Undetected (Treasure Hunter Security Book 8) Page 6

  She looked at her reflection in the foggy mirror. Her hair was wet, her face was makeup-free and pale. She had god-awful shadows under her eyes.

  Dammit, Burke was right. It might only be the afternoon, but she needed some rest. She felt drained and still a little shaky from the chlorine attack. Not to mention the panic at seeing Alastair trapped in that box. She swallowed, feeling the raw sensation in her throat.

  She pressed her hands to the sink and pulled in a breath. Memories crowded into her head. The horrible coughing, the choking, combined with knowing Silk Road had Alastair, and that damn ticking timer.

  She looked back into the mirror. Nothing like black-market thieves repeatedly trying to kill you to put your life in perspective.

  She was no longer the awkward, nerdy teen with the big, tough, overachieving brothers, or the completely-in-love, larger-than-life parents.

  Darcy knew her own worth. She was damn good at her job, had skills that very few people possessed, and even without her makeup and her hair blow dried, she looked pretty good. And she wanted love and a family of her own.

  She stepped into Alastair’s bedroom. It was neat—no surprise there—and decorated in masculine colors with warm wood accents. Unrepentant about snooping, she opened a few drawers and looked in the closet.

  One framed picture sat on the dresser. It showed a smiling woman in a simple dress and cheap shoes, hugging a serious-looking, dark-haired boy. The boy looked like he was about ten.

  It was then she noted the intense green eyes.

  God. The boy was a young Alastair. She peered closer. His face had the same impassive stare she looked at every day. A part of her had always wondered if he’d sprung into existence as a fully-formed adult with a gun on his hip.

  This woman had to be his mother. Darcy ran a finger over the frame and wondered where the woman lived, and if she was close to her son.

  Turning away, Darcy decided to find something to wear. Since she had no clean clothes, she had to borrow something. In the closet, she pulled a crisp, white business shirt off a hanger and slipped it on. It almost reached her knees.

  She left her hair wet. There wasn’t much she could do with it, anyway. And while she might sell her soul for her MAC collection, makeup-free was going to have to do until she got her things.

  When she walked into the living area, a wonderful smell hit her. She halted. Burke was cooking. He’d taken his jacket off and had his shirt sleeves rolled up.

  Darcy let out a shuddering breath. If men only knew how insanely attractive it was to a woman to watch a man cooking something up in the kitchen… And Alastair looked beyond fine, stirring a pot of something mouthwatering. Whatever. He’s still arrogant, bossy, and annoying, remember?

  He looked up and stared at her.

  “Ah, I borrowed a shirt.” She fought not to tug on the hem.

  His eyes darkened. “So I see.” He nodded at the stools on her side of the granite island. “Take a seat.”

  She pulled herself up, studying his face. He looked none the worse for wear for his ordeal.

  “I hope you like fettuccine carbonara,” he said. “I’m making a late lunch, or an early dinner.”

  She looked at him aghast. “You cook? Like, with ingredients?”

  He turned to face her, and he looked outrageously scrumptious holding a wooden spoon.

  “My mom taught me.”

  Darcy felt something change in the air between them. “I saw the picture in your room. That’s her, right?”

  He tensed.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t snooping.” Big fat liar, Darcy Ward.

  “Yeah. That’s her.”

  “You’re close?”

  “We were.”

  His tone made goose bumps break out on Darcy’s skin. Burke reached over, pulling open the stainless-steel refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of sparkling water. Next, he grabbed some tall glasses.

  “Hope water’s okay. I did some research, and you need to avoid alcohol for a little while.”

  Darcy took the glass. She should never have brought up the photo.

  He leaned against the counter. “My mother was murdered when I was ten.”

  Oh. God. “I’m so sorry, Alastair.” Without thinking, Darcy reached out, pressing her hand over his.

  He nodded, then pulled away and turned back to the stove. “It was a long time ago.”

