Mission: Irresistible Page 10

  “Sort of like Joseph and his coat of many colors.”

  “Similar story, yes.”

  “From there Solen ended up in Ramses’s household, where he fell in love with Kiya.”

  “And that was his downfall,” Harrison said. “There was only one thing that would cause Solen to break the Minoan Order’s code and commit an evil act.”

  “His love for Kiya,” Cassie whispered and got goose bumps on top of her hot spot.

  “Solen attacked Nebamun when he discovered the vizier had poisoned Kiya. They battled and Nebamun stabbed him with a dagger dipped in asp venom. With his dying breath, Solen cursed the vizier’s descendants into eternity, just as Nebamun tore the magic amulet from his hands.”

  “Thereby preventing the curse from taking place.” She sighed deeply and rubbed her palms together. “I love this star-crossed lovers stuff. It’s so tragically romantic.”

  “You only like the legend because their romance ended passionately and luridly and before Kiya ever started to resent Solen for leaving his socks on the floor,” Harrison teased.

  “Oh, you.” Cassie reached across the car to playfully swat him, but the minute her hand made contact with his solid shoulder she realized that touching him had been a major mistake.

  He’d stopped at a traffic signal and as her fingers grazed his shirt, he turned to look at her. The reflection of the red traffic light illuminated him in a vermilion hue. He looked alien and unlikely and incredibly potent.

  They stared at each other. All levity vanished in the heat of tension stretching between them.

  His dark eyes glistened enigmatically behind his scholarly spectacles. For the first time, she noticed a small scar just below and to the left of his right cheekbone. The unexpected defect was intriguing and mysterious and darkly masculine.

  Who was he?

  She didn’t know him. Not really. She was vulnerable. At his mercy.

  She suppressed a shiver.

  The nerd image was all a ruse, Cassie realized. A defense mechanism he hid behind. He cloaked his real self with thick glasses and bad clothing and disheveled hair. The real Harrison disappeared inside scientific method and mental analysis and complicated ideas. But there was so much more to him than his intellect.

  Here, in the close confines of the car, she could feel the emotional surging of this heavier, earthier, more complex personality. She wondered if he even understood the dynamics of his secretive behavior.

  She felt herself sucked in by the enticing vortex of unknown territory. They stared into each other, and her world spun.

  The car behind them honked and they both jumped, brought back to their physical surroundings. The light had changed. Harrison put his foot on the accelerator, and the Volvo chugged through the intersection.

  That furtive moment, the deeper connection, vanished like a whiff of smoke and everything was back like it had been. Neither one of them spoke of what passed between them, but Cassie could not tolerate the awkward silence.

  “So this Minoan Order.” She nervously licked her lips and then swallowed hard. “Whatever happened to them?”

  “Not to get all Star Wars on you or anything, but the dark side won. When the elder members of the Minoan Order found out what the young warriors had done to Solen, they stripped them of their powers and banished them from their homeland. But in exile, the warriors banded together. They sought revenge against the original sect for kicking them out. They murdered every member of the old order in their beds to steal their magic. But the new Minoan Order was now tainted with evil. They still had the ability to transmute base metal into gold and to control the weather, but every time they used these skills they grew weaker and weaker.”

  “Chilling story.”

  “Many scholars of ancient history feel that Solen held the key to the group’s alchemical talents. Some think the power was in his amulet.”

  “Do any practitioners of the Minoan Order exist today?” Cassie asked.

  “The general consensus is they were wiped out by the Greeks,” Harrison said.

  “But were they?”

  “Rumors of their existence persist. One theory postulates that Hitler was a member of the New Minoan Order. But no one has ever proved that. If they are still around, they’ve kept their presence very clandestine.” He shook his head. “But if Adam has translated their hieroglyphics, the papyrus scroll in the backseat could hold the answer to all the speculation.”

  “It’s a seductive thought.”

  “Very seductive for an archaeologist.” Harrison exited the freeway. The high-glare-headlight car that had been on their bumper since they’d left Jack in the Box took the same exit.

  “So do you personally believe there could still be a Minoan Order?”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  “You don’t believe in true love, but you believe there could be mumbo-jumbo weirdos running around trying to turn base metal into gold and brew up tornadoes?”

  “I’m a cynic.” He grinned and shrugged. “But I’m not totally closed-minded.”

  “Good to know you believe in something.”

  The light changed and he turned the corner. Maybe now they could escape the obnoxious driver who seemed determined to give her a migraine with those unforgiving headlights.

  No such luck. The car also turned right at the light.

  They were back in Fort Worth and drawing nearer to the Kimbell.

  “Just drop me off at my car,” she said.

  “No way. I’m not about to let you go driving around on empty at one o’clock in the morning. I’ll take you to your apartment and come back to pick you up tomorrow.”

  She started to argue with him but stopped herself. What the hell? If he wanted to cart her around Fort Worth, no skin off her nose. He made a left turn and darn if that blinded-by-the-light car didn’t stay right on their tail.

  “Harry.” Squinting, Cassie glanced in the side-view mirror.

  “Yes?”

