MISSION: HER DEFENSE

TEAM 52 #4

ANNA HACKETT

Mission: Her Defense

Published by Anna Hackett

Copyright 2019 by Anna Hackett

Cover by Melody Simmons of BookCoversCre8tive

Cover image by Wander Aguiar Photography

Edits by Tanya Saari

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-925539-66-0

ISBN (paperback): 978-1-925539-67-7

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events or places is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

CONTENTS

What readers are saying about Anna’s romances

Anna Hackett Box Set

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Preview - Mission: Her Safety

Preview: THS and Norcross Security

Also by Anna Hackett

About the Author

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT ANNA’S ROMANCES

Heart of Eon - Romantic Book of the Year (Ruby) winner 2020

Cyborg - PRISM Award Winner 2019

Edge of Eon and Mission: Her Protection - Romantic Book of the Year (Ruby) finalists 2019

Unfathomed and Unmapped - Romantic Book of the Year (Ruby) finalists 2018

Unexplored – Romantic Book of the Year (Ruby) Novella Winner 2017

Return to Dark Earth – One of Library Journal’s Best E-Original Books for 2015 and two-time SFR Galaxy Awards winner

At Star’s End – One of Library Journal’s Best E-Original Romances for 2014

The Phoenix Adventures – SFR Galaxy Award Winner for Most Fun New Series and “Why Isn’t This a Movie?” Series

Hell Squad – SFR Galaxy Award for best Post-Apocalypse for Readers who don’t like Post-Apocalypse

“Like Indiana Jones meets Star Wars. A treasure hunt with a steamy romance.” – SFF Dragon, review of Among Galactic Ruins

“Strap in, enjoy the heat of romance and the daring of this group of space travellers!” – Di, Top 500 Amazon Reviewer, review of At Star’s End

“Action, danger, aliens, romance – yup, it’s another great book from Anna Hackett!” – Book Gannet Reviews, review of Hell Squad: Marcus

Sign up for my VIP mailing list and get your free box set containing three action-packed romances.

Click here to get started: www.annahackett.com

CHAPTER ONE

She smelled blood.

Blair Mason strode out of the elevator and into the marble-lined, ballroom lobby of one of the Spire Casino’s tall towers.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a bird’s-eye view of nighttime Las Vegas far below. Jammed-up traffic filled the Strip. Garish lights blinked on all the casinos, amplified by Christmas decorations as the casinos tried to outdo each other with their festive spirit. There were even lights on the large cranes that arched into the sky from the construction site next door.

The Spire was one of the newest casinos, made up of four tall glass spires all linked by glass bridges at different levels. It made her think of some fantasy palace.

Blair loved living in Vegas. She loved the vibrant, slightly-crazy energy of the city.

But the glitz hid a darker side as well.

To one side of the lobby stood an impressive suit of Japanese samurai armor. Her gaze ran over it hungrily. This armor was old and exquisite with iron scales and an elaborate helmet. There was a huge banner on the wall behind it proclaiming the name of the exhibition in bold, red letters: Soul of the Samurai.

To the other side of the space, a group of men and one woman were huddled, talking. Everything about them screamed “cops”, from their black shoes to their button-down shirts. But no one screamed it more than the man who followed her out of the elevator.

She felt him, like a low-level hum of electricity against her skin. He paused beside her, and despite the fact that Blair was tall for a woman at five foot nine, he towered over her. He had broad shoulders, and messy brown hair threaded with the odd strand of gold. His dark jeans hugged long, long legs, and he had a shiny badge attached to his belt.

Detective Luke MacKade. Las Vegas Metropolitan Police.

A man who regularly set her teeth on edge, and made her blood boil.

She shifted her high-tech, CXM7 rifle on her shoulder and watched the rest of her team—more tall, muscled men and one other woman—exit the elevator.

Team 52.

As always, she felt a quiet sense of pride to be a part of this team. They were some of the best people she’d ever fought with. They saved lives and made a difference.

At the front of the group was their leader, and Blair’s best friend, Lachlan Hunter. He scanned the room with his flat, gold eyes, taking it all in. Beside him stood Smith Creed. The big man was cradling his rifle and scowling. Lean, good-looking Seth Lynch was next, followed by sexy Axel Diaz and dark-haired Callie Kimura. Callie caught Blair’s gaze and hefted her medical kit up on her shoulder. The medic’s face, which was stamped with her Hawaiian heritage, looked unhappy. Callie hated when anyone was hurt.

They were all in their civilian clothes, because they’d been enjoying a night off at their favorite bar until MacKade had tracked them down.

“This way.” MacKade’s voice was a deep, confident rumble.

Of course, it came out sounding like an order. Blair followed him, scowling at his back. “You actually going to tell us anything, MacKade? Walking in blind is always a freaking bad idea.”

MacKade was Team 52’s contact at the LVMPD. And since Blair was the team’s second-in-command, it fell to her to liaise with him.

The liaising usually devolved into arguments. Team 52 was a covert, black-ops group, tasked with securing and safeguarding ancient artifacts. What most of the world didn’t know was that human civilization had been a lot more advanced than most historians believed. At the end of the last ice age, those civilizations had been wiped out by flooding. But every now and then, pieces of powerful, ancient technology popped up. In the wrong hands, they could do a lot of damage.

Not surprisingly, bad guys often wanted these artifacts. It was Blair’s job, along with the rest of her team, to stop them. The artifacts ended up out in the secure warehouse at their base, Area 52, hidden in the Nevada desert.

A smile briefly curved her lips. She was good at her job. As a Marine, she’d made a difference, but as part of Team 52, she rocked at bringing down assholes intent on hurting others.

But sometimes, that meant the fight got messy, and MacKade was generally tasked with the cleanup. He made no effort to hide the fact that he disliked it.

MacKade paused and swiveled. Brown eyes hit hers and she felt the impact like an electric shock.

Her fingers tightened on her rifle. She hated the impact this man had on her and she did her damnedest not to show it.

He glared at her. “You’ll be briefed.”

She tilted her head. “This century?”

“Blair.” Lachlan’s tone held a thread of warning.

“Samurai exhibit.” MacKade nodded at the banner. “Officially opens tomorrow, but tonight was a VIP, opening-night party with a small group of selected guests. Someone locked the doors, and then screams were heard.”

Blair’s jaw locked. Not good.

“First cops on scene managed to get in. They never came back out.”

Really not good. “Why’d you come and get us?”

“You’ll see.” MacKade swiveled, his boots clicking on the tiles as he headed for the cops. “Status?”

One older man lifted his head, rubbing the back of his neck. He wore a rumpled beige shirt over the start of a belly, and had thinning, brown hair. “Shit, MacKade. We got access to the first exhibit room.” The man released a breath, his curious gaze skating over Blair and the rest of her team. Then he straightened. “Everyone was slaughtered. All the VIP guests, security guards, the first cops on the scene.”

Shit. Blair shared a look with Lachlan.

A muscle ticked in MacKade’s jaw. His focused gaze moved to the closed double doors. “Where are the perps now, Baxter?”

“Well, we looked at some security footage. Looks like there is only one perp.”

Double shit. One person had killed a room full of people. Blair eyed MacKade. That was why he’d called in Team 52.

“Looks like the perp came in as a guest for the VIP preview of the exhibit,” Baxter continued.

“Where is he now?” Lachlan asked.

“He’s crossed over to the second exhibit room.” The older detective glanced at Team 52. “It’s over in the neighboring tower. There’s a damn glass bridge linking the two buildings.”

Blair shifted her feet. Her hands itched to grab her CXM and get in there.

The female cop stepped forward. She had her chestnut-brown hair pulled back into a no-nonsense braid. She looked about ten years older than Blair’s thirty-three.

“SWAT went in,” the woman said.

“What?” MacKade barked. “I told you to stall them!”

“We tried. Once they saw the dead in there—” the woman jerked a thumb at the closed doors. “They refused to wait. They wanted in.”

“We need to move,” Blair said. “Now.”

“Who are these guys?” The third cop—a younger, compact man with brown skin and black hair—asked, staring at Lachlan and the others.

MacKade didn’t answer. Instead, he spun on his heels and strode toward the double doors.

He threw them open and the scent of blood hit them all in the face.

Blair stepped inside, her chest hitching. Blood splattered the walls, ran over the tiled floor, and dripped off several glass exhibit displays.

“Fuck,” Lachlan muttered.

“Madre de Dios.” That voice was Axel.

Blair took in the samurai armor, swords resting on racks, displays of old scrolls. Most of the items were safe behind tempered glass. There were more black and red banners and large red lights hanging from the ceiling.

MacKade moved farther into the space and they followed, their boots echoing in the silent room.

Then Blair spotted the first bodies. So much blood. Fuck. What a mess. Her gaze took in several bodies lying facedown, arms outstretched, and her stomach rolled.

They’d all been sliced up, and blood was forming significant puddles on the tiles.

She stared at the blood, old memories stirring. No, you fucking don’t. Rounding a large display case, they saw the bodies of two uniformed cops—one man and one woman—sprawled on the floor. The man had been beheaded.

“Fuck me,” Axel murmured. He stood right behind Blair, and she saw horror in his velvet-dark eyes before he hid it.

He was a former Delta Force soldier, so he’d seen a lot of bad shit. But this was really bad shit.

At the end of the long room was a display up on a raised dais. It was a tiered wooden rack, clearly used for holding swords. There was one resting at the bottom of the rack, but three were missing.

Blair moved closer, sidestepping some blood splatter, staring at the empty spaces. A discreet tag sat beside the display. Katanas by master sword maker, Muramasa.

She glanced up and spotted MacKade standing beside the dead cops, his hands on his hips. His jaw was clenched so tight she’d thought it would shatter. She felt emotion pumping off him.

“Want to step out?” Blair asked quietly.

He lifted his head, his brown gaze hot and angry. “No.”

She shrugged. “I was just—”

“You aren’t even affected by this, are you?”

She pressed her tongue to her teeth. She knew he was pissed and she was a convenient target. “I’ve seen a lot of shit, MacKade. I can’t afford to lose it, or more people might die.”

Suddenly, screams and shouts echoed through the room.

They all turned, glancing toward the arched doorway that led to the glass bridge connecting the spires.

Lachlan rocketed past Blair, and she broke into a run. The rest of the team and MacKade were right behind them. The floor of the bridge was made entirely of glass. Blair wasn’t afraid of heights, but as she jogged across it, her stomach rolled.

“The SWAT team needs help,” MacKade said.

She focused on the closed door ahead. The sound of gunfire and frenzied shouts penetrated the closed entry. They needed to get into the second exhibit room.

Lachlan rattled the door, his face darkening. “Locked and barricaded.”

“Shit,” Seth murmured from behind her. “They’re being massacred.”

The sound of running steps echoed behind them. All of Team 52 swiveled, lifting their rifles.

Baxter and the other cops stumbled to a halt, their faces going pale.

“Who the hell can take on an entire SWAT team alone?” The female cop’s voice was shaky.

Lachlan shifted. “Get us in there, MacKade.”

Blair gripped her CXM tighter, aiming it at the door. “Now.”

“Okay, who the hell are these guys?” the younger cop bit out.

“We’re the people who are going to stop this,” Blair said.

The cop eyed her for a second, then her high-tech rifle, and finally he nodded.

MacKade checked the door again. “We’ll have to knock it down.”

Blair eyed him. “You and your guys should stay back—”

“Hell, no. I’m coming with you.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She’d make sure she kept an eye on him. He was on their side, mostly, and Team 52 would have more shit to deal with if he wasn’t around. He was absolutely a pain in her ass, but then again, even she had to admit he was a good-looking pain in her ass.

Shit. Don’t go there, Blair.

Lachlan stepped to the side. “Smith.”

The big man strode forward, lifted a boot, and kicked the doors open.