  He flicked off the burner, set out plates, and started serving up the food. He slid a plate of the creamy pasta in front of her, then leaned against the counter as he ate his.

  Darcy tasted the pasta and swallowed a moan. “Oh, God, this is so good.”

  She got a flicker of a smile.

  Then her belly cramped, and she set her fork down. She was hungry, but the stress of the day was still riding her. “Our plan to take down Silk Road is going to work.”

  “That a question or a statement?”

  “A statement.” She straightened. “Today was the last straw. We’re going to get the Collector, and by this time next week, there will be no more Silk Road.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  Such confidence. Just that single word said with so much conviction. If she’d learned anything about Alastair Burke, it was that he was a man of his word.

  “It’s time,” he said. “Silk Road has been destroying lives for decades. With the Collector assuming sole control, things will only get worse.”

  Darcy swallowed down another bite of pasta. “I agree, one hundred percent. They’ve been targeting my family and friends for a while. And now me and you.”

  She looked up and saw a muscle tick in his jaw.

  She reached out and grabbed his hand again. “We’ll stop them.”

  His thumb stroked her skin. “We will.”

  They finished eating, and Darcy insisted on helping him clean up. When she flopped onto the gray suede couch, she suppressed a grateful sigh. When she pulled out her tablet, it was whisked out of her hands.

  “Hey—”

  “No work. Rest.”

  She rolled her eyes and watched him tuck the device away. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. There was no way she was admitting how tired she felt.

  Alastair clicked on the television, and she leaned into the couch.

  “I have some work to do,” he said. “I’ll be in my office, if you need me.”

  She watched him disappear through a set of double doors and fought a pout. Of course, he was allowed to work. She focused on the TV and a few minutes later she fell asleep.

  Darcy blinked awake, a scream caught in her throat. She’d been having a nightmare about the attack. She’d been trapped in a plastic box filling with gas, Alastair trapped on the other side of the plastic.

  She looked around and saw unfamiliar brick walls. She exhaled sharply and her brain finally caught up. Alastair’s place.

  She had no idea what time it was. It was dark outside the windows, the lights were on low, and the television was off. She pushed her hair off her face and spotted her suitcase sitting by the front door. She barely suppressed her cry of glee.

  She got up and went looking for Alastair.

  His office was dark and he wasn’t at his desk.

  She almost moved away, when she spotted a shadow sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room.

  She stepped into the office. In the ambient glow from the living room, she saw he was sitting in the shadows, cradling a glass of whisky. His head was down.

  “Alastair?”

  He didn’t move, but the brooding vibe hit her hard.

  “You almost died today.”

  Darcy felt rooted to the spot, a knot in her chest. His deep, rasping tone made her throat tight. “You did too. And I’m fine. You came for me.”

  He looked up. “A few more minutes—”

  She moved to him now. Right in this moment, there was no way she could resist the pull between them. She rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’m okay, Alastair. We’re both okay.”
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br />   He pulled in a deep breath and tipped his head back. Darcy didn’t let herself think. She’d almost died and so had he. She reached down and cupped one stubbled cheek. She stepped between his legs, then she leaned down and kissed him.

  He tasted so good, with an edge of whisky. He smelled as good as always—that crisp cologne that now always made her think of Alastair Burke. He didn’t touch her, but he took over the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers.

  She heard his glass hit the rug with a muffled thump. His hand came out and gripped her waist, tugging her roughly onto his lap. She made a hungry sound, sliding her hands into his hair.

  “Darcy…damn…” One hand cupped her ass and kneaded. He kissed her again.

  A phone started ringing.

  No. She tightened her hands in his hair.

  Alastair broke the kiss and cursed. “That’s Thom’s tone.”

  Struggling to find some control, Darcy pulled in a few breaths and slid off his lap. She stood on shaky legs.

  “Thom?” A pause. “You ran the prints on the chlorine device and the box.” Alastair’s jaw tightened. “Nothing came up. Not a surprise.” Another pause. “Okay, yeah, keep me informed.”

