encouraging push. Maya steeled herself, then
slipped into his embrace. He took her right hand and held it against his chest
over his heartbeat, steady and strong. It filled her with courage, enough to
run her other hand down his shoulder and grasp his triceps. She admired the
firm muscle under her fingers, then slid her hand to the back of his shoulder
and stepped fractionally closer.

He was warm
against her, steady, and in his arms, she felt safe and comfortable and a
hundred other things she’d never expected to experience again with a man. Need
swirled inside her, hot and strong. She tried to tamp it down, to rein it in
and regain her reason, and failed miserably.

Other couples
moved by, talking softly or swaying to the music. James leaned down. His lips
brushed her ear and she shuddered as desire stabbed at her. She closed her eyes
and leaned into him a little more. Their legs brushed as they moved slowly in
time to the singer’s lyrical voice.

“So, what’s a
pretty girl like you doing in a gin joint like this?”

A startled laugh
erupted from her. “Girls’ night out. You?”

“Boys’ night
out. Phil, Tom, and George showed up on my doorstep an hour ago and shanghaied
me.”

“Mmm.”

He brushed his
chin against her cheek. His late day stubble scratched along her skin and liquid
heat swirled through her. Oh, yes. She preferred him a little scruffy.

“I have a
confession to make,” he said.

“Oh?”

“I’ve wanted to
hold you like this since that night at the bar in Borgholm.”

She drew away
and pinned a narrow-eyed stare on him. “Really?”

“Absolutely.
James, I said to myself, there’s a beautiful woman. You should make it a
priority to dance with her.”

“Do you always
have conversations with yourself?”

“Often, particularly
where beautiful women are concerned.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Funny.” James
relaxed his hold and met her gaze, an odd expression on his face. “You don’t
sound flattered.”

Maya drifted to
a halt. What had she been thinking? It really had been wrong of her to dance with
him, so horribly wrong to lead him on that way. “I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s
a good idea for us to get involved.”

“Who said we had
to get involved?” James pulled her back into the dance, cradling her body against
his at a distance that wasn’t quite decent. “We’re just two colleagues with a
lot in common who happen to be attracted to one another and are expressing that
attraction with a dance. That’s not involved. That’s exploring an opportunity.”

Maya breathed
out a laugh and relaxed against him. “And how far would you like to explore
that opportunity, Dr. Terhune?”

“Oh, as far as
you’ll let me, Dr. Bellegarde.” His grin was wicked and sharp, and held the heat
of a man enjoying his view. “I am a man.”

One song melded
into another. Couples left the dance floor, others entered it. It was so easy
to lose herself in his kindness, his calm. As they swayed to the music, she
felt as if she’d stepped out of the storm and into the deceptive safety of its
eye. “So this counts as a date, then?”

“A date is where
I pick you up and take you out to a nice restaurant, maybe a movie afterward.
We sit and talk and get to know each other, and then I take you back home and
try to sneak a kiss when I walk you to your door.”

She hid a smile
against his shoulder. “So that was your plan when you asked me out.”

“Yup. Dinner, a
movie, and a kiss. Sounds like a perfect night in my book.” He pulled her
closer and maneuvered them into a less crowded spot on the dance floor. “Unless
you’re into sports. We could have hotdogs and a game, and then a kiss. Hey,
whatever makes you happy.”

Maya snickered,
couldn’t help it. “What if I like opera?”

“That might be
pushing it. We manly men can’t be seen at such places.”

She shook her
head, amused by the banter. He seemed so shy, even reserved at times. It was
easy to overlook his sly sense of humor, easy to overlook how attractive that
humor was.

And she was
attracted, more so every day. In spite of that, Maya didn’t want to rush into
anything with him. She could
feel
that they were headed into something,
something she couldn’t quite make out. It was leading her, maybe leading them
both. She wanted desperately to not be afraid of that pull, but that didn’t
mean she had to give in to it completely.

They swayed through
several more songs, all slow and romantic, and they talked quietly about
nothing in particular, their bodies syncing to the music’s rhythm.

At nine o’clock,
Maya reluctantly pulled away, feeling for all the world like a young lover
facing the dawn and her parents’ stern disapproval. In this case, a
fourteen-year-old had set the curfew, not in disapproval, but so they could
have their ritual mother-daughter chat before bedtime. It wasn’t something Maya
easily surrendered, not when her job forced her away from Dierdre so often.

“Tomorrow’s
Thursday,” James said. “Any chance you’re going to take me up on my offer?”

Maya slid her
hand down the back of his arm. “I need to think about it, just a little more.”

“All right.” He
hesitated, then bent down and pressed his lips lightly to her cheek. “I’ll see
you tomorrow, then.”

Maya nodded and
left. Her thoughts lingered on him through the rest of the evening. She fell
asleep and dreamed of holding him under a moonless sky, their bodies entwined
in passion, their hearts beating to the rhythm of the music they’d danced to.

* * *

New York City
might be a Yankee town, but its summers were just as sweltering as any Southern
town Dani had ever visited. Night had fallen an hour ago and still the humidity
lingered. She eyed the low, thick clouds hanging overhead and hoped for rain,
even if it would ruin the outfit she’d chosen for that night’s work, black
leather pants, a matching lace-up tank top, and thick-heeled motorcycle boots,
also black and adorned with crisscrossing straps and shineless buckles.