DETECTIVE LUKE MACKADE followed Team 52 through the broken door and into the second exhibit room. He had his Glock in his hand and aimed.

He watched the team shift from alert to battle ready. They moved together with the ease of a group who worked, trained, and fought together every day.

He knew they were badass and could handle themselves. Against his will, his gaze went to Blair. Especially the former special forces Marine and the woman who knew how to ignite his temper like no one else could. Hell, she just had to arch an eyebrow and it could make him mad.

Her blonde ponytail swung behind her. She was in jeans, simple white shirt, and a black leather jacket. As she looked around, light glinted off her left eye. That eye was silver, while her other was blue. He’d never seen a prosthetic like it before. She was pure power, competence, and focused intensity.

The gunfire had stopped, and he scanned the quiet room, taking in the priceless samurai artifacts in the deafening silence.

“Damn.” It was Baxter’s voice from the doorway.

Damn didn’t quite cut it. A dead SWAT officer lay on the floor just ahead of him. The man’s face had been slashed, and blood soaked his dark uniform.

Lachlan lifted a hand and gave a signal. As one, Team 52 moved forward.

More bodies clad in dark green SWAT uniforms. And more blood.

Shit. Luke’s pulse jumped. Whoever had done this had taken down the entire SWAT team.

Suddenly, one man groaned. Luke dropped down beside him, pressing a finger to the man’s bloody neck. He felt a faint pulse.

“Baxter, get this man out of here. He needs medical help.”

The other cop lifted his radio. “We need paramedics. Now. Rivera, help me move him out of the way. Clements, stop that bleeding.”

Baxter and Rivera carefully shifted the man off to the side, while Clements tried to stem the flow of blood from the injured man’s wounds.

Ahead, Team 52 fanned out.

“Anyone see him?” Lachlan asked.

“Nope,” Seth responded.

Blair stood in the center of the room, turning slowly. Then she went still, staring off behind two large displays of armor. “Over there.”

Her team turned, their high-tech rifles aimed. Luke swiveled and he caught movement at the back of the room.

A figure burst out from behind a display.

Shit. The man wasn’t very tall and had a slim build. He looked like a damn accountant. Neatly cut hair framed an ordinary face. He wore a wrinkled suit that was splattered with blood.

He was also holding a Japanese katana.

The man raced at Lachlan and Blair with a roar.

Even from a distance, Luke could see that the man’s eyes were red and bloodshot. He looked like he was hyped up on drugs.

As the sword sliced through the air, Lachlan dodged to the side. Blair ducked.

Team 52 opened fire. As the bullets hit the man, his body jerked.

But they didn’t slow him down. He swung the sword again.

“No effect,” Blair said calmly.

The attacker spun and rushed at her.

Luke’s heart thudded. He aimed his Glock, firing. But it was like tossing spitballs at a charging rhino.

Blair moved backward and whipped her CXM up like a sword. The katana hit her weapon with a clang. She and the man danced across the room, trading blows.

But her face was showing the strain. She blocked another hit, her arms shaking.

“Blair?” Lachlan said.

“He has increased…strength.” The words were pushed out between gritted teeth.

“Acknowledged,” Lachlan said. “It has to be the sword.”

“Think so,” she said.

Luke frowned. He knew in vague, general terms what Team 52 did, but as he stared at the silver sword and the perp, who should have been laid out by the number of bullets sent his way, Luke’s brain was having difficulty understanding just what he was seeing.

Suddenly, Seth and Axel stepped forward, the men going down on their knees. They rolled several small devices across the tiled floor.

The small metal balls bumped over the tiles, then exploded. An amber fluid pooled on the floor.

Blair saw it and angled in that direction. As she neared, she leaped over the goo.

The attacker stepped right in it.

And couldn’t lift his feet.

He growled, slashing out with the katana and trying to lift his shoes. With a roar, he jerked one leg up, his face going red from the strain.

He turned, just as Blair swung her rifle like a bat. It collided with the man’s head. He let out another enraged roar, shaking his head. He tore his other foot free and charged at Blair, face twisted like a demon.

Hell. Luke moved closer, but he knew his damn handgun was useless. He hated feeling helpless.

As the deadly sword arced through the air, he watched Blair bend backward. The blade passed over her. With the next swing, she jumped back.

But the very tip of the sword touched her bicep, leaving a line of blood on her skin.

She lifted her chin. “You’ve made me really mad now, asshole.” As the sword whirled again, she dodged and dropped to her knees. She rammed a punch into the attacker’s gut.

The man doubled over, air rushing out of him.

Blair leaped to her feet. “Time to end this, motherfucker.” She kneed him in the face, then struck his arm with a brutal, powerful kick. She moved with complete control of her body.

Luke sucked in a breath. She was a sight to watch.

The man cried out and dropped the sword. The katana clattered on the tiles.

She kicked his other arm, the sound of snapping bone clear. She lifted her fists, dropping into a fighting stance, and smiled. The man snarled.

He rushed at her, and she kicked and punched him. The man tried to fight back, but she ducked his sloppy swings. He was getting slower and slower.

Blair was relentless. Power and strength. Luke couldn’t drag his gaze off her.

“Come on!” she said. “You will not be hurting anyone else. Ever.”

With a vicious front kick, she sent the man flying into a display. Glass shattered.

He didn’t get up.

Luke strode forward. The man was sprawled on his back and not moving.

“Seth, restraints,” Lachlan said. “Callie, check him.”

The pair moved closer to the man, and Callie leaned down to assess his wounds. Seth was already restraining the man’s hands.

Luke was staring at Blair.

She was breathing heavily, still in a fighting stance. She rose and tossed her blonde ponytail over her shoulder.

Their gazes locked, and Luke felt like he’d been hit by a live wire. Pure, electric heat.

He suddenly realized he was as hard as a rock.

Dammit. Blair Mason wasn’t how he liked his women. She wasn’t soft or easy or pleasant. She was tough, violent, and abrasive.

But right now, watching her fight, seeing her strength. It rocked him to the core. He wanted her. Under him, over him, spread for him.

He shook his head, hard. Now was not the time to be thinking with his dick.

“Fuck me.” The quiet murmur was Baxter’s voice.

Luke looked over and saw his detectives looking up from where they were clustered around the injured SWAT team member. They were all staring at Blair with awe.

Rivera wiped a fist across his mouth. “That woman is…”

“Badass,” Luke answered.

“I’d consider leaving my husband for her,” Clements murmured.

Luke shook his head again, and forced himself to look at the downed attacker.

Callie lifted her head and gave one shake. “He’s dead.”

“Shit,” Blair said.

“You didn’t kill him,” Callie said. “The bullets did. They clearly had no effect at first, but once he dropped the sword, he had no hope. His insides were shredded.”

“What the hell is going on?” Baxter demanded. “How can a man function while he’s filled with bullets?”

Lachlan looked at Luke and raised a brow.

Luke turned to his detectives. “Baxter, you, Clements, and Rivera work with casino security and the paramedics. Organize for the bodies to be bagged.”

His people hesitated. Baxter looked belligerent, and Clements looked like she wanted to argue. But they finally nodded and left.

“What are we dealing with?” Luke asked.

Lachlan shook his head. “No idea, but whatever it is, it isn’t good.”

Blair shifted, her gaze scanning around the room. “Especially since there are two swords missing.”

Luke felt a gnawing in his gut. He knew the feeling. He’d first felt it when he’d discovered the body of his murdered mother as a teen. It was the one telling him that things were going to get a lot worse before they got any better.

CHAPTER TWO

Blair leaned against the wall, studying the body of the dead guy as they loaded him onto a gurney.

MacKade’s detectives had identified him. Turned out the guy was a financial auditor. She took in his slim build and lack of musculature. He certainly didn’t look capable of taking down an entire well-trained SWAT team.

Something about the sword had given him strength, and triggered him to do this.

They were back in the first exhibit room. Lachlan and Seth were circling the space, still searching for the missing swords. Smith and Axel were standing guard at the doors, and Callie was packing up her medical kit.

MacKade stepped in front of Blair. “You’re going to bleed to death.” He pressed a cloth to her arm.

“It’s just a nick.”

“Pretty sure you could have an arm amputated and you’d say it was just a nick.”

“I’m not an idiot, MacKade.”

He grunted and waved a paramedic over.

Blair gritted her teeth. Don’t argue with him. Don’t argue with him. An older woman in a paramedic uniform appeared and pulled the cloth away. “Needs stitches.”

Well, fuck. Blair wrinkled her nose.

“Sit,” the woman ordered.

Bad temperedly, Blair moved over and sat down on a small bench. She guessed the exhibit organizers had sprinkled the room with these benches so the guests could sit and marvel at the beauty of the samurai artifacts.

No one would be marveling in here after tonight.

The paramedic knelt beside her and started work. She jabbed a syringe into Blair’s arm and Blair winced. Then, when she saw the woman lift a needle, her stomach did a queasy roll.

Injections, she didn’t mind. Stitches…hell, no.

MacKade was still standing in front of her. God, she was eye level with his crotch. The man certainly filled out his jeans. She felt a shot of desire flash through her system.

Shit. Maybe she’d lost more blood than she thought. There was no way in hell she should be thinking about Luke MacKade’s package.

The paramedic started stitching and bile rose in Blair’s throat.

MacKade crouched. “You just took down a homicidal maniac, but stitches make your face turn white?”

“Don’t say stitches.” She waved a finger at him.

She expected to see amusement on his rugged face, but his warm, brown eyes just studied her.

“So, two swords are missing,” he said.

Blair latched onto the distraction. “Yeah, which is not good. And those last two words are in uppercase letters and underlined.”

“Any chance the other swords aren’t like the one this guy used?”

They looked over to where Lachlan was holding the sword in question. He had it wrapped in a thick cloth, and she knew its next stop would be a containment box, before they flew it back to Area 52.

“Probably not.”

MacKade ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. Figured as much.”

“We have to find them, MacKade. Soon.”

He nodded.

“We’ll send the one we have back to—” Blair eyed the paramedic working on her arm “—base. Ty can hopefully shed some light on exactly what we’re dealing with.” Dr. Ty Sampson was a former DARPA scientist and genius inventor. If anyone could work it out, it was him.

MacKade ran his hand through his hair again. “I’ve already got my people checking with local dealers who trade antiquities and antique weapons.”

“Whoever took them isn’t going to sell them.” Blair looked down at her arm and watched the needle move into her skin.

Bile rose in her throat. Ugh.

MacKade’s hand gripped her knee. “Blair?”

“What?” she snapped. She hated that he saw her weakness.

“Focus on me.”

“Generally focusing on you pisses me off.”

His lips quirked. “Better that than you vomiting or passing out.”

She hissed. “That is never going to happen.”

“Sure thing, cupcake.”

Her eyes bugged open. “Cupcake?”

“Heard you have a weakness for cupcakes.”

Now her eyes narrowed. “How the hell do you know that?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping. She got a whiff of his cologne—something woody and citrusy. And too damn delicious.

“I’m a detective, remember?”

A man rushed through the doors. He was older, well-dressed, with a set of round glasses perched on his nose, his near-white hair cut stylishly.

“Oh, my God.” He stumbled to a halt, looking at the blood smeared on the floor. He pressed a fist to his mouth.

“Exhibition curator,” MacKade murmured. “Quillan.”

The curator’s gaze landed on the sword rack at the end of the room.

“Oh no.” He took a few stumbling steps. “No. No. No.”

“All finished.” The paramedic patted Blair’s arm. “Only needed three stitches. You were a very good girl.”

Blair scowled at the woman. “If you expect me to thank you…”

The paramedic smiled and closed her bag.

“Let’s find out what this guy knows about the swords,” MacKade said.

Blair nodded.

“Mr. Quillan, I’m Detective MacKade, Las Vegas Metropolitan Police. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

The man visibly pulled himself together. “Yes, of course. This is terrible.”