  Alastair slid the phone away, his gaze meeting hers.

  “No evidence off the chlorine device or the plastic box,” she said.

  Alastair shook his head. “You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’m not sure I can sleep…I keep remembering the attack.” Her chest tightened. God, she did not need to have a panic attack.

  A hand gripped hers, squeezed. Instantly, her chest loosened a fraction.

  “You take the bed,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “Alastair—”

  “I’ll be right here, Darcy.” His green eyes glowed with his promise. “I’ll make sure no one gets in here and no one disrupts your sleep.”

  The last of the tension in her eased. If there was one thing she was starting to learn, it was that she could trust this man.

  Chapter Seven

  Alastair took his time checking the security screens in the Dashwood security room.

  “The cameras are working well, Agent Burke,” one of the security team said. “All the areas of the main lobby are covered within an inch of their lives.” The man smiled. “Ms. Ward has done a brilliant job. Way better than the system we had before.”

  Alastair nodded. That was why he’d hired her. “Thanks, Chris.”

  He strode out of the office and headed for the lobby. Stepping out into the center of the space, he visually checked the camera locations, the main display, and ran through where he’d have agents stationed on the night. The opening gala was only one day away.

  “Hey.” Thom fell into step with him. “Feeling all right?”

  “If anyone asks me that question again…”

  “Okay, okay. Darcy got the trackers from her contact. She’s ready to put them on the diamonds and test them.”

  Alastair nodded.

  Darcy. He’d checked on her several times during the night, watching as she’d slept in his bed. He couldn’t fully describe how much he’d liked seeing her dark hair spread out on his pillow.

  Fuck. Even now, his body responded. Seeing her in his shirt had been torture. The taste of her was still in his mouth. The woman sure could kiss.

  “Alastair? Alastair?”

  He blinked and saw Thom looking at him. “Yeah?”

  “I was telling you that I got your tuxedo.”

  “Fine.” He scowled. He didn’t care about his tux—he cared about taking Silk Road down, keeping Darcy safe, and working out how to keep his hands off her.

  Feminine laughter echoed through the space and made every cell in his body come to life. His gaze zeroed in on Darcy. She was joking around with some young geek from the Dashwood security team. She looked fully recovered from her exposure to the chlorine gas.

  “Thanks, Thom,” Thom muttered sarcastically. “I appreciate your help.”

  Alastair looked back at his partner. “Shopping doesn’t get you commendations, Singh.”

  The younger man held up a hand. “My boyfriend loves my shopping skills, mainly because I do his shopping for him. I outdid myself with your tuxedo, even if I do say so myself. I’ll send you the invoice.” The man rubbed his hands together with glee.

  “Your love of fashion is…disconcerting,” Alastair said.

  “And your workaholic tendencies are disconcerting.” Thom turned his head, looking at Darcy. “Although, I’m all for you finding some other…personal hobbies.” Thom smiled. “How was it having a roommate last night?”

  With another scowl for his annoying partner, Alastair strode across the lobby toward Darcy.

  “Hi,” he said.

  She straightened. “Hi, yourself.”

  “Thom said the trackers arrived.”

  She smiled, excitement radiating off her. She snatched up a small plastic case. “Animal came through.”

  She spun, her hip bumping Alastair’s. Her touch felt like he’d been hit by lightning. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her.

  He wanted to touch her, more than anything, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. Not on the eve of implementing their plan. And as he’d already established, Darcy Ward was one big distraction.

  She grabbed her tablet. “We putting these babies on the diamonds now?”

  He nodded.

  Dec appeared. “Darcy. Burke.”

  “Hi, big bro.” Darcy gave her brother a quick hug. “You’ve been going through the plan for the THS team for tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “Cal and I have it worked out.” His gaze bored into Darcy. “I told him, and Mom and Dad what happened yesterday. They’re worried.”

  “You told on me?” Darcy said.

