to the Hemmers’. Locating whatever they could from the ancient book was on HCU’s master agenda. Sam stared at Kit as she sat down in a chair facing the desk.
Nick probably knew more about the secret brotherhood than any other person living in modern times. Last year, Brie had been abducted by a medieval Highlander who had been turned to evil. Brie had also worked at CDA and Nick was notoriously obsessed with not “losing” agents in time. He’d chosen Sam to go back to help him find Brie. When she and Nick had brought her cousin back to New York, Brie had been thoroughly debriefed. The warriors called themselves Masters; at HCU, they’d been dubbed the Masters of Time.
Of course, Brie had gone back to Aidan of Awe anyway, having fallen in love with him even before helping him return to the Brotherhood. But HCU had gained lots of new information to play with—including the possibility that the missing Duisean might be in New York City, and in the hands of a great demon.
Sam’s excitement increased. She believed in the Duisean. The Rose women had their own book, the Book of Roses, which contained all the magic and wisdom entrusted to them by higher powers, and passed down through the generations. The Book was now in Tabby’s keeping—it was always in the keeping of a Rose witch. One of the Highlanders had come for it, to bring it back to her. Why wouldn’t the Masters of Time have a book of power? They were a warrior society sworn to protect Innocence, and they needed warrior powers to do so. It just made sense.
“Is Hemmer evil?” Sam asked flatly. Finding the Duisean—and making sure it did not fall into the wrong hands—was a priority.
“I wondered that myself. I already checked, and there is a file on him. It’s flagged for possible demonic connections.”
“That could make him anything—the real deal, a mixed breed or possessed.” Sam wet her lips. “But it doesn’t matter. He can’t have any part of the Duisean. Shit.” It began to dawn on her how dangerous a demon or a half demon could become, if armed with power meant for the good guys.
“It might not be authentic, Sam,” Kit pointed out.
“Yeah. We need to see it up close and personal.” She was wry. “Where are the near-immortals when you need one?”
Kit ignored that. “Getting into that vault is almost impossible and it won’t happen tonight,” she said. “No one goes into that vault without Hemmer, and he’s very picky about who he invites for a viewing.”
Sam deliberately folded her arms and crossed her long, sculpted legs. Her idea of a great day was competing in a triathlon. She also ran marathons, kick-boxed, biked and skied. She was wearing her usual denim miniskirt, this one gray and frayed, with a studded belt and midcalf, high-heeled tan boots, despite the heat. She wagged her booted foot at Kit.
“I agree,” Kit said, grinning. “You’re the most likely candidate to persuade him to take you into the vault.”
Based on his memo, Nick obviously thought so, too. In spite of his new wife, Hemmer was notorious for his infidelities. Tonight, he’d be toast.
“No one is persuading Hemmer of anything tonight,” Nick Forrester said, walking into their midst. He was a tall, good-looking man and a legend in the agency—for his conquests, both demonic and not, and because of the rumors that he’d been around for decades, although he appeared to be in his late thirties. He was controlling, which was annoying, but damned good at organizing and directing the war on evil—and he’d die for any of his agents. Sam hated to admit it, but she liked him. And she respected him immensely.
He was also impossibly sexist. He glanced at Sam’s legs, but she was used to it. She expected men to look at her. “Tonight is strictly surveillance,” he told them. “I don’t know if the page is the real deal yet and we don’t know just how tainted Hemmer is. I want photos, ladies, lots and lots of photos, so Big Mama can make up architectural and mechanical plans. And while you’re at it, you can bring me a swab of Hemmer’s DNA.” He smiled at Sam. “Just pique Hemmer’s interest—for now.”
“No problem,” Sam said, standing. Sometimes tainted humans had the barest percentage of demonic blood, but it was enough to make their evil frightening. “Are you coming to play, too?”
“Not a good idea. Hemmer and I have never met, so let’s just say the timing isn’t right.”
The easier for Nick to catch Hemmer by surprise, Sam thought.
“I want a word with you,” Nick said to Sam.
Without having to be told, Kit picked up the newspaper and left.
Nick stared, his blue eyes piercing. “Maclean is on the guest list.”
Sam worked really hard to keep her facial muscles frozen.
“Give it up,” he said. “You want Lover Boy, and we both know it.”
NOT ONLY DIDN’T SHE want Maclean, she couldn’t stand him. Sam followed Nick down the hall and into his office, aware of a new tension riddling her body and the fact that her fists were clenched. Instantly she loosened them. The only thing she wanted in regards to Maclean was payback. Because he was a son of a bitch.
“Take off the dress.”
She seethed, standing with him in a fancy salon in his fancy Scottish mansion. “You are an unbelievable bastard.”
He laughed. “I’ve heard it a thousand times. What’s wrong? Are ye afraid of the bright lights?”
She didn’t have a drop of cellulite on her body. Sam lifted the spaghetti straps of her silk dress and let it pool at her feet. “Take a good, long look—because it’s your last one.”
Oh, had he looked.
Last December, she’d gone to Loch Awe to bargain with Ian Maclean. He was Aidan of Awe’s son, and as such, he had all kinds of extraordinary powers—including the power to leap through time. She had needed a way to find her sister, shortly after a Highlander had appeared in New York and taken Tabby back in time with him. But the moment she’d walked into Maclean’s ancient mansion, his every innuendo had been sexual. She had expected it.
The first time she’d met him, she’d been with Brie, who’d needed his help. She’d pegged him then as an arrogant, oversexed playboy. She hadn’t been wrong. He was wealthy, mouthwateringly sexy, and powerful—and he knew it. That day, they’d met for no more than five minutes, but he’d looked at her like he couldn’t wait to rip off her clothes and do just about everything sexual a man could do to a woman.
But he’d left her standing on the street corner, alone, taking Brie back in time without her. Sam did not like being left out of the real action, and she had been furious.
When Tabby had vanished into time with Guy Macleod, she’d been determined to go after her. So she had gone to Scotland prepared to offer Maclean a deal—but not her body. She wasn’t going to be one of a hundred women he used. She’d be the one to say yes or no. But he’d turned the encounter into another sexual contest. When she’d met his challenge and dropped the dress, he’d looked at every inch of her body with an arrogant certainty—as if he knew he’d win one day. As if he could wait. As if she couldn’t. And then he’d walked out on her.
He had walked out on her.
Not only that, he’d left her standing stark naked in his salon, the doors wide open, and all of his guests had seen her.
It was hard not to spit with rage, even now. Men did not walk out on her. Men drooled over her body, most of which was muscle. Men gaped when they saw her face, with her long-lashed blue eyes, her small straight nose, the high cheekbones and strong jaw. But Maclean had been mocking. Who did he think he was?
Sam believed in payback. She held her grudges for life.
This was war—even if he was one of the good guys—and she was going to win.
But although his power was huge and white, and