“Where are the swords from?” MacKade asked.

“Japan, obviously. They were found in a private collection, a deceased estate. They were previously thought lost.” Quillan pushed his glasses up. “They were crafted by one of Japan’s most infamous swordsmiths, Muramasa. He founded the Muramasa school during the Muromachi period. That was during the 15th century, in Kuwana, Japan.”

“So they’d been locked away all this time, until whoever owned them died,” Blair murmured.

Quillan nodded. “It was a coup to have them here.” He pressed a hand to his stomach. “This is so terrible. Those swords are priceless and now they’re missing. My employers are going to be very, very unhappy.”

The man was more worried about the swords than the dead people. Blair glared at him and he eyed her, straightening as though he thought she might hit him.

“Mr. Quillan, people died here tonight,” MacKade bit out.

“Right.” The curator’s face went pale and he swallowed. “Right. I know. I’m sorry.”

“The swords,” Blair said. “What else do you know about them?”

“Like I said, made by Muramasa. He was one of the sword-making legends of Japan.” Quillan waved a hand at the rack. “The swords he made were said to be cursed.”

Blair felt a trickle of unease. MacKade looked at her and raised a brow.

“Cursed?” she prompted.

“Yes. Swords imbued with demonic powers.” The curator gave a forced laugh. “Of course, that’s just a myth. Those sorts of things aren’t true.”

Blair bit her lip. There were lots of ancient artifacts that were said to be cursed. Most were nothing more than a combination of vivid imagination and fantasy. But a few were legitimate pieces of ancient technology.

“The Muramasa swords are priceless,” Quillan continued.

MacKade nodded. “We’ll find them. That’ll be all for now, Mr. Quillan. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you, Detective. I hope you find what sparked this terrible event and find the stolen swords.”

Lachlan strode over. His gaze caught Blair’s and she lifted her chin.

“I’m taking the sword in,” Lachlan announced.

Blair noticed the now-familiar muscle tick in MacKade’s jaw again. She was starting to find it pretty fascinating.

“What?” Quillan spluttered. “You can’t—”

When Lachlan’s cool, gold eyes flicked the curator’s way, the man’s words dried up.

“That’ll be all, Mr. Quillan,” MacKade said again.

With an unhappy nod, the man walked away.

MacKade turned. “I’d prefer to have the damn sword locked up at the station.”

“It’ll be safer if we take it,” Lachlan said. “My team will examine it. We could find information that could help us.”

“So could my forensics team.”

Blair smiled. “You can’t stop us.”

MacKade’s brown eyes settled on her, anger sparking in them. Okay, she was baiting him, but it felt so damn good.

Lachlan shook his head. “Blair, we’re all on the same team.”

MacKade blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine. And she’s right, I can’t stop you. But we will damn well work together to find the other swords. This is my city and we have a team of dead cops. I will bring those swords in, and the bastard who stole them to justice.”

Lachlan was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Deal. I’m assigning Blair to you.”

Blair jerked and spun to face Lachlan. “What?”

Her boss and best friend—former best friend—just gave her a look.

Dammit. Lachlan knew MacKade drove her crazy.

“Work together,” Lachlan said. “We need to stop another massacre and get the swords back.”

Blair huffed out a breath. “Acknowledged.”

MacKade shot her a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you, Mason. I’m a good boss.”

“Working together, MacKade. I’m not working for you.”

“Semantics. I’m in charge of this investigation.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not taking orders from you.”

“We’ll see.”

She wrinkled her nose. Asshole. She stayed silent, but she was pretty sure he read her thought, because his smile widened.

LUKE CHANGED LANES, driving his black Ford Explorer toward police headquarters. Adrenaline from the night’s events had worn off, leaving him in dire need of coffee.

He was pissed. It was easier to be angry than feel guilt and sadness over the terrible loss of lives. It didn’t matter how long he’d been a police officer, every death hurt. Every person he couldn’t save ate at him. And it was worse when his fellow cops were taken down doing their duty.

God, so many of them. The SWAT team’s loss was a huge blow. There were families who’d been destroyed. Kids who’d lost a parent.

Luke knew in horrible detail the horror of losing a parent and having your family torn apart.

His hands flexed on the wheel. He wanted action. He wanted to know who the hell was responsible for this. And he hated handing over the one piece of evidence he had, even if he did know it was for the best.

Blair fidgeted in the seat beside him. “You got anything to eat?”

He frowned. “It’s four in the morning, and you’re hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I don’t have anything to eat.”

She grunted, then reached forward and fiddled with the tuner on his radio. The country and western station changed to rock music.

Luke leaned over and changed it back.

“I sense you’re pissed, MacKade,” Blair said. “I can feel your anger filling the car. So, spit it out.”

“People are dead. Cops are dead.”

She sighed. “Yeah, that sucks.”

He gripped the wheel hard. “I want my people to examine the sword.”

She leaned back in her seat. “Your people aren’t equipped and you know it.” She pulled a small package out of the pocket of her jeans and popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “It’s why you brought us in in the first place.”

“I know. But I don’t have to like it.”

“I get it,” she said. “You’re a control freak.”

Luke gritted his teeth. “I do my job. This is my city, and it’s my job to ensure its people are protected.”

Blair blew a bubble and then popped it. “We’ll take care of the sword, MacKade. It won’t hurt anybody else.”

His hands flexed on the wheel again. “We need to focus on finding the other two swords.” He shook his head. “How can a damn sword do so much damage? I don’t fucking believe in magic.”

“It’s not magic, MacKade. Just good old science and some poor human decisions.” She turned to look at him. “This is my job. I do whatever I have to in order to stop these artifacts hurting people.”

“And you usually leave a trail of destruction behind you.”

Her eyes fired. “That destruction would be far worse if Team 52 didn’t do what we do. You got a taste of that tonight.”

“You guys are mavericks.”

She made an enraged noise. “I don’t have the luxury of a slow, careful approach, Detective.”

“Being careful and considered doesn’t mean slow, Mason.”

“Sometimes I only have seconds to make life and death decisions.” She crossed her arms. “I won’t apologize for doing what I have to do in order to save lives.”

The car filled with a tense silence, and finally they reached headquarters. Years back, the LVMPD had brought together a bunch of bureaus and built the new facility. Three multi-story buildings formed a U shape around a parking lot lined with palm trees. The Homicide Section had a space on one of the floors of the main building.

Luke pulled into a parking spot, and by the time he got out of the SUV, Blair was out and glaring at him.

“If we hadn’t contained the man tonight, he might have torn through the entire Spire Casino,” Blair said.

He stalked up to her. Shit. He saw her point. But dammit, he followed the rules, enforced the law, and more often than not, Blair and her team rode right over the rules. “I know that.”

Their bodies brushed and he felt the electric shock of it rush through him. He saw her jolt as well, her eyes narrowing.

“I just wish you put some effort into containing the bodies and the chaos when you take down the bad guys.”

She made an angry sound. Her arm flashed out, her elbow catching him in the gut.

He grunted and when her hand shot out again, he grabbed her. In a fast move, he spun her and rammed her front against the side of his car. He twisted her arm up behind her back.

With another furious sound, she tried to fight him, but Luke crowded her with his body, his chest flush against her back. He kept her pinned, because he knew exactly what damage she could do if she was loose.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured against the back of her neck.

She snorted. “Like you could.”

“I know you have badass running through your veins, but we both know I could.”

She jerked against him.

Damn, she smelled good. He breathed in the skin of her neck. Not a perfume, but something she rubbed on her skin. “Now, we need to make enough peace to work together.”

“I’ll work with you. I want those damn swords found.”

“Good. Now, admit I have you trapped.”

She stiffened. “Bite me.”

“I’m starting to think we might both enjoy that.”

She stiffened even more. “You get hit in the head when I wasn’t looking, MacKade?”

Luke felt his control slipping. Hell, all Blair Mason had to do was breathe and his control was in shreds. In answer, he raked his teeth down the side of her neck.

She arched back, her toned ass rubbing against his hardening cock. She made a choked sound, just shy of a groan.

“You going to behave now?” he asked.

“Let me go, or I’ll break your leg.”

Her threat made him harder. Shit, he needed his head examined.

He stepped back. When her fist flashed out, he was ready, blocking her blow.

Blair stepped back, avoiding his gaze. “We have some swords to find, so if you’re done fucking around…”

She swiveled and stomped toward the glass front of the station.

No, he wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.

Inside, rows of chairs filled the waiting area in front of the large windows, where people could come to report and follow up on crimes. Even this early in the morning, it was pretty busy. They passed two khaki-clad uniforms hauling a cuffed man wearing a Hawaiian shirt between them. His greasy hair fell over his face and dark circles underscored his eyes.

“I don’t want no trouble.” The man twisted and jerked. “I just want to play my slot machines.”

“Yeah, Harry, we know,” one uniform murmured.

“Gonna hit it big on the next one. I know it.”

“Quiet—”

The cuffed man jerked free and, with a violent shove, sent one officer tumbling over some chairs. Screams broke out and Luke cursed.

The escapee barreled through some people, moving past Blair. Her foot flashed out. With a shout, the man fell to his knees, and Blair used her palm of her hand to slam his face into an empty chair.

The man howled and blood dripped from his nose.

“I think you broke his nose,” Luke said.

“Oops. I didn’t mean to.”

Hawaiian-shirt man was tenacious though, and jumped to his feet. “You bitch!” He lowered his head and charged at Blair.

She sidestepped and landed a hard chop to his arm. Luke heard the bone snap.

With another howl, the man fell back into an empty chair, cradling his arm.

Blair smiled darkly. “I meant that.”

Luke shook his head just as the officers arrived.

“Sorry,” the older officer said. “Thanks for the help.”

“I think he’s going to need medical attention,” Luke said.

The younger officer was eyeing Blair cautiously.

Shaking his head again, Luke led Blair to the elevators, and they stepped inside. Soon, they entered the Homicide Section. Lieutenant Bailey ran the section, and Luke liked his boss. The man was a seasoned detective, and knew Vegas like the back of his hand. He had three groups of detectives who worked homicide.

Luke stalked into the large room where his detectives had their desks set up. His team was there, along with the final detective on their team, Moretti. He felt the heavy pall in the air. Everyone was reeling at the lost of officers at the Spire.

“Rivera, did you get all the security footage from the Spire?” Luke asked.

The trim detective was the youngest member of their team. He stood, eyeing Blair. “Yeah, Luke.”

“I want to view it. Find us a room.” Then Luke stopped and dragged in a breath. “The best way to honor those we’ve lost is to find those swords and whoever caused this.”

His team nodded.

“Blair Mason, Detectives Les Baxter, Ben Rivera, Gus Moretti, and Joanna Clements,” Luke said. “Everyone, this is Blair. She’s a military consultant who’ll be helping with the case.”

“Military?” Baxter said.

Blair smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah.”

Baxter nodded. “I did a stint in the Marines out of high school.”

“Oh, yeah.” Her smile widened. “I was a Marine, too.”

Baxter smiled. “I was infantry. 6th Marine Regiment.”

Blair sat on the edge of Luke’s desk and crossed her legs at the ankles. “Force Recon.”

Baxter’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“Yeah, Baxter,” Luke said. “She can kill you with her little finger.”

Blair grinned. “Actually, I don’t need my pinky to do that.”

“You should’ve seen her at the Spire, Moretti,” Clements said. “Sorry, Blair, but you scare the shit out of me.”

Blair tilted her head. “I get that a lot.” She pointed at a box of donuts on Clements’ desk. “I am thrilled to see you’re living up to the police-donut cliché, because I’m starved.”

Clements grinned and shoved the donuts toward Blair.

Luke’s colleagues moved off to their desks, but his gaze stayed on Blair. He watched her inhale two glazed donuts, but his mind was still processing her earlier response. There’d been something flat in her voice when she’d responded to Clements.

