Phantom's Touch: Sexy Paranormal (Book 2, Phantom Series) (27 page)

“I may not be versed in Lord Rogan’s history, but I do know that in each generation, the leader of the K’vr, a man with Rogan’s lineage, has possessed powers that could not be explained through traditional logic. Sometimes a psychic ability. Other times telekinesis or telepathy. Just enough of a magical connection to keep our followers believing. The K’vr has wisely remained small—exclusive even—exploiting the powers of the Grand Apprentice to our fullest financial potential or else”—he glanced at his guards—“offering physical strength in return for a comfortable living.”

“That explains the lack of brains in your musclemen,” Catalina cracked.

Farrow laughed. After years living with Gemma, he’d come to appreciate a woman with no sense of safe speech. Perhaps he could find some use for Catalina Reyes—after he had the sword.

Because in all honesty, Farrow was taking a great gamble in stealing the sword before he knew how to use it. He’d had no choice, however. Though Ross Marchand had been reluctant to give him any information Farrow could use against Lauren Cole to persuade her to part with the sword willingly, he had discovered how she’d manipulated the production team on her film so they would use the sword as a prop. Tying the weapon up in the multimillion-dollar production, where security would likely be intense once shooting began, had been a clever move. As it was, she kept the damned thing within ten feet of her at almost all times.

Marchand’s butler had been easily convinced that his adored master would live a longer life if Nigel procured the sword on Farrow’s behalf, but when he’d failed, Farrow had turned to Marchand’s other lapdog, the actor, who’d been entirely more efficient.

Now, once this Drake fellow arrived, Farrow would discover how to wrangle the magic that had made a man with reported superhuman strength appear out of nowhere.

“You shouldn’t insult my associates, Ms. Reyes,” Farrow warned. “They were responsible for bringing you here, just as they’ll be responsible for taking you away. Your fate might lie entirely in their hands.”

“You’re running this show,” Catalina contradicted. “Whatever happens to us will be on your head.”

Farrow smiled, the thrill of power filling his veins so intensely, he couldn’t imagine how magic would increase the sensation.

But it would. Yes, it would.

“All right, Ms. Reyes. So perhaps you should attempt to be just a bit nicer to me.”

Lauren let loose a string of curses that had even Helen goggling with wide blue eyes.

“He beat us here,” she said, gesturing toward the gate to Ross’s house, where David Drake was chatting through his car window with the man at the entrance.

But Helen didn’t respond. She hadn’t said a word since Lauren had told her about Aiden and the sword. Everything about Aiden and the sword, including the part about him being a phantom cursed by a Gypsy and freed by her while in the workout room.

Helen shook her head, snapping out of her disbelieving reverie and adding a few choice words of her own. “I thought you knew a shortcut.”

“L.A. traffic and shortcuts do not always mix,” Lauren griped, sliding into a spot on a slanted curb across from her former home and throwing Ross’s car into neutral.

As David eased his car beyond the gate, Lauren tried to figure out what to do. She’d never get past security. No amount of sweet talk or bribery could undo the fact that the last time she’d finagled her way inside, she’d stolen Ross’s sword.

She unbuckled her seat belt. “Drive up to the gate.”

“What?”

“Get in the driver’s seat and drive up. If the guard won’t let you in, make a big deal. Cause a stir.”

“You mean a diversion.”

Lauren smiled. “Yeah, that.”

Helen stopped to think, then unbuttoned her blouse and gave a little shimmy. “How’s this?”

“Irresistible.”

Lauren and Helen got out of the car. Helen slid into the driver’s seat and Lauren ducked down outside the passenger side of the car. Helen rolled down the window.

“What do I do if they let me in?”

“Use Ross’s opener and drive into the garage. Tell them he asked you to deliver his car. Then lock the doors and use the OnStar to call the cops. Tell them you’re inside Ross Marchand’s Malibu mansion and there’s been a break-in.”

“Why don’t we just call the cops now?”

“Um, hello? Not our house? The cops might consider it a crank. They know Ross has excellent security. And besides, I want to see what’s going on. But once you’re inside, use the phone in the garage. They’ll have to come in and check things out. In the meantime, I’ll try to get the sword back.”

“What do I do if that guard still doesn’t let me in?”

Lauren considered that possibility. The guard did not look like anyone who’d worked for Ross before. More than likely he was under the employ of Farrow Pryce.

“Give me five minutes tops and then drive away and call the cops from a safe distance. By then, I’ll be inside. Tell them I’m in danger. Anything. Then find Ross. He’s probably at the hospital, but he needs to know what is going on.”

