or delay. He hesitated—actually hesitated—outside the little coffee shop. Reconciling assignments where a gods-be-damned woman was the target had always been the hardest for him. But Kennedy Jefferson proved a whole different level of difficult. She’d haunted him for 300 years. Memories so clear they could have been recent versus centuries old swamped him. The goddess Danu’s warning, issued in a dim Scottish cave three centuries ago, rolled about his mind. She had come to him and spoken of finding some immeasurable truth that would save not only mankind but the Druidic race, as well. To fail would result in the release of the imprisoned gods.
He’d pleaded with her, begged for more to go on than that. She’d considered him carefully before issuing him a name. “Begin seeking her in what will be a new world to you, Dylan, for she is the only one who holds the truth. You must find Kennedy Jefferson before all is lost. She has within her the single truth you must reveal and accept.” And then Danu had disappeared.
The light changed, the crowd jostling him hard enough to knock some sense into him. He had no business bandying about with memories no more tangible than fairy tales. Instead, he searched the glass-fronted shop, located his target and shifted directions, slipping down first one side of the building, then around the back and up the other. There were exits fore and aft, as well as a handful of tiny windows. He couldn’t watch them all. Shouldn’t have to, though. She had no idea who he was or why he was here, so she wouldn’t likely run. Not yet, anyway. Not unless Cailleach took the wheel, because that bitch had definitely recognized him.
Another brush of power skated over his skin with blades as sharp as knives. It had to be coming from the woman. No one else could harness that kind of power and keep it secreted, not from the men who’d done the background check on this mission. Hell, Dylan knew things about Kennedy Jefferson she’d likely hate—that her mother committed suicide when Kennedy was thirteen. That her father remarried when Kennedy was twenty-two and died of a massive heart attack last year, just days after her twenty-ninth birthday. That she’d been a combat medic in the army and went to college on the GI bill.
The only explanation for the power surge painted her as the source. Still, he needed confirmation. If someone with such undiluted strength had glommed on to her, the playing field had just changed.
Grabbing a newspaper, he pulled up a seat to one side of the shop’s entrance. He could see her standing in line. Perfect.
The electric doors to the café swished open. Scents of coffee, baked goods and humanity were strong enough to mask all but the closest magicks, elemental or otherwise. Damn it. He needed to get a bead on the type of magick being wielded. Too many smells to contend with here. He’d have to step inside.
In the time it took him to dump his paper and move to the door, the woman had taken up with her companion on a sofa near the fire. Dark head bent forward, her lips moved rapidly. Every now and again she’d glance up, considering the man’s response before carrying on. She looked over her shoulder once, gaze roaming the room. Those dark blue eyes stole his breath.
Kemp touched her leg and regained her attention before her gaze found Dylan. Too bluidy bad. He’d quite like to go ahead and call her out, to draw her out and end this here and now.
Dylan’s power leaked inexplicably, coiling loosely around him. Before he could tamp it down, her companion’s chin whipped up and turned toward him. Dark gray eyes were like storm-lashed seas, and Dylan knew for certain where the power he’d felt had come from. He could smell it now, the loam of damp earth, and knew only one brand of magick with such a distinctive scent. Warlock.
“Oh, son, ye’ve toyed with the wrong man,” Dylan whispered, nodding his head in acknowledgment.
Kennedy’s companion nodded back, never faltering. She must have misunderstood his movement as a suggestion to look to the doorway, because she stopped speaking midsentence and turned. Her mouth fell open.
He arched a brow at her and grinned, mouthing the words, “Your office. Now.”
Her mouthed response had him smiling even wider.
The doors slid open and he stepped outside to wait. Over the years, he’d learned to pay attention to his instinct, and right now? That instinct was screaming she was about to take flight. The thrill of the chase had his blood pumping through his veins and, for the second time since he’d landed in Atlanta, he found himself feeling alive. It didn’t slip his notice that both times he’d felt so invigorated, it involved the woman he’d just ordered to heel.
No, it didn’t slip his notice at all.
* * *
“Hell,” Ethan snarled, eyes focused somewhere behind her.
“What?” Kennedy turned in the direction of his stare. Her skin heated at the same time she broke out in goose bumps.
Dylan O’Shea smiled the darkest, most seductive smile she’d ever seen and mouthed three words. “Your office. Now.”
“Oh, shit,” she whispered.
“Kennedy? Look at me.” Ethan reached out and grabbed her arm after Dylan left the building. When he tugged, she turned to face him. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
She reached for her coffee cup, her hand shaking so badly she abandoned the effort. “I can’t just leave, Ethan. The cop obviously knows we skipped out. I can only avoid his questions so long before he hauls me in for a more formal sit-down.”
“I’m not screwing around.” His voice struck her like a lash and made her flinch. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard enough she gasped. “And he’s not a cop. Not even close.”
“What’s with you? You’re hurting me.” She yanked on his grip, but he didn’t let go. “And what do you mean he’s not a cop?”
“Sorry. Look, I recognize him. I should have realized it before now. I...” He let her go and ran both hands through his hair. “He’s dangerous, Kennedy. More dangerous than you can possibly imagine.”
A quick glance around proved the man had disappeared. The way she struggled to sit still, the feeling of eyes boring into her back, said he was watching them. “What’s going on?”
“Have to get to my car.” Ethan stood and scanned the coffee shop. “It’s the only chance.” He stood and yanked her to her feet.
“Hey!”
“Quiet,” he whispered, gaze darting around.
Tension wound its way up her spine in lazy spirals, tightening and strangling as it went. “You’re scaring me.”
“Yeah? Good. Better scared and alive than naive and dead.”
Dead. “You’ve gone over the edge. The guy said he’s a cop.” Dread followed tension’s weaving pattern up her back. “What if I hurt someone, Ethan? What if I did something horrible and that’s why he’s here?”
“He never once said he was a cop, Kennedy. We assumed. But he’s not. He’s a...the...not a cop. Forget it. I’ve got to get you out of here.” Arm around her shoulders, he steered her to the back of the coffee shop.
“Get me out of here?” she parroted.
Ignoring her, he stopped outside the restroom and glanced around. “Go inside. Lock the door, count to thirty and then shimmy out the window. Head to your car. I want you to drive a hundred miles east, then a hundred miles south. Make credit card purchases. Call in a hotel reservation somewhere in North Carolina, somewhere you could get to today. Buy a plane ticket somewhere across country, but don’t go to the airport. He’ll be watching. Probably your house, too.” He pulled his hair. “Then I want you to come back here and meet me at my house at nine tonight. It’ll give me time to figure out how to get you out of this.”
“This? This what? You’re acting crazier than me. Why in the world do I have to leave through the bathroom window?” She looked back. “He’s not even here.”
“Yeah,