  “I hate to alarm you, but I think we’re being followed.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Harrison had come to the same conclusion about the Ford Focus in his rearview mirror long before Cassie expressed her suspicions. But before he made a move, he had to be certain.

  “My head is burning again,” Cassie said. “Hate to sound all woo-woo, but this isn’t a good sign.”

  On that point they agreed. Harrison circled the block.

  The Focus followed.

  This was unbelievable. The driver couldn’t be more obvious if he had a neon flasher light proclaiming, “I’m following you,” perched atop his hood.

  He slowed the Volvo.

  The Focus decelerated.

  Harrison navigated down a narrow side street.

  Here came the compact Ford, practically kissing his bumper.

  No doubt about it. Not only were they being followed, but the driver didn’t care if they knew it.

  Harrison crept along, analyzing the situation. Obviously, the person behind the wheel of the Focus wanted him to pull over.

  Why?

  He edged over to the curb. The Focus followed suit.

  “What’s happening? Why are you stopping?”

  “I’m finding out who’s following us and why.”

  His pulse kaboomed in his ears. After their conversation about the Minoan Order, he was feeling a little jumpy. Get over it, Standish.

  They weren’t being followed by members of some ancient cult desperate to get their hands on the ancient scroll. No way. It was too incredible. No matter how hot Cassie’s brain got.

  So who was following them?

  His mind jumped to the thought of carjackers and highway robbers. Or maybe it had something to do with Adam’s disappearance. Maybe he had taken money from mobster loan sharks to finance his dig and he hadn’t paid them back and they’d been watching the crate, waiting for someone to pick it up.

  Outlandish, yes. Impossible? Considering his brother, no. But far more believable than a killer
secret brotherhood sect.

  Stop with the speculation. Make a move, doober. You’re not going to discover anything while cowering in the car.

  Right.

  “Here.” He twisted a key off his key ring and handed it her. “Get the papyrus scroll from the backseat and lock it in the glove compartment.”

  Cassie did as he asked, retrieving the sheepskin-wrapped bundle, stowing and locking it in the glove compartment. She gave the key back to him.

  He reached down at the side of the driver’s seat and thumbed open the trunk release latch.

  “Are you nuts?” Her eyes widened and her voice shot up an octave. “What if they have a gun?”

  “I imagine that is a possibility.”

  He looked in the rearview mirror. The Ford Focus had not switched off its headlamps. The beams bounced off the mirror, momentarily blinding him.

  Harrison could not tell how many people were in the car. It could be one person. It could be four or even more. He had no idea what they were up against.

  “This isn’t good.” Cassie ferociously rubbed the back of her head. “My head is blazing. There’s going to be serious trouble. Just drive away, Harry.”

  “And let them follow us home?” he said. “No thank you.”

  “I don’t scare easily, Harry.” She grasped his arm. “But I’m scared now. This doesn’t feel right. Don’t do it.”

  “Cassie.” He met her gaze.

  “Uh-huh.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  He was startled to see exactly how scared she was. Her hands were trembling and her mouth was pressed into a thin, anxious line. His gut twisted. He would protect her, no matter what.

  “When I get out of the car, I want you to slide behind the wheel, hit the automatic door locks, and drive immediately to the nearest police station. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t like this. Don’t go.”

  “I refuse to be intimidated by common thugs.”

  “What if it’s not common thugs? What if they’re uncommon thugs? Like members of the Wannamakemecomealots.”

  He almost laughed at the way she mispronounced the name, but he didn’t want to bruise her feelings. “There’s no such thing. That cult no longer exists.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Right now, I’m not sure of anything.”

  “Whoever it is could hurt you,” she said breathlessly. “My head’s never burned this bad. Not even when I was in the rehab hospital.”

  “Yeah, well.” He was trying hard to ignore the twinge of sympathy that sparked whenever he imagined sweet little nine-year-old Cassie in a rehab hospital. “That’s why I popped the trunk. I’ll use the tire iron as a weapon.”

  “What if they overpower you?” She laid a hand on his shoulder.

  Was that concern in her eyes? Was she worried about his safety? Her touch struck a chord inside him, and then he felt stupid letting himself get so embroiled.

  Stay calm, stay cool, stay detached from your feelings.

  “That’s why you’re going to drive to the nearest police station as soon as I get the tire iron out of the trunk.”

  “I won’t go off and leave you to fight them alone.”

  “You can and you will.”

  She lifted her hand from his shoulder to caress his cheekbone. Her fingers found the small scar he’d acquired playing Zorro with Adam when they were kids. Harrison’s heart knotted. If she only knew how hard his knees were quaking, that venerating expression in her eyes would quickly disappear. He found it so much easier facing the unknown physical menace outside the car than intimate tenderness inside the Volvo.

  Unable to deal with her admiration for his imaginary courage, he ducked his head and fumbled for the door handle. Round the back of the Volvo, shove up the trunk lid, grab the tire iron, and start swinging.

  “Harry?”

  “Uh-huh?” He hesitated.

  “Take this with you.”

  “Wha—”

  But that was as far as he got because Cassie unsnapped her seat belt, leaned across the console, and planted a kiss on his scarred cheek.

  He was so startled that he jerked his head toward her, and her mouth slipped from his cheek to his lips.