“Okay, Room Two is open, Luke,” Rivera called out. “Security footage ready for viewing.”

Luke nodded. “Baxter, did you run that full check on our dead attacker? I want to know when he last went to the dentist, and what he liked to eat for breakfast.”

“Yeah, got it.” The older detective held up a folder. “Still got info coming in, but I have to say, the man is boring with a capital B.”

Baxter and Rivera headed for the conference room. Blair stood, and Luke took a second to lean in, keeping his voice low.

“Just so you know, I’m not afraid of you, Blair.”

She turned her head, the look on her face unreadable. “Maybe you aren’t as smart as I thought you were.”

He smiled. “You think I’m smart?”

Her nose wrinkled, and she moved to follow the others.

Inside the small room, they all sat on uncomfortable chairs around the long table. Moretti and Clements joined them. They watched a screen attached to the wall and the security footage from the samurai exhibit filled the display. Luke fast-forwarded through the footage until the guests for the VIP viewing started filtering in.

They saw the slender auditor enter and start wandering through the exhibit. He looked relaxed and interested. Just a man out for an enjoyable evening.

“He’s just a guest,” Rivera said.

Yeah, he didn’t look like he was there to steal swords or start a massacre. Luke flipped open the folder Baxter had handed him.

“His name is Byron Fuller,” Baxter said. “He’s an auditor with a local financial firm. Born and raised in Vegas. No criminal record.”

They kept watching, and then Luke spotted a figure in black enter the room. The man was very tall, wide-shouldered, and wore a hood that obscured his face. Luke straightened.

“Hel-lo,” Blair murmured.

They watched as the man headed straight towards the katana display at the end of the room. While no one was watching, he stepped closer and lifted the top sword off the rack.

“He knows where the cameras are,” Blair said. “He’s not giving us a look at his face.”

“And he went straight to those swords,” Luke said.

All of a sudden, one of the guests turned around, spotted the man, and pointed. Several more guests turned, and Byron Fuller stepped forward. The leaner man was frowning as he confronted the thief.

Even without sound, it was clear to see Byron was arguing with the hooded figure. Then Byron reached out and grabbed the sword.

And Luke watched as Byron jolted, the man’s hands flexing on the hilt of the katana.

“Oh, hell,” Blair murmured.

The room was silent as they watched the horror unfold. Byron Fuller turned, raised the katana, and exploded into some sort of berserker rage. His face twisted into a terrible mask as he tore through the guests.

Luke heard his detectives pull in shocked breaths. He sat there, every muscle in his body strung tight, as they watched the bloodbath. Fuller didn’t hesitate with any stroke of the sword.

A shuddering breath escaped Luke. Dammit to hell.

“If we want to find the swords, we have to find the man in the hood,” Blair said.

She hadn’t watched the massacre. Instead, she’d been watching the man in black. Luke saw the man as he disappeared behind some exhibits, with two katanas in his arms.

“He set that up.” Blair crossed her arms over her chest. “He let Fuller take the sword, and used him as a distraction.”

Baxter frowned. “But why did Fuller attack—?”

Luke lifted a hand and rubbed his tired eyes. “All right, I want everyone running searches. Baxter, contact local antiquities dealers. Rivera, see if our tech guys can enhance the video at all to get any part of the hooded figure’s face, or catch a reflection in those glass display cases. I want to know who the hell he is. Clements, see if the crime scene team picked up anything from the scene. Moretti, keep digging into Fuller’s life, just in case he was in on this. See if anything pops. But we’ve all had a long night, so for now, everyone grab a couple of hours’ sleep. I need everybody fresh.”

He saw Baxter scowl. Luke knew his team. Knew they were all eager to find justice for the dead. But if they were running on fumes, they could make mistakes. He watched them reluctantly file out.

Blair was leaning against the table. “Anywhere to grab some food around here? I want to—”

“You too, Blair.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “You want me to sleep? While some fucker is out there with two dangerous swords?”

“I need you sharp.”

“MacKade, on some missions I don’t sleep for days—”

“Not this one. I won’t tolerate mistakes that might mean we miss our chance to nail this guy.”

She moved closer, her boots brushing his. Her bi-colored eyes narrowed. “I can’t rest knowing more innocent people could die any second! It’s my job to stop this.”

“After you sleep for a few hours.” This close, he could see the exhaustion on her stubborn face.

“No. I refuse to be too late to stop the next massacre. And mark my words, MacKade, this isn’t over.” Her words were fueled by emotion.

“I know, Blair, I know.” He watched her face. There was something else behind her outburst, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Whatever was driving her, he didn’t want anyone else hurt, and that included Blair “Badass” Mason. Not that he was telling her that he was looking out for her. She’d probably punch him. “We can’t risk you not moving fast enough next time we face him.”

She blew out a breath. “Fuck.” She threw her hands in the air. “This is bullshit. Do you want more people to die?”

“No. Why are you getting so fired up about this? You know you’re tired. It’s just a few hours.”

She froze, and he saw something working behind her eyes. Pain. He was a detective, trained to notice the tiniest nuances on a person’s face. Old pain echoed in her eyes.

She hid it. “Fine. A couple of hours, and that’s it.”

Oh, the detective in him wanted to know what answers she was hiding. The man in him wanted to know what drove her.

Damn. Now wasn’t the time. Untangling all of Blair Mason’s layers would require weeks, and maybe a chainsaw. Time to refocus. “How long before Ty has any information on the sword?”

Blair shrugged. “Could be fast or slow, you never know.”

“Brief me when you know.”

She pulled a face. “Yes, sir.”

They walked out of headquarters together. “You need a lift?”

Blair shook her head and pointed.

A sleek, sporty motorcycle in fire-engine red was parked near his Explorer.

“I had Axel drop it off.” She swung a long leg over the bike and pulled on a black helmet. “I’ll see you in a few hours, MacKade. Don’t spend too much time getting your beauty sleep.”

Luke shoved his hands on his hips and watched Blair tear off. She drove him crazy, but Luke was coming to realize one important thing.

He wanted Blair Mason more than he’d wanted any woman in a very long time. He’d tried denying it, ignoring it, but it wasn’t going away.

And very soon, he was going to do something about it.

CHAPTER THREE

Blair pulled her red Ford Mustang up in front of the LVMPD headquarters. A moment later, MacKade pushed out of the front doors, his long legs eating up the distance to her car.

He wore a battered, brown leather jacket over a blue shirt, and his handgun was holstered on one hip, his badge on the other.

Untamed, masculine power. She sniffed, annoyed at her response. She’d felt that hard, muscled body pressed up against her when they’d had their little scuffle at his car. MacKade was built, she’d give him that.

She’d grabbed a few hours of sleep, and she had no intention of telling the annoying man that she felt refreshed.

He yanked open the passenger-side door. “What happened to the Ducati?”

She grinned at him. “I didn’t think you’d be happy sitting on the back of my bike.”

He snorted and slammed the door. “You got some rest?”

“A couple of hours. You?”

“I grabbed some at the station.”

Right. So, he made everyone else get some good rest, but not himself. Blair pulled out into traffic.

“You called me and said you’d pick me up,” he said. “So where are we going?”

“We’re headed to the Bunker. Ty has some information for us. But first, I need coffee.”

She stopped at a small coffee place near the airport and ordered a huge black coffee for herself. “What’s your poison?”

“Black coffee as well, but you know, regular size.”

She handed his smaller takeout cup to him, then took a huge gulp from hers. Ah. Heaven.

“Why don’t you just set up an IV?” he asked.

Blair smiled. “Good idea.”

When she pulled back onto the road, his cologne seemed to fill the entire car. The man was annoying and self-righteous, but he smelled good. She tried to breathe shallowly so his crisp woodsy scent didn’t work its way into her senses.

Not working. She grabbed her coffee, sipped, and burned her lip.

“How are your stitches today?” he asked.

“Fine. There are only three of them…anything less than ten doesn’t count.”

He stared at her for a beat before he shook his head and lifted his coffee.

Soon, they approached a rear security gate at McCarran Airport. She showed her ID to the guards, and drove toward the Bunker.

Team 52’s Las Vegas base of operations was an ugly block of concrete in a quiet corner of the airport. There was a small hangar attached, where Team 52 kept their experimental jet-copter when they came in from Area 52. It was also where their logistics manager organized things for them when they were in Las Vegas.

Blair climbed out of the vehicle and headed inside, MacKade close on her heels.

“Blair.” The pretty blonde sitting at the front desk bounded to her feet, a wide, gorgeous smile on her face.

“Hey, Kinse.” Blair moved closer and gave the woman a quick hug.

The blonde’s gaze went over Blair’s shoulder. “And Detective MacKade.”

“Afternoon.”

“I’m Kinsey,” she said to MacKade.

He nodded. “I know. I was involved during your kidnapping ordeal. Glad to see you’re okay.”

Kinsey’s pretty nose wrinkled. “Thank you. I’m happy to say that the whole kidnapping thing is well behind me.”

Kinsey was shacked up with Smith now and the pair of them were crazy in love. Blair narrowly avoided shaking her head. Smith Creed was over six feet of badass, and not the biggest sharer of feelings. But somehow, Kinsey had waltzed through the man’s defenses.

Still, it had taken Kinsey being kidnapped and held hostage by a terrorist group to knock some sense into Smith. She’d gone through a terrible ordeal, and ended up taking a bullet at the end of it. They’d all been scared out of their minds. Blair knew there was nothing worse than waiting to hear if a loved one was okay, being helpless to save them.

Actually, there was something worse. Her chest contracted. Finding out the person you loved more than anything was gone. Blair shook off the past and focused on Kinsey. It had been touch-and-go for a while, and Blair had watched Smith go through hell waiting to know that Kinsey would pull through.

Blair was damn happy that the two of them had found their happily ever after. They now called Smith’s cabin just outside of the city home. And Smith had smiled more in the last few weeks then he had in…well, ever.

Kinsey shot Blair and MacKade her mega-watt, former-showgirl smile. She waved a hand to a nearby doorway. “The others are in the conference room.”

Blair and MacKade moved at the same time, their arms brushing. Electricity skated up her arm and she barely suppressed a hiss.

The corners of his lips twitched. “After you.”

The Bunker conference room was a slightly more high-tech version of what they’d had at police headquarters. There was a sleek conference table, ergonomic chairs, and a huge screen on the wall.

The screen was filled with the face of Dr. Ty Sampson. The former military scientist spent most of his time out at Area 52, although Blair knew Ty had a place in Vegas. She suspected he stayed at base to avoid people interrupting him. He preferred working on his experimental designs for vehicles and gadgets for the team over socializing.

Right now, his handsome face—with short, black hair, dark skin, and neatly trimmed goatee—was scowling. Ty’s typical look. His broad shoulders were visible, encased in a white lab coat.

“I’ve been running tests on the sword. Age, composition. It’s made from a specialized Japanese steel called tamahagane. Construction is typical for Japanese katanas. A curved, single-edged blade, with a long grip to accommodate two hands. It dates to the 15th century.”

Blair looked at MacKade. “Muramasa’s time.”

“Did you find anything that would explain this bizarre berserker reaction it generates in people?” Lachlan asked.

Ty gave one shake of his head. “No.”

“The guy had increased strength, Ty,” Blair said. “There has to be something.”

The scientist lifted his chin. “Good morning to you, too, Mason.”

She rolled her eyes. “Good morning, Dr. Sampson.” She used a sing-song voice. Trading barbs with Ty was a pleasant pastime. She held out her arms. “Look, barely a scratch on me. I survived the homicidal sword wielder. Thanks for asking.”

Ty lifted his chin. “Glad to see you didn’t get an arm sliced off. No offense, Lachlan.”

Lachlan looked at the ceiling, crossing both his prosthetic and regular arms over his T-shirt-covered chest.