  “We all want you safe,” Dec said. “I want you staying with me.”

  “I’m fine,” she told him. “This is almost over, Dec.”

  “I want to keep an eye on you.”

  Burke moved closer, standing right behind Darcy. “I’m doing that.”

  That just made Dec’s scowl deepen.

  “When’s the rest of the team getting here?” Darcy asked.

  “I know you’re changing the subject,” Dec said. “This afternoon.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “All of them.”

  Alastair raised his brows. “All of the Treasure Hunter Security team?”

  “They all wanted in. They heard about the attacks on Darcy, and they’ve all had run-ins with Silk Road.” Dec grimaced. “The wives and significant others are coming, too.” He let out a sigh. “And Mom and Dad.”

  Darcy groaned. “We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile at the gala.”

  “They can blend.”

  Darcy snorted. “Coop can, because he’s a former spy. And Morgan can, because she’s just badass. Hale and Cal, maybe. But Logan?”

  Dec winced. “Sydney will be with him. She can tame him for a night.”

  “You’re sure?” Burke asked.

  “I’m sure.” The man’s face was serious. “We all want to be here for this.”

  And all the THS members were good. Burke wasn’t going to turn down any help. He nodded. “We’re heading down to the vault to place the trackers on the diamonds.”

  Dec looked back at his sister. “Please come and stay in my suite.”

  “And be the third wheel to you and Layne? I don’t need to hear you doing the nasty with your wife. No, thanks.” Darcy reached out and touched her brother’s arm. “I’m safe.”

  “I hate the idea of you alone in a hotel room.”

  “Um…” She glanced at Alastair.

  “She’s staying with me,” he said.

  Dec went still. His gaze locked with Alastair’s. “Think you and I need to have a chat.”

  “We can do that.”

  “What? No.” Darcy stomped a foot. “I’m an adult woman, so you macho idiots are not having
a chat.” She swiveled. “I’m heading to the vault to work on the diamonds.”

  She stormed off, and Alastair caught up with her at the stairs. He decided it was best not to talk on the way down to the vault and simply let her walk off her pique.

  He nodded to the guards as they entered the vault. At the table, he opened the diamond case.

  Darcy smiled. “Looking at these never gets old.”

  The diamonds lay nestled safely in the case, gleaming under the lights.

  “You like diamonds, Darcy?” He could picture her with a strand of them around her neck. And nothing else.

  She smiled. “Every woman likes diamonds, Agent Burke. And if she tells you differently, she’s lying.” She studied the diamonds. “I’ve been doing more research on the gems, especially the Black Orlov.”

  “Trying to prove the curse?”

  She turned to him. “I confirmed the death of the diamond dealer. A Mr. J.W. Paris. Shortly after he sold the Black Orlov, he jumped off a Manhattan skyscraper.”

  “My file says he had business problems.”

  Darcy leaned against the table. “Fifteen years after Mr. Paris died, the diamond belonged to a Russian princess, Princess Leonila Viktorovna-Bariatinsky. She also jumped to her death. Soon after, another Russian princess, Princess Nadia Vygin-Orlov, the wife of a Russian jeweler became the proud owner of the diamond.”

  “And its next ‘victim.’”

  Darcy nodded. “She jumped off a building in Rome.”

  “And since then, the diamond was re-cut in order to break the curse.” He looked at the dark gem.

  “What if it is some sort of ancient technology?” Darcy said. “Maybe a weapon.”

  He raised a brow.

  “I tried to trace the earliest legends. It appears to have come from a shrine in Pondicherry, India. The uncut diamond was set in a statue—the Eye of Brahma, the Hindu creator god.”

  “Doesn’t make it a weapon.”

  Her face lit up. “I discovered a few interesting things about Brahma. So first, he was the creator of all the gods, animals, men and women. But some legends say that he was worried about over population by immortals. He wanted balance, so he helped create Death, who in some legends was, of course, a woman.”