  The next thing he knew he was kissing her.

  Full on.

  It was hot and wet and moving.

  For one endless second Harrison forgot about the Ford Focus parked behind him. He forgot about the Minoan hieroglyphics. He forgot about Solen and Kiya. He forgot about the amulet. He even forgot about Adam.

  Whereas before there was danger, now there was nothing but pleasure. His full attention was focused on one thing and one thing alone.

  Cassie Cooper’s mouth.

  Lush and full and ripe and sweet. She tasted of summer. Throbbing and heated and humid. Filled with life and intensity and drama.

  He remembered swimming pools and lounging on the beach, smelled chlorine and suntan lotion. He thought of the Fourth of July, heard bottle rockets scream and Black Cats explode. He saw fireflies flickering through pecan trees, and he spied charcoal embers glowing white-hot in the bottom of a barbecue grill.

  It all added up to a glorious wow.

  His mouth sizzled as Cassie’s tongue glided over his lips. Wow, wow, wow, wow.

  Harrison floated. Caught, trapped, besieged. He was suspended in another time zone, another dimension, an alternate reality. Everything ceased to exist except the taste and shape of Cassie’s mouth.

  An eternity drifted past his consciousness, but rationally he knew it had been no more than a couple of seconds. He coped with the emotional impact the only way he knew how—by narrowing his focus and attempting to retreat into the sanctuary of his mind.

  But it didn’t work. He could not isolate his mind from his body. His penis hardened and his mouth moistened and his toes curled.

  Pull away, pull away.

  But he could not.

  He reacted violently against his natural instincts. Something about her tugged at a long-denied, subterranean part of his psyche. Harrison flung himself into the kiss, restless, agitated, forgetful, crazed.

  More, more, more.

  His mind sped up. His anxieties flamed. Her lips were the single distraction from his escalating uneasiness. Where had his mind gone? Where was the essence of him? Where was Harrison Jerome Standish in all this?

  Resist her! Resist her! Remember your mission.

  Ah, but she was irresistible.

  Her lips were wicked, her tongue even more so. Nibbling, licking, tasting, teasing.

  Panic seized him, but Harrison was unable to fight off the very cause of his alarm.

  His unquenchable desire for Cassie.

  And then a fist knocking hard against his window slammed him straight back down to reality.

  A rush of protectiveness, so strong he could taste the briny poignancy, suffused him. He had to shield Cassie. He’d gotten her into this mess; it was his responsibility to extract her.

  It was so deeply ingrained in him to mentally disconnect from his body’s physical response that he couldn’t help himself. He was barely aware that his limbs had gone rigid and his hands were curled into fists.

  He jerked his head toward the driver’s-side window, fully expecting to see either a knife-wielding carjacker or a brass-knuckle-wearing loan shark, or, bizarrely enough, members of the Minoan Order, their faces hidden behind Minotaur masks.

  When instead he saw the smiling caramel-colored face of the Star-Telegram reporter who’d attended the Kimbell party, Harrison exhaled in surprise and rolled down the window.

  “Hiya,” the reporter said, waggling her fingers at him in a friendly wave.

  “Hi.” He smiled weakly.

  “Remember me? I’m Lashaundra Johnson.”

  “Yes?”

  “I know who stole the amulet.”

  “Pardon?” Harrison had detached his mind so completely from his body that he was having trouble processing what the woman was saying. She repeated hers
elf.

  “You know who stole the amulet?”

  “Uh-huh.” She bobbed her head. “I already figured it out.”

  “Who?”

  “Cleopatra. The thin one. Not her.” Lashaundra nodded at Cassie.”

  “What?” He had no idea why this woman was hanging on to the side of his car and babbling nonsense.

  Cassie leaned over to whisper in his ear. “She’s talking about the murder mystery theater.”

  Oh. He’d forgotten all about that.

  “Yep,” Lashaundra went on. “She doesn’t want Solen and Kiya reunited ’cause she wants Solen’s handsome bod for herself. I’m thinking old Cleo might even have stabbed the mummy as well, but I haven’t quite figured out why or how. I don’t trust her. She’s too damned skinny. My mama always told me never trust a bony woman. They’re just too hungry.”

  “Amen, sister,” Cassie mumbled.

  Harrison’s pulse, which had jackhammered into the red zone when Lashaundra rapped on the window, dipped back to normal.

  “So am I right?” Lashaundra asked. “It’s the skinny bitch, isn’t it? She’s the thief.”

  “Sorry,” Harrison said. “You’ll have to wait until Saturday to find out.”

  “You won’t even give me a hint?” Lashaundra gazed beseechingly at Cassie. “I’ve been following you guys around all night looking for a clue.”

  Cassie shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair to the others.”

  “Dammit,” Lashaundra said. “Well, I figured it was worth a shot.”

  “I’ll walk you back to your car, Ms. Johnson,” Harrison offered, plus he had to shut the trunk. “You shouldn’t be out alone at this time of the night.”

  “Okay,” Lashaundra agreed. “I’ll let you.”

  Harrison opened the door to get out and the dome light came on. That’s when he got a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. His right cheek was branded with the imprint of Cassie’s lipstick.