Blair clasped her hands to her chest. “Your concern is touching, Ty. So sweet.”

A woman shouldered into view on the screen, nudging Ty back a step. He scowled at her.

“Enough of the chit-chat.” Dr. Natalie Blackwell smiled, pushing her dark braid back over one slim shoulder. The Australian was Team 52’s archeologist. She wore a pretty, pink shirt with a tie at the neck. Even at base, the woman looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine called Sexy Librarians-R-Us.

“I’ve been gathering all kinds of information on this swordsmith, Muramasa. His full name was Sengo Muramasa and he was known as one of the most famous sword makers in Japanese history. Not quite the best, that title goes to Masamune. There are no exact dates for when these men lived, but Masamune predated Muramasa. There are some myths that Muramasa was a student of the master, but it’s likely they missed each other by at least a hundred years.”

“So this Muramasa,” Blair said. “What’s so special about his swords?”

“His swords had a few unusual features,” Nat said. “He frequently used a wave-shaped hamon on his blades—”

“Hamon?” MacKade said.

“It literally means ‘blade pattern,’” Blair said. “It was a visual effect on the blade caused by the hardening process.”

MacKade’s brows rose. “You know about swords.”

“I like weapons.”

Nat cleared her throat. “Muramasa also used a distinctive fish-belly shape for the nakago, which is the back portion of the blade where it extends into the hilt.”

Lachlan frowned. “None of this translates to a weapon with advanced powers.”

“Patience, Lachlan.” Nat tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Some accounts I’ve found about Muramasa claim that while he was renowned for being a genius at making swords, he also had a terrible temperament.”

“Sounds like you, Ty,” Blair said.

The scientist shot her the finger.

Nat ignored them. “Muramasa had an abrasive, violent personality, and was prone to flying into rages. And yes, the legends say that his swords were cursed. That as he created them, he prayed that they would become great destroyers.”

“Shit,” Seth muttered.

“The Tokugawa Dynasty ended up banning his swords, despite the fact that they were prized for their exquisite sharpness. So many of the Tokugawa family had been killed or committed suicide with Muramasa blades, that the blades were said to be cursed.” Nat tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. “They were said to cause bloodlust, that the swords thirsted for blood, and if the wielder didn’t kill somebody, then the sword compelled them to commit suicide.”

“Dios,” Axel said.

Nat leaned closer to the screen. “That said, I traced the history of the swords in the Soul of the Samurai Exhibit. The deceased estate, it was a family descended from the Tokugawa.”

“They kept the swords,” Blair breathed.

“So it seems.” Nat leaned back. “There’s an ancient legend that talks about a contest between Muramasa and Masamune.”

“But you said Masamune lived well before Muramasa,” MacKade said.

Nat nodded. “Yes. But the legend illustrates the beliefs about Muramasa and his swords. The story says that Muramasa challenged Masamune to a sword-making competition. They both crafted their blades and suspended them over a stream. Muramasa’s blade, called 10,000 Cold Nights, cut everything that passed it—leaves, sticks, fish. But Masamune’s blade, called Tender Hands, only cut leaves. The fish swam up to it safely. Muramasa laughed and believed he’d won, but a monk watching the contest declared that Masamune’s sword was superior, because Muramasa’s blade cut indiscriminately, that it was evil and blood thirsty. In contrast, Masamune’s blade didn’t cut the innocent and undeserving needlessly.”

MacKade shook his head. “How can a sword be cursed? Even by scientific means.”

“I’m still working on it,” Ty said. “I’m testing for all types of toxins and poisons. It must be something in the way the sword was made. But I haven’t found it yet.”

There was silence around the room. Everyone knew that the longer it took for them to work out what was going on, the greater the chance that more people would die.

“I’ve got my team questioning dealers, fences, and collectors across the city,” MacKade said.

Blair eyed him. She strongly suspected that while she and the other detectives had been sleeping, MacKade had been working.

“We dug into Fuller’s life. He’s clean. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Poor bastard,” Axel said.

Suddenly, MacKade’s phone rang. He nodded at them, pulling it out of his pocket. Blair watched as he stalked out of the room, pressing the phone to his ear.

Lachlan moved closer. “He holding anything back from us?”

She shook her head. “He sent me and his detectives home for a nap, but as far as I know, he hasn’t got any leads. He’s as motivated as us to find the swords.”

But when MacKade returned, her gaze went to his face, and she tensed. He looked grim.

“There’s been another incident.”

Blair straightened. “What?”

“We’ve had reports of people being attacked by someone wielding a sword. Several are reportedly dead.”

Blair’s hands curled into fists. “Where?”

“A fancy penthouse at the Waldorf Astoria.”

“You need us?” Lachlan asked.

MacKade shook his head. “Reports are that the perpetrator is gone. He only left bodies.” MacKade looked at Blair. “Let’s roll.”

BLAIR PULLED her Mustang to stop in front of the sleek tower of the Waldorf Astoria. Luke saw several police cruisers out front. As he climbed out, he nodded at the nearby uniforms.

“Well one perk of being police are the prime parking spots,” Blair murmured. “Not sure it outweighs the death, crime, and mayhem, though”

He shot her a look, holding the door to the lobby open for her.

Inside, they strode toward the bank of elevators, they skirted the large Christmas tree set up in the center of the lobby. He saw the uniforms waiting for them.

One officer nodded at him. “This is the private elevator to the crime scene, Detective. Housekeeping called it in.”

“Thanks.” He nodded and gestured Blair into the elevator.

He stabbed the floor button for the penthouse, and resisted the urge to tap his boot, or punch the fancy, mirrored walls. He knew what awaited them at the top. Beside him, Blair was relaxed, leaning against the elevator wall like she didn’t have a care in the world.

But as anger punched in his gut, he saw the lines bracketing her eyes. He studied her more closely. Her jaw was tight. Her hands were curled hard around the railing. She wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended.

“Whoever did it is gone,” he said. “The first cops on the scene cleared the penthouse, and security footage confirmed that the man responsible left.”

Blair nodded, but he noted her fingers brush over her holstered SIG Sauer. When the elevator slowed and the doors opened, several cops were waiting for them. Baxter was there, looking rumpled.

“Hell of a mess, Luke.”

Luke’s stomach hardened. The penthouse was all sleek tiles, glass, and opulence. It was decorated in an overdone style that shouted “I’m rich” and, as he strode forward, he eyed a life-sized Buddha statue. No way he could relax in a place like this. At the end of his shift, he liked to grab a beer, drop onto a comfy couch, and watch a game.

Huge, complicated chandeliers dominated the ceiling, and the couch looked as comfortable as a rock. He wondered if Blair liked it. When he glanced her way, he saw her top lip was curled, and he fought a smile.

Then he saw the blood. The urge to smile died a quick death. Lots of blood.

There were three bodies lying in the living area. Blood had formed thin red rivers across the tiles. The bodies were all tough-looking men in suits. They all had handguns.

Luke moved down the hall, Blair moving silently behind him. They checked the first bedroom. It was untouched.

Then he moved into the master.

There was a wall of windows surrounding it, but his gaze went straight to the giant, circular bed.

There was a woman resting on the white sheets. Dead.

Shit. Luke took in the blood soaking the sheets, and the bloody footprints on the carpet. For a second, he was back in his childhood home. Seeing other bloody footprints and his mother’s lifeless eyes.

His hand curled tight.

“MacKade?”

He sucked in a breath and kept staring at the carpet.

“Hey.”

A hand touched his cheek and he looked into Blair’s mismatched eyes.

Her steady gaze snapped him back. “I’m okay.”

He moved toward the windows, staring down at the city below. Casino signs blinked merrily, and taillights on Las Vegas Boulevard winked on and off. They were unaffected by the death, but somewhere down there were two dangerous weapons.

“No swords here,” Blair said.

“Clearly one of the swords was here.”

“Yeah. It got away from someone.”

And Luke knew it could happen again.

“Who owns the apartment?” Blair asked.

“Let’s find out.” Luke strode back into the living room. “Owner of the apartment?”

One of the cops moved forward. “Dummy corporation.”

Baxter lifted a small notepad. “Rivera is tracking it down, but he said there is a long trail of offshore companies. It’ll take time, and to be honest, we might not ever get the answer.”

Luke looked over and saw Blair wandering around the edge of the blood pools. She stopped, hands on her hips, looking down at the dead men.

“What do you see?” he asked her.

“These guys were muscle. Guards.”

“And the woman?”

She arched a brow. “Entertainment.”

“So what does that add up to?”

“Someone with money.”

“You think whoever was here was a collector or a buyer.” That’s what Luke thought.

“I don’t know yet.” Something flashed in Blair’s eyes. “But I don’t care how many fucking dummy corporations they’re hiding behind, we need to find them.”

“For once, Mason, you and I are on the same page.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Sitting on the edge of Luke’s desk, Blair sipped her coffee and munched on a slightly stale cupcake. She’d made MacKade stop for coffee and a snack on their way back to the station.

“We do have chairs, you know.” He nudged one with his boot.

“I like it here.” She swiveled, eyeing his neat and tidy desk. “It’s interesting watching you in your milieu.”

“You know what milieu means?”

“Ooh, sting to the heart. You saying I’m just a dumb Marine grunt?”

Something flashed in his eyes. “You’ll never hear me say that.”

She grinned. “I think I’m growing on you, MacKade.”

He snorted.

Blair snatched a pen off the desk and threw it at him. Of course, he caught it with lightning-fast reflexes.

Their gazes locked for a second, and she felt the hum of sexual tension between them. She released a breath. Something in her head warned her to get far, far away from this man. Luke MacKade wouldn’t be an easy, fun lover you tussled with and then walked away from with a smile.

But Blair was no coward.

MacKade finally broke the connection, then grabbed his coffee and sipped.

“Any luck tracking down the corporation that owns the penthouse?” she asked.

“No. It’s a tangle of shell companies and offshore corporations.” Frustration laced his voice.

“I know someone who can untangle it.”

MacKade raised a brow, leaning back in his chair.

“Brooks.” Team 52’s resident computer geek and former Naval Intelligence officer could perform miracles with computers. “He could probably crack it in a few minutes.”

MacKade pondered the offer, then nodded. Blair reached into her backpack and pulled out her secure, heavy-duty tablet. She woke it from sleep mode, tapping in the commands to initiate a secure call to the Area 52 base.

The Team 52 logo blinked onto the screen, then dissolved, leaving Brooks’ handsome face behind.

His brown hair was a little mussed, his dark-framed glasses heightened his sexy-geek look, and tattoos in red, blues, and greens peeked out from the sleeve of his black T-shirt. The shirt pictured a set of fangs on it, with the words “Rancor ate my homework” in the center.

Blair resisted rolling her eyes at Brooks’ never-ending supply of humorous shirts.

He smiled. “Well, howdy there, Deputy Mason.” His voice was an exaggerated drawl.

She poked her tongue out. “I’m with the police, not the sheriff.”

“Do you have a shiny star?”

“Shut it, Brooks. We need your help.”

“What have you got for me?” He cracked his knuckles and pushed his glasses back up on his straight nose.

“We can’t track down who owns the penthouse of the latest attack. MacKade tells me it’s owned by some tangle of dummy corporations.”

Brooks’ face turned serious. “Send the info through to me.”

Blair tapped the screen. “Sent.”

MacKade came up behind her, looking over her shoulder. She felt the heat of him on her back, and resisted the urge to elbow him. His woodsy scent engulfed her and she fought back a moan.

“Hey there, Detective MacKade,” Brooks said.

“Brooks.” MacKade was close enough that his deep voice shivered through Blair.

She felt the brush of his breath on her ear. Damn. Again, she found herself breathing through her mouth to minimize his impact.