Helen pursed her lips. “Maybe he gave this guy permission to use his house.”

Lauren shook her head. “He didn’t. Trust your instincts. If you think the guard is going to hurt you, leave. I have to protect the sword for Aiden, at least until the sun goes down. After that, Aiden will be able to take care of himself.”

Blowing out a pent-up breath, Helen shook her head despondently. “I can’t believe I’m buying this story.”

“You heard him,” Lauren reminded her. “Twice.”

“Three times, actually,” Helen corrected.

At Lauren’s disbelieving stare, her friend rolled her eyes. “On the day you were hurt in your trailer, I thought I heard a man scream. A straight-to-the-gut kind of scream. Coupled with the video where he appeared out of thin air, which I thought was a trick of bad lighting, and the fact that I know you’ve never once lied to me, what choice do I have but to believe you?”

Lauren reached into the car and patted Helen’s hand. “Thanks. Now, go do your thing. I’ll sneak in around the back and see if I can’t put some of my Athena training to good use.”

They wished each other good luck; then Lauren backed into a nearby oleander bush to remain out of sight while Helen pulled away. She’d considered waiting until night fell before attempting to retrieve the sword, but she had no idea how long this Farrow Pryce joker would stay at Ross’s house once he had the weapon.

She simply had to act and try to buy enough time for Aiden to emerge. Once she had the sword, she didn’t care if the police showed up and took it into evidence. At least Aiden would be safe from some cult-leader madman who might know more about the magic than anyone—including how to kill Aiden and steal the sword’s magic for himself.

Not three minutes later Helen was out of Ross’s car and throwing a world-class temper tantrum at the guard. Lauren used the diversion to sneak close to the gate, using the car as cover. The man keeping Helen from passing through was clutching something in his pocket. Lauren’s heart skipped a beat, but she had to trust that Helen had the smarts to know when to walk away.

Lauren slipped on the gravel, but before the guard could turn, Helen leaned into the car and honked on the horn. “Ross! Ross Marchand! Call this Neanderthal guard of yours and tell him to let me in! You have no idea who I am, buddy, do you? You’re going to be so fired once your boss finds out you wouldn’t let me through. Ross! Ross!”

She continued honking, giving Lauren the sound cover she needed to dash behind the guard and disappear into the thick bushes that surrounded the estate. From there she could creep up to the house and then swing around the back, which was almost entirely windows. Then she would be able to figure out exactly what was going on.

Or at least she hoped she could. She had no other choice but to try.

***

Aiden became instantly aware of hands on the blade of the sword—hands that were not Lauren’s. He expanded from the sword, both surprised and blinded by the vivid blue sky glistening above and around him. He was outside. But where?

Seeing in the light wasn’t easy. Rogan’s magic was more powerful in the dark. But he heard voices, though he recognized none.

The first voice oozed with an unctuous quality he found immediately distasteful. “You have succeeded where others failed. Congratulations.”

“You’ll leave Lauren alone now?”

That voice he placed. David Drake.

“I see no reason to bother Ms. Cole now that I have what I want,” the oily voice responded.

“But, see, you’ve already bothered me by stealing my sword.”

Aiden’s entire being stiffened, if that was possible in this diaphanous state. Lauren, far away but drawing nearer, had added her presence to the mix. Unexpectedly, judging by David’s curse. Where were they? Damn, but he could hardly see, though the sun was definitely moving downward toward the horizon. The blue of the sky was deepening, and streaks of red seemed to radiate from the sun. He could hear the familiar sound of waves crashing on rocks below them. He concentrated, pulling himself in from the wide-open space he seemed to inhabit now that he was awake and aware.

Chairs scraped as several people stood. Aiden felt the sword drop onto a hard surface. Outside, in the open, he had trouble drawing on the power of the sword. He needed walls. Boundaries.

“Ms. Cole,” the voice said. “There was no need for you to involve yourself in this matter. Turn around now and leave. You won’t be hurt.”

She laughed lightly. Her voice dropped, and the cadence changed just enough for him to know that she was channeling her strength through the woman she played on film. Only this wasn’t a movie or a play or a game. This was real. Danger swirled around Aiden like a fog: present, but too insubstantial to fight.

“T have no intention of leaving here without my sword, Mr. Pryce.”

“Mr. Marchand told you about me, then.”

“No, actually, Mr. Drake did.”

A bluff? To what end?

Someone slid a hand over the blade, jolting Aiden with awareness. It wasn’t Lauren. Nor was it this Pryce. The touch was decidedly female, and along with the tentative caress came an injection of understanding.