A woman could
never have too many buckles.

And there was
her target, the man she’d followed a few nights earlier. He jogged toward her,
his long, muscled build a well-oiled machine, his attention on the path ahead
of him as if he had no idea she was waiting for him.

Well, how could
the dear man expect somebody to follow him, spend a week figuring out who and
what he was, and show up on one of his carefully randomized running routes,
waiting to ambush him with his secret?

And it was a
very big secret. Naughty boy.

He slowed to a
stop and bent over, his breaths panting out in regular huffs. Even in ragged
running clothes dampened with sweat, he caught her interest, though she
couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. His clean-shaven features were attractive in an
ordinary way, his dishwater blond hair cut close, his clothes chosen for their
plainness. He blended, deliberately so, just your average underworld stooge
working his way up the ladder of criminal success.

Not.

Dani stepped out
of the shadows. He glanced at her, his expression blandly curious, no more, no
less. Did he practice that look in a mirror or what?

“Hello, G-Man.”

He stood, hands
on hips, and inspected her from head to toe. “Do I know you?”

She shrugged.
“How could you? We’ve never met.”

“Ok.” He
appeared completely unruffled, as if he had conversations with strangers in the
middle of the night in a deserted park all the time. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, yes,” Dani
purred. She stepped closer, pleased when wariness flickering through his expression.
“So glad you asked. I need an inside man, Davy boy. You’ve got a lot of
practice at being an inside man, don’t you?”

His expression
went flat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be coy.”
She took another step and another, and planted herself inches away from him.
She caught the collar of his t-shirt between two fingers and twisted it
playfully as she leaned against him. “I need information and you’re gonna give
it to me.”

His hands came
up, grasping her elbows lightly. “Or what?”

She stood on
tip-toe and whispered, “Or I’m gonna spill your little secret into the wrong
ear and blow your cover.”

His fingers
tightened on her elbows and he hustled her into the shadows of the tree she’d
been using for cover. As soon as they were out of sight of the path, she
twisted her arm, loosening his hold. She brought her other arm across his body
and slammed it into his chest in a blow that would’ve knocked a less sturdy man
off his feet.

He grunted,
dodged a blow she aimed at his jaw, then swung her around and shoved her
against the tree, holding her there with the full weight and length of his body.
Her short staff dug into her spine where she’d anchored it earlier and she
wiggled, trying to ease the ache. He shot her a droll look and leaned harder
into her, bracing his forearms against the trunk above her head.

His head bent
toward hers. “What do you know?” he demanded in a low voice.

In the low light
from a distance, they’d look like lovers, if anybody was watching, which they
weren’t. She and her handy-dandy short staff had taken care of the little
problem of Feebi tails and criminal watch dogs alike.

Some days, she
loved her job, usually on the days when she got to crack skulls.

But she had to
wonder why Davy boy was being watched so heavily. That was something she hadn’t
dug up. Yet.

“I know who you
are.” She breathed deeply, inhaling the masculine scent of sweat and soap. Too
bad the dark masked the color of his eyes. Were they as deliberately bland as
the rest of him, or would they give her a different picture of him all
together? She shook her curiosity off and focused on the reason they were
there. “I know what you’re doing and I know why.”

“I doubt that.”

“Oh, Davy. Don’t
be naïve. An informant here, a computer hack there, and I know everything about
you from where you were born to the size of your shoe.”

“Jesus,” he
breathed.

“Hardly,” Dani
said drily. “Just money applied to the right person at the right time.”

“I want names.”
His voice was hard, uncompromising, and his body firm against hers.

Naturally, she
obliged, though probably not in the way he intended. Why make it easy for him? “David
Allen Winstead, twenty-nine years old. A Taurus, born and raised in a little
town outside Kansas City to a farmer and his wife. Graduated from Notre Dame
with honors and a degree in criminal justice, a minor in psychology.” She
hesitated, giving him time to understand that she really
had
found out
everything about him. “Were you deliberately aiming for a government law
enforcement job or were you just tired of growing wheat?”

“Oh, my God.” He
closed his eyes and beat his forehead twice against the tree’s trunk. “I’ve been
working on this case for two years and a castoff from a Goth vampire porn novel
blows my cover on a damn whim.”

Dani gaped, torn
between outrage and amusement, then remembered her outfit. Her lips curled into
a snarky smile.

Dave’s eyebrows
veed over an angry glare.

“Your cover is
perfectly intact, Davy. You’d be no good to me if it weren’t.”

He hissed out a
breath and pushed away from her, stepping back into a wide-legged stance with
his arms crossed over his chest. “Ok, you’ve got my attention.”

Dani allowed a
hint of triumph to creep into her smile. “I knew you’d come around,” she said,
and then she explained exactly what she needed him for.

* * *

The first full
day in his lab, James devoted his time to deciphering the half dozen cylinder seals
unearthed in the anomalous burial at Sandby borg. Each one was between one and
one and a half inches in height, though they were made of different materials.
They were meant to be rolled over clay as a signatory, so that’s exactly what
he did.