“Oh yeah, looks like a nice little tangle.” Brooks’ fingers flew over the screen of his tablet. “But they can’t hide from me.”

For a second, Blair and MacKade shared an amused glance.

“Geeks are the same,” MacKade murmured, “doesn’t matter if they work for the police or not.”

“I heard that,” Brooks grumbled. Then he straightened and shot a hand into the air. “Got something.”

MacKade’s eyebrows rose. “That quickly?”

“I have skills, Detective. I also have a name. BrightSea Industries.”

Blair tapped a finger on her chin and looked at MacKade. “Mean anything?”

He shook his head.

“I’m running some searches on the company,” Brooks said. “I’ll send you through what I find.”

“Thanks, Brooks. I owe you some of that toffee you love.”

“I won’t say no. Stay safe.” The screen went black.

Blair swiveled her head. “Okay, so we find out who the hell owns BrightSea—”

There was a brisk click of heels. She heard MacKade groan.

Blair raised her head to a slick-looking woman striding through the Homicide Section toward them. She was slender, and wore a dark suit that fitted her perfectly, the snug skirt showing off her slim legs. Her dark-brown hair was pulled up in a complicated twist at the back of her head. She was carrying two steaming takeaway coffee cups.

“Luke.” Her gaze settled on him, her voice filled with warm promise.

“Allison.” MacKade’s voice was empty of everything except irritation.

The woman’s brown eyes landed on Blair and she lifted her chin. Then she looked away.

Ooh, Blair had been dismissed. She crossed her jean-clad legs, picked up her coffee, and took another sip.

The woman stopped. “Luke, did you arrest this woman?”

Blair’s eyebrows rose, and she turned to look at MacKade with wide eyes.

“No,” he bit out.

“But sometimes he wishes he could,” Blair added.

He shot her a look. “I could think of some things to do with my handcuffs.”

For a fleeting second, Blair had the far-too-tempting image of him spread out on a bed, naked, cuffed to the headboard. Hot, dirty desire hit like a shotgun blast.

She forced the image away and sniffed. “I can pick handcuff locks.”

She saw a flare of heat in his eyes before he turned back to the woman. “Allison, why are you here?”

The woman had a sour look on her face. “I had to pick up some documents for one of my cases.”

Ugh, a lawyer. Blair took another sip of coffee.

Then a soft look crossed Allison’s face. “And I miss you.”

MacKade circled his desk and dropped back into his chair. Blair had the vague impression that he was trying to put some distance between himself and the woman.

“This isn’t the time or place for personal conversations,” he said. “I’m busy.”

Ms. Lawyer tilted her head. “Then return my calls. Let’s go out for dinner again.”

God, he’d dated this woman? Blair smothered a snort behind her coffee cup.

She sensed the woman look at her again, then she once again focused on MacKade. She held up one of the cups. “I got your coffee. I know just how you like it.”

Score a point for double meaning. Blair’s gaze dropped to the coffee cup MacKade already had on his desk. “He’s got coffee, Slick.”

The woman’s head swiveled and she glared at Blair. “Luke, who is this woman?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “Allison, I’m busy with a case.”

“The Las Vegas Slasher?”

Blair groaned. She hated the media and their dumb names. “Really? That’s the best they could come up with?”

“It is unimaginative,” MacKade said with a brief smile.

“Who are you?” Allison demanded.

MacKade stood. “She’s a consultant.”

Allison frowned. “She doesn’t look like a consultant.”

Blair snorted. “Damn. I may lose sleep knowing you think that.”

Ms. Lawyer stiffened her spine. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but Luke and I need some privacy.”

“Lady, we’re working. We’re trying to stop people from losing their lives. You don’t seem stupid, so I’m guessing you can read that he’s done with you, but you’re ignoring the signals. I suggest you turn around on those skinny heels and walk out.”

Allison’s face went red. “What did you just say to me?”

Blair sighed. “You heard me. Look, I don’t do cat fights.”

Suddenly, MacKade was at Blair’s side. He threw an arm across her chest. “Don’t antagonize her.”

Blair huffed out a breath. “I’m just sitting here.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. Allison, don’t antagonize her.”

But Allison cocked a hip, looking like she was ready to launch into a tirade.

Clements appeared, eyeing Allison like she’d smelled something bad. “Back again, Allison?”

The lawyer’s nose wrinkled. “Detective Clements.”

“I wouldn’t mess with Blair. She’s already broken someone’s nose in here today.”

Blair smiled at the female detective. “That was an accident.”

“And you also broke his arm.”

MacKade made a choked noise, and Allison’s eyes went as large as dinner plates.

“Okay, you got me, Clements,” Blair said. “That bit wasn’t an accident.”

Suddenly MacKade’s phone rang and for once, he looked happy for the distraction. He pressed it to his ear. “MacKade.”

“Got it.” He ended the call, turning to give Allison his back. “Got a call from a dealer who might have something for us. Let’s go.”

“YOU DATED THAT WOMAN?”

Luke glanced at Blair in the passenger seat of his Explorer. “Unfortunately. Although she wasn’t a bitch to me at the time.”

Blair shifted. “So, you like polished women in designer labels and heels.”

He looked at her more intently. “No. I like someone who is loyal, works hard, has values. It took me a while to discover Allison was more interested in Allison than anything else.”

“Guess your detective skills need some polish.”

Luke shook his head. Allison was the least of his problems, and had already sucked up too much of his time.

They were driving into the Arts District, not far from headquarters, where a number of higher quality pawnshops and dealers were situated.

He pulled up in front of Harrison’s Pawn. When they got out, he scanned the street, then the wide window of the shop. As he and Blair stepped inside, Harrison Gold was standing beside a glass case filled with jewelry and other valuables. He was a short man with a round belly and a wide smile. He’d owned his shop for over thirty years, and had always cooperated with the police.

“Detective MacKade.” Harrison bustled forward. “Nice to see you.”

Blair broke away, moving down another aisle of the shop. She was no doubt soaking in every detail of the place.

Luke studied Harrison. The man looked…nervous. Perspiration coated his round face. “You said someone’s been asking around about some Japanese swords?”

Harrison bobbed his head. “They’re offering lots of money to buy these swords.”

Hmm, so it wasn’t someone selling, it was someone looking to buy. “Who’s the interested buyer?”

Harrison swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t have a name. Just got rumors. Someone’s fishing.”

“How much are they willing to pay?”

“Millions.”

Luke looked over at Blair and saw her eyeing the pawn dealer. Luke refocused on Harrison, who was rubbing his fingers over a non-existent spot on the countertop. “Anything else for me?”

“Nope. No. That was it. Just saw the news on the Slasher and thought it might help.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Luke nodded. “You have my number. Give me a call if you find out anything else. And Harrison, if these swords turn up, you call me.” As Luke headed for the door, he paused and glanced back. “And don’t touch the swords without gloves on.”

Harrison swiped a hand over his greying hair. “Ah, okay.”

Luke strode out with Blair right behind him.

“He knows more than he’s saying,” she said.

“Yeah. But he’s a pretty decent guy. I expect he’ll call me soon.”

“So, someone knows the swords were stolen and wants them.”

They walked down the street toward his SUV. “That’s my take.”

The attack came out of nowhere.

The lean, muscular figure was dressed all in black. He wore a mask over the bottom half of his face. Only his black eyes were visible.

He moved fast, and suddenly Luke saw sunlight glinting off metal. The man was holding a katana.

Luke cursed, diving to the side. He hit the sidewalk.

Blair ducked the swinging sword and spun away. Luke rose, drawing his handgun. But before he could fire, the man came at him with a flurry of swings. Luke leaped backward, slamming into a parked car.

The sword swung again, and fuck, Luke was pinned. Then Blair rammed into the guy. She knocked him off balance, and Luke pushed away from the car.

Blair launched into an attack.

Luke straightened, watching her fight. She fought with that power and brutal strength he’d seen before. It wasn’t pretty or practiced. This was real, life-and-death fighting.

He watched her kick the sword and it flew out of the attacker’s hand.

Luke quickly lifted his Glock and fired.

The man dived. Damn, missed. The attacker was too close to Blair, and Luke couldn’t risk firing again.

The man leaped into the air. He launched into an intricate combination of martial arts kicks. Shit, he moved so damn fast.

Blair dodged, blocked, and got in a few blows. Then the man managed to land a kick to Blair’s gut. She flew backward, slamming into a shop window.

But she instantly charged forward again. “Come on, asshole. Can’t you do better than that?”

God, she was goading him. The man let out a shout and slammed a vicious kick to her hip. She stumbled.

Shit. Luke strode closer, with no thought except to protect Blair. He watched the attacker scoop the dropped sword off the ground, lifting it high.

This time, Luke kicked the man. The man turned, swinging the sword. Luke leaned back but felt the stinging kiss of the blade above his left eye.

Then suddenly gunshots rang out.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

The bullets hit the sidewalk. The man dropped the sword, spun, and ran.

Damn.

Luke gave chase, racing down the sidewalk. But the man jerked between two parked cars and ran into the street. Cars screeched and horns blared. Luke jerked to a stop and watched the assailant disappear into an alley across the street.

Luke swiveled and saw Blair standing beside him, holding her SIG beside her thigh.

“You’re bleeding.” She strode up to him, yanking her jacket off, then her shirt.

For a second, his chest hitched, then he saw she was wearing a tank underneath. She pressed the wadded shirt above his eye.

“God, this is bleeding everywhere,” she said. “We need to get this cleaned up.”

“It isn’t bad enough for a trip to the emergency room.” He didn’t have time to sit around twiddling his thumbs. “Need to drop this sword off at headquarters.”

“It didn’t seem to have the same effect as the one from the exhibit.”

“No, but I still want it checked.” He rubbed his bloodstained shirt. “Let’s drop the sword, then I need a change of clothes anyway. We’ll head to my place.”

She paused for a second. “Okay. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FIVE

They had a big fight over who drove.

The man was injured. Okay, it wasn’t a bad cut, but still. Blair didn’t like the fact that MacKade won.

As he drove down a tidy street lined with typical Las Vegas houses in Spring Valley, she cast a worried glance his way. He had blood all down the side of his face, and the cut over his eye was still oozing.

There was a strange feeling in Blair’s stomach. She didn’t like seeing him hurt. It was silly, because she’d seen people hurt way worse than this before. So what made this situation different?

He pulled into a driveway and cut the engine. She climbed out and paused, hand on the top of the door, studying his house. It was nice and tidy, with cream stucco and a tile roof, a double garage, and a warm-toned, wooden door. The yard was done in xeriscaping to suit the hot Las Vegas climate and reduce the need for water. She guessed it was easier maintenance for a workaholic police detective as well.

MacKade eyed her as he walked to the front door. “Don’t worry, Blair, the suburbs aren’t contagious.”

She snorted and followed him. He unlocked the front door, and she glanced around with interest. Glossy, wooden floors, pale-gray walls. There was the requisite oversized, leather couch and a huge TV. It politely said, “single man who knows what he likes.”

Then he moved into the kitchen and her eyes popped open. The place was a showpiece. The top-of-the-line, stainless steel appliances and granite looked like they’d been designed by a chef.

“You cook?” she asked.

“Not often. But I’m not too bad. People I bought the place off of had renovated the kitchen.”

Blair couldn’t boil an egg. Okay, she could, but it was likely to be rubbery. Her gaze snagged on the blood on his face. Quit gawking at his kitchen, Blair, and remember why you’re here. “First aid kit?”

“Under the sink.”

She found a huge red box—of course MacKade would be prepared and have a king-sized first aid kit—under the sink and moved toward him. “Sit.”

Shooting her a disgruntled look, he pulled out a chair from the wooden dining table and sat down. Through the large window facing the back yard, she saw the glitter of afternoon light on water.

“You have a pool?”

“Yeah. It was part of the reason why I bought the place. It’s heated too.”