Farrow Pryce carried on the legacy of Lord Rogan. He sought the magic contained in the sword. Lauren and everyone around her was in danger, including Drake. And the man beside him—the man who, at the woman’s urging, touched the sword as well—came from the Forsyth line.

Aiden felt the connection almost instantaneously, then knew who the man must be—his so-called nephew, Ben, whom Helen had told Lauren about earlier. He had no idea how they could be related, but at this point, he did not care. The woman who’d transferred the information to him was clearly Catalina Reyes, the paranormal researcher. She possessed a magic he’d seen before only with the Gypsies—the gift of speaking with her mind. Aiden concentrated, traced a line up her arm, then across her shoulder to her neck.

“I am here,” he whispered.

She started, and he could feel her flesh ripple beneath his touch. “He wants Rogan’s magic,” she whispered.

“He can have it,” he replied.

“Not while you’re still using it, he can’t.”

Shifting, Aiden experienced a thrill of fear. Someone had noticed she was talking.

“Don’t speak,” he said, his voice so soft it might have been the wind. “How do I free myself?”

You need to be solid
, she replied in his mind.
Sunset is almost here
.

Aiden’s strength surged. The moment he achieved corporeal form again, he was going to rip Farrow Pryce to shreds.

“Is that all?”

She has to love you
.
Her love will set you free
.

Now, that
, Aiden thought ruefully,
could be a problem
.

***

Lauren had never much cared about accolades or honors. She’d become an actress for the paycheck and the glamour, and because she sincerely loved transforming into someone else. But staring down two men with guns pointed at her, acting as if she weren’t terrified, she deserved a damned Academy Award.

At the table just beyond the pool, and only a few yards from the drop-off that gave Ross one of the most stunning views of the Pacific in all of Malibu Beach, was a stunning Latina she assumed was Catalina Reyes and a man whose piercing eyes instantly reminded her of Aiden’s. Ben Rousseau. Each of them had a hand on the sword, and they both looked as terrified for her as she felt. She doubted they were here of their own free will.

The only person who looked cooler than an Aspen ski slope was Farrow Pryce, who had seated himself again after warning her away. Everyone remained still except David, who charged toward her so that she broadened her stance and drew up her arms, prepared to fight.

“You have to leave,” he said.

“I don’t have to do anything, David, except maybe pay you back for this,” she said, tilting her head so he could see the bruise she was certain now colored her jaw.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”

“That’s what you said last time, wasn’t it? No choice but to take Ross’s money and leave me to marry a man twice my age?”

David took another step nearer, but stopped when she jerked her hands a little higher in response. “How did you—”

“Helen told me,” she replied.

“I was a kid then,” he said dolefully.

“What’s your excuse now?”

“He said he’d kill you,” David whispered, nodding toward Pryce, who chuckled loudly.

“He’s not lying, Ms. Cole. This young man acted entirely on behalf of your continued good health. I don’t care about you or your former husband. I merely want the sword. I’ve been willing to pay you for it from the beginning. We’ve no need for violence.”

“Too late for that, don’t you think?” she challenged.

He ignored her, snapping his fingers. One of the men pointing a 9mm toward her holstered the gun and withdrew a checkbook.

This was her chance.

She glanced at David, who grew paler by the minute. Yes, she was angry with him. Furious, really. But fighting with him—and forgiving him—were best left for another day. She had to concentrate on Aiden. On the sword. On finding a way to outsmart this violent man who had no compunction about using people like Ross, David and Nigel to do his dirty work.

“I have money,” Lauren replied, sliding around David, entirely aware that the second guy still had his gun gripped tight. He moved to ensure that his barrel remained trained on her. The first man dashed to Pryce’s side and handed him the checkbook and a pen.

“There’s always room in your bank account for more.”

“Let David go,” she said, hoping for one less distraction as well as one less person she did not trust.

“You’re hardly in a position to make demands,” Farrow pointed out, gesturing toward his armed guards.

“No, but you’re in a position to show me a little goodwill. Murdering a major movie star is going to bring down some serious interest from the police, Mr. Pryce. Might seriously mess up whatever you have planned if you have to dodge cops. And the press. Ross isn’t here, but he knows you are. If anything happens to me, you’ll be the first person the cops will question.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked below his thin line of a mouth, but after a few seconds he smiled. “Well played, Ms. Cole. Well played. You may go, Mr. Drake. Your purpose has been fulfilled. Do remember to keep your mouth shut about our interaction. I wouldn’t want to have to hunt you down once my transaction with Ms. Cole is complete.”