The pool was large and deep-blue in color. The yard wasn’t big, and there was paving all around it with a few small trees lining the back fence. Blair loved to swim. It was her dream to one day have a house with a pool.

She set the first aid kit down on the table and popped it open. She grabbed some sterile wipes and started cleaning the blood off his face. When she got a better look at the cut, she decided it could probably do with a couple of stitches.

“Without a few stitches, this will probably scar.”

“It’s fine.”

Blair tried to imagine how she could convince him to go to the hospital, and failed. She sighed. She’d refused the hospital herself…more times than she could count.

She pulled out a bandage and carefully placed it over the cut. “There you go.”

Then Blair noticed how tense he was and she stilled. She realized she was standing between his outspread legs. Between those muscled thighs, dark denim was stretched tight. She swallowed and looked at his rugged face. She saw a little bit of dried blood at his temple and reached up and rubbed it away.

Their gazes locked.

He’d protected her today. He’d rushed in to defend her from the attacker. It had been unnecessary, of course, since she didn’t need protecting. But still, there was a part of her that liked it. She wasn’t used to being protected. Having backup, yes, protected, no.

MacKade’s hands moved, gripping her hips. “Blair.”

His deep voice shivered through her. He tugged her closer, pulling her tighter between his legs. He just kept staring at her, and she waited, fighting an internal battle.

“You going to keep ignoring this pull between us?” he said.

She sucked in a breath. It was the first time he’d stated it outright. “I was thinking about it.”

“I want you.”

God. His words shivered through her. Dammit, she wanted him, too.

“We are a really bad idea,” she said. “One, we’ll fight all the time. Two, we’ll argue all the time.”

“Fighting and arguing are the same, so that’s really one point.”

“We have a professional relationship.”

He snorted. “We’re usually facing off and yelling at each other. I wouldn’t call that very professional.”

Luke MacKade was a good man. He had a neat, tidy house, and she was sure he pictured putting a neat, tidy woman in it one day. And having neat, tidy kids.

That was so not Blair.

And he made her feel, made her want things that frankly scared the shit out of her.

But she’d never been a woman to deny herself what she wanted. Maybe she and MacKade could twist up the sheets, burn off this tension, and walk away.

Yes. That sounded like a plan.

She lowered her head and kissed him.

His mouth opened and she slid her tongue in. Oh man, he tasted delicious. She sank her hand into his hair, tugging on the thick strands. He pulled her closer, and she felt the heat of him pumping off his big body. She loved his size—his height, the hard breadth of his shoulders.

A growl vibrated through him and he deepened the kiss. More. She needed more. Emotion stormed through her, leaving her head spinning. They kissed like they’d never get enough of each other, fingers digging in, barely coming up for air.

For a moment, Blair forgot where she was, hell, she barely remembered her own name.

What the hell was this?

She pulled back, panting. Fooling around with a guy, sex, it was supposed to be fun, easy.

“That was…” Shit, she didn’t know what it was.

“Pretty damn awesome.”

She shook her head. “You should stick to sleek lawyers, MacKade.”

The corners of his lips lifted, but she could tell that he was annoyed. “I’ve had my tongue in your mouth, Blair, so it’s about time you call me Luke.”

She just stared at him.

“I see all those tough layers of yours, Blair. I see them, and I’ve decided to cut through them and find what’s beneath.”

Her heart thudded hard. Panic slid through her veins, and she worked hard to find some scathing words. Something to make him back off.

She needed him to back off.

Blair opened her mouth, just as her phone beeped. Grateful for the interruption, she pulled it out of her pocket and saw a text from Lachlan. It said one word: Griffin’s.

“I need to meet my team.”

MacKade stood. “I’m coming.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’ll update you—”

“I’m coming.” His voice was firm and unyielding.

“Fine.” She needed to get out of his nice house, with its nice pool, and no doubt his nice bedroom with a nice, big bed. “This didn’t happen.”

“It happened.”

Blair swallowed a frustrated growl.

They didn’t talk on the drive to the sports bar. Before he’d even put the Explorer into park, she was out, striding toward the bar.

She opened the door, and instantly the familiar sights and sounds eased her. The long wooden bar was lined with stools, and there was a row of television screens over the bar, tuned in to different sports games. A few pool tables occupied another area at the back.

Her team was sitting at the long, scratched-up bar. Blair really needed a beer, but since she was working, a Coke would have to do.

Lachlan’s gold gaze zeroed in on her face, then flicked to MacKade. There was no missing the bandage over Luke’s eye. “What happened?”

“Blair, did you hurt our poor detective?” Seth wore a shit-eating grin.

She shot her teammate a sour look. “We were attacked.” She sat on a stool. “We went to see a dealer and a guy with a sword was waiting for us when we left.”

MacKade took the seat beside hers. “Wouldn’t be surprised if the tip the dealer received was just to lure us out.”

Blair went into detail on the attack, listening to her teammates grumble and Axel curse in Spanish. Lachlan had a very unhappy look on his face.

Pulling Lachlan’s fries closer, Blair dug in. She was starving.

Suddenly, MacKade’s phone rang. With a jerk of his chin, he moved toward the pool tables to take the call. Damn, that man’s phone rang constantly. It would drive Blair insane.

“How’s it going?” Lachlan asked.

“Fine.”

“That’s it?”

“So far.”

Her friend was eyeing her suspiciously.

“You?” she asked.

“Chasing leads, but nothing yet. Brooks is digging into this BrightSea Industries.” Lachlan swiveled on his stool. “You’re pretty wound up for someone who’s fine. Not like you.”

“I’m. Fine.”

Callie leaned closer, dark eyes narrowed. “Oh, my God. Did you sleep with him?”

“What?” Blair’s pulse spiked. “Who? MacKade? No! I only saw you guys a few hours ago.”

Callie wagged a finger at her. “Something happened.”

Blair shoved another fry into her mouth. She and the others had given Lachlan, Seth, and Smith a hell of a hard time as the men had fallen in love with their respective women. Blair was not planning on being on the receiving end of the same treatment.

“Did you kiss him?” Callie persisted.

Blair opened her mouth and closed it. When she looked up, her entire team was grinning at her.

“Shut it, assholes. I was almost killed by a ninja today.”

“Samurai,” Seth said.

MacKade returned. “Tests on the sword from the attack this afternoon came back.”

“That was fast,” she said.

“Didn’t take long. Sword’s a cheap knockoff. Nothing special about it.”

As he sat back down, Blair sensed her team looking at MacKade then at her and back again.

Shit. She shoved more fries in her mouth.

“THIS IS ME,” Blair said.

Luke pulled to a stop in front of a mid-sized apartment building not far from the Strip. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was well maintained.

She jumped out of the car before he could say anything else.

He rolled his eyes. So damn prickly. But there had been nothing prickly or hesitant about the kiss they’d shared. She kissed with every inch of her being, all-in. Luke could still feel her, taste her.

When he got out of the car, she frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m seeing you to your door. And I’m going to come up and check your apartment. We were attacked today.”

“There’s no need. I’m a big girl.”

“I know. I’m still coming up.” She unlocked the front door of the building and they walked in. She shot him an impressive scowl.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” she snapped.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he countered.

She took the stairs to the next floor, and he followed her down the hall. As they approached the door at the end, he saw her stiffen.

He glanced at her apartment. The door was ajar. At the same moment, they both drew their weapons.

She met his gaze, face serious, and nodded her head. He nodded back.

She nudged the door open with her shoulder.

As Blair went high, he went low. They entered her apartment. At first glance, it looked untouched, and as he took it in, his eyes widened. This was not what he’d expected from Blair Mason.

The walls were covered in bright artwork. The paintings were all splashes of paint in wild blues, greens, and yellows. There were also lots of shelves stuffed with books.

Focusing on the task at hand, they quickly cleared the two-bedroom apartment—where he tried not to take too much notice of her metal-framed, four-poster bed. They came back into the living room, and clearly his surprise was evident on his face.

“What were you expecting?” she bit out. “Guns and knives on the walls? Skull-and-flames décor?”

Luke paused for a second. “Yeah.”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s no one here now. And nothing looks like it’s missing.” She checked her security system. It had been disabled.

“So, who was here, and what did they want?” he said.

Neither of them had any answers.

“Let’s take a closer look around,” she said.

They did another walk-through. Clothes littered the floor in her bedroom. Luke snatched up a twist of filmy fabric off the floor. “Most former military personnel I know are tidy.”

Blair turned and snatched the tiny nightgown out of his hand. “Hands off. I had enough years of being tidy. At home, I do whatever the hell I want.”

She turned and then she hissed. She pulled open both her closet doors, and that’s when he saw the throwing star—shuriken— embedded in the door.

Something primal moved through him. A possessive need to ensure her safety. He didn’t like this. Not at all.

“I’m staying,” he told her.

“What?” She turned to face him, thrusting her hands on her hips. “I don’t need a bodyguard, MacKade. I’m a military-trained professional.”

He took a plastic baggy out of his pocket. He kept a small stash for occasions just like this. Using his pen, he worked the shuriken free and slid it into the bag. Maybe they’d get prints, but he didn’t think they’d be that lucky. “This is a threat.”

She waved a hand. “Good. I want to know who the hell came into my place. I can protect myself. And if you stay here, I’ll just have to protect your ass, as well.”

Anger clogged his throat. “You’re hardheaded and obstinate.”

She shoved her hands against his chest, then strode back into the living room.

“Blair—”

She spun. “Do you think I’m some kind of damsel in distress or delicate flower?”

“No, I don’t think that. Wanting to ensure your safety doesn’t take away from your ability to protect yourself.” He released a breath. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

She shoved him again, and this time, he grabbed her arms. Something exploded in her eyes and she came at him. Damn, she was strong. They scuffled, and she shoved an elbow into his gut.

The air rushed out of him. “Dammit, Blair.”

“I could take you down right here,” she said.

He spun her, fast. Then he shoved her facefirst against the wall, holding her arms behind her back.

She threw herself backward. But he was ready, dodging his head out of the way before the back of her head rammed into his nose.

They spun, and he kept a firm grip on her arms. “Why are you fighting me so hard? Am I getting too close, Blair?”

“Shut up.”

Her foot whipped out, tripping him. Cursing, he grabbed at her, but she turned, throwing her weight against him.

They fell, crashing onto her wooden coffee table. It flipped and they fell to the floor.

Hell. Luke heaved himself up and cursed. “You can’t bend or lean on anyone, can you?”

She sat up, glaring at him.

He shook his head. “You have no soft edges, Blair. You’re all hard. You’d cut a man and make him bleed. It’s no wonder you’re single.”

Luke regretted the angry words instantly. It was his frustration talking, but he felt her jerk. Her face went blank.

Shit. He’d gone too far.

She pushed to her feet, her body stiff. “Get out.”

Fuck. Fuck. But as she just stared at him, he let his anger fuel him. He strode for her front door. “I’m gone.”

CHAPTER SIX

Blair stood at her kitchen counter, sipping her coffee. She’d slept like shit after her altercation with Luke. She sighed and took another sip. Like caffeine could solve all her problems.

The strong-tasting brew slid down her throat. Normally, she’d cook herself a mound of bacon and eggs—she could at least fry one—but the memory of their fight messed with her appetite.

Dammit, nothing messed with her appetite.

She drank the rest of her coffee and stalked into her bathroom. After she dressed, she pulled her hair up in a ponytail, and looked at herself in the mirror. Automatically, her gaze went to her prosthetic eye.

No, she wasn’t soft. She was toned muscle, a straightforward attitude, and she actually liked beating up bad guys.

But she could bend. Maybe.

She stroked the corner of her eye—one Ty had made for her when she’d joined Team 52. She had better vision than before the horrible attack that had taken her eye.

Sights, sounds, and smells came back to her, hitting her like bullets. The attack, the bomb blast, Lachlan’s shouts.

Blair heaved in a breath. That was shit she didn’t think about.

Shit happened. Her hands curled around the sink. Some people died, other people lived. Life went on.

Shaking off her mood, she headed back to the living room to grab her gear. She needed to get to work. As she clipped on her holster, she glanced out the window and noticed the police cruiser sliding slowly down her street. She paused and the breath rushed out of her.

She knew. She knew that the cruisers had probably been doing drive-bys all night. Her arms fell to her sides. He’d left her, mad as hell, but he’d still ensured her protection.

Shit. Her chest was tight.

Heading out her front door, she pulled out her cellphone and called Lachlan.

“Hey,” she said, when he answered.

“Hey. Got anything?”

“Nothing. We’ll be checking out more leads today. You?”

“Nothing new.”

“Do we know how the swords work yet?”

“No,” Lachlan replied. “It’s driving Ty crazy. The man still hasn’t slept.”

Bummer. Knowing how the swords functioned could help them dramatically. “Someone broke into my apartment.”

“What?”

“Left a shuriken embedded in my closet door.”

Lachlan growled. “And you didn’t call it in?”

“Nothing else was touched.”

“Blair—” Her friend’s voice was a growl.

“I’m meeting MacKade at police headquarters. We’ll keep going through what we have.”

“I’m pulling you off police detail.”

“Hell, no. You’re right. If I work with the police, we’ll find these swords much faster.”

Lachlan grunted. “Don’t be a superhero, Blair. Any more shurikens, you let me know.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Blair.” A pause. “You’re part of a team. Let us help.”

Her throat thickened. “Lachlan, do you think I can bend? Or am I all sharp edges?”

Another pause. “MacKade being an asshole?”

She sighed. “I may have provoked him.”

“You can bend, Blair, but not easily. And all those sharp edges are protecting soft.”

She swallowed. “I’m not protecting anything. With me, what you see is what you get.”

Lachlan made a noise.

“Look, I have to go,” she said.

“We’ll be in Vegas today. You need me, just call.”

She headed for her parking spot and decided to take her Ducati. A ride would help clear her head. “If we find anything, I’ll check in.”

“Okay. Stay safe, Blair.”

Blair tucked her phone away, then tugged her leather jacket closer. There was a nip in the air today. She pulled her helmet off the handlebars.

She tugged the helmet on and climbed on her bike. She started it, the engine vibrating between her legs. Smiling, she pulled out, zooming down the street. She decided to make a quick stop on the way to the station for baked goods.

She considered donuts, but decided that was too clichéd. Besides, she had a hankering for cupcakes. Something told her she was going to need them today.

She pulled into Sprinkles Cupcakes at the Flamingo—her favorite place for those delectable little treats—and grabbed half a dozen of her favorites. She stuck them in her backpack before speeding off again.

As she zipped through traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard, out of habit, she scanned her mirrors. It wasn’t long before she noticed something. Frowning, she casually glanced in her mirrors. Three bikes had pulled out of a side street. They were all black, and the riders were all dressed in black.

There was nothing about them that should inherently make her suspicious, but out of curiosity, she flicked on her indicator and turned onto another street. As she zoomed through the traffic, she spotted the motorbikes following her.

Well, hello, there.

Blair took a circuitous route along some side streets, not making it easy for them to follow her, but not wanting to lose them, either.

If they wanted a showdown, she’d give them one.

But as soon as she neared police headquarters, her company disappeared. She pulled to a stop in front of the station and slid off her bike. She scanned the street in both directions. They were gone.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the traffic rolling past. Maybe she’d imagined it? Maybe, but she doubted it.

Shaking her head, she grabbed her backpack, pulled out her cupcakes, and walked inside.

The sound of ringing phones, murmured conversations, and distant raised voices hit her. She had to admit, it had a certain charm. She took the stairs two at a time.

When she reached the Homicide Section, MacKade was already at his desk. Today, he was wearing a shirt in deep, chocolate brown, with dark jeans. The brown exactly matched his eyes, and he looked too damn delicious.

Her mouth went a little dry. He looked up at her and an awkward tension throbbed between them. He was on the phone.

“I can’t do a family dinner right now, Dad. Yeah, things are busy.” Pause. “Tell, Deidre I’ll fix that light for her as soon as this case is closed.” Another pause. “Yeah, and why am I the one who has to give my nephew driving lessons? My brother is a perfectly good driver.” A grunt. “Yeah, fine. Okay, look Dad, I have to go. Yeah, of course I’ll be there for Christmas lunch. Yeah, catch you soon.” MacKade ended his call. “Family stuff.”

That was nice. Blair talked with her mom and dad semi-frequently. Once, a long time ago, they’d been close. But then their lives had imploded and their happy family was gone in a blink. Blair swallowed. Her parents now had busy lives centered around their retirement community in Florida. “Your family’s in Vegas?”

“Yeah. Dad, a sister, and a brother, a few nieces and nephews.” He rose. “You ready to go through some more security footage from the Waldorf Astoria?”

Good morning to you, too. Clearly, he was still pissed.

He’d insulted her. He shouldn’t be acting angry. Don’t give him a reaction, Blair.

She opened her container, selected a cupcake, and bit into it. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

IT WAS JUST the two of them in the conference room, and Luke could only describe the atmosphere as tense.

He pulled the security footage up on the screen, trying to ignore his reaction to Blair. “You going to share those?” He nodded at the pack of cupcakes in front of her.

She pulled them closer to her. “No.”

He watched her white teeth bite into a cupcake.

He was mad at himself. Mad that he’d lost it with her last night, and lashed out without thinking. It was two steps forward, one step back with this woman.

As the footage rolled, he reached out and stole one of the cupcakes. She rounded on him, anger filling her face.

“Give that back.”

“No.” He took a large bite. “You owe me.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Blair, I was pissed off last night. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

She stared at the screen resolutely, her body stiff. “Fine.”

“It’s not fine.” He understood now that he’d really hurt her. He was only just realizing that Blair Mason’s tough hide was covering some incredibly soft spots. “I’ve got no idea why you’re single. You’re attractive, smart, and tough. I like all of that. A lot. Too much.”

Her gaze swung to him, and something worked through her fascinating, mis-matched eyes. “We have a mission to complete.”

He nodded. “And the investigation has to be our priority right now.”

She gave him a nod, and he swore she almost looked relieved. Luke tapped his fingers on the table. I’m not giving up, cupcake. Hell, no. She might think she was safe, but he wanted to understand Blair more than ever.

Yeah, he also wanted her naked in his bed—or on any flat surface—but he wanted to know what made this unique woman tick. He was only just realizing that she let very few people slip through her defenses.

They both stared at the screen for a while, lost in their respective thoughts.

Then she stiffened and leaned forward. “Go back.”

That’s when Luke spotted it. A man crossing the street, holding a cylindrical tube over his shoulder.

“That cylinder could hold the swords,” Blair said.

“Let’s check the other cameras. See if we can get him from another angle.” Luke scrolled through.

“There!” she said.

Luke froze the footage on the man’s face. It was just his profile, but it was clear enough. He had dark eyes and dark hair, with heavy eyebrows and a broad forehead.

“I can get some of our tech guys to run this through our facial recognition databases. It’ll take some time…”

But Blair was already pulling out her tablet. “Brooks will be faster.”

A second later, Brooks’ face came up on the screen. Today, his shirt had a picture of an Imperial walker from Star Wars on it, with a bandage on its leg and a cone used for injured dogs around its neck. Luke’s lips twitched.

“I’m sending you a photo, Brooks,” Blair said. “I need you to run it through facial recognition. We think it’s the person responsible for killing the people at the Waldorf penthouse. I need a name.”

The man nodded. “On it.” He tapped on something off screen. “Got it. Running it now.” Barely a few seconds passed. “Got a ping. Guy’s name is Anthony Kazan.”

“Already?” Luke said.

“Told you, I’m very, very good, Detective.”

“So, who is this Kazan?” Blair asked.

“He works for some rich guy called Salvador Morgan.”

Luke frowned. “I’ve heard of him. Shady, but never been in any trouble.”

Brooks nodded. “Most of his wealth is from real estate. He’s also known as a collector of weapons. The older the better.”

Luke and Blair shared a glance. For a second, their fight was forgotten.

“I’ve also just found something else.” A wide smile broke on Brooks face. “Remember the owner of the penthouse at the Waldorf, BrightSea Industries?”

“Yeah,” Blair said.

Brooks nodded. “Salvador Morgan is a board member of BrightSea.” Brooks kept tapping.

Luke froze, excitement hitting him. “So, Morgan probably has access to the penthouse.”

“Yes,” Brooks said. “Although, my bet is that he owns it. You know what the Welsh meaning of the name Morgan is?”

Blair straightened. “No.”

“Bright sea.”

Shit. They were on to something. “Run him,” Luke ordered. “I need an address.” He looked at Blair. “I think you and I should pay Mr. Morgan a visit.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was big and ugly. Blair eyed the enormous mansion. They’d been buzzed in at the gate and driven up the huge, circular driveway.

The sprawling, vaguely Mediterranean-style house screamed “look at me” in the loudest possible way. It was out in Henderson, surrounded by other, equally as big homes. She and Luke walked up to the enormous front door, inset with etched glass. Salvador Morgan’s place was surrounded by lush lawns and neatly-pruned gardens. No xeriscaping here.

MacKade rang the doorbell, and a second later, a man in a suit opened it. He stood ramrod straight, his face dour.

“Oh man, a real butler,” Blair muttered.

The man’s stoic face didn’t change, but he gave her a look like she’d crawled out from under a rock.

MacKade held up his badge. The butler stared at it for a second, then waved them in. “Mr. Morgan will be happy to see you. Please follow me.”

Feeling a tiny bit disappointed that the guy didn’t have a British accent, Blair entered the mansion. Her boots clicked on the marble tiles. “Holy cow.”

An enormous double staircase led to the upper story. A huge chandelier dominated the void above their heads.

The butler shot her another look, and she held up her hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal the silverware.”

MacKade’s soft laugh echoed through the foyer. As they walked inside, she glanced into a large living area flooded with light. It was done all in shades of white: white walls, white carpets, white couches.

There were also two women lounging on one couch, as sleek as the furniture. They were both wearing tiny bikinis and lots of jewelry. Blair didn’t bother to fight her eye roll. The women were long, thin, and clearly model wannabes.

She watched their gazes fasten on Luke, interest flaring.

Blair rolled her eyes again, leaning in closer to him. “What a cliché. I keep expecting a tiger to wander through.”

“A white one,” MacKade murmured back.

Blair laughed and the butler speared her with another sharp look. Yeah, yeah, I’m not sleek, cultured, or pretentious enough to fit in around here.

The man led them down a long hall and stopped at a set of double doors. He knocked, then threw them open to reveal a spacious office decorated in dark woods with gray accents.

A man rose from behind an enormous oak desk.

Blair took him in briefly, before her gaze went to the weapons lining the walls. God. Her belly clenched. There were swords, daggers, axes, and crossbows, all of them in top condition. It was one hell of a collection.

Then her gaze snagged on a dagger on the wall resting beside its silver sheath.

“Shah Jahan’s dagger,” she breathed.

“It’s very rare, and one of the most valuable knives ever sold.” The man rounded the desk. He wore gray slacks and a white, striped shirt. He had a clean-shaven, handsome face, smooth, brown skin, and dark hair. She noted that his hair was styled and his nails manicured.

“I’ve read about it.” Once owned by a famous emperor of the Mughal Empire, it was perfectly formed, the etched blade an elegant curve with a sturdy hilt. A weapon made to be used. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing it. Or using it.”

“You fight with blades?” Morgan asked.

She smiled. “I like fighting of all descriptions.” She pointed to the dagger. “But seeing something like that is pretty amazing.”

His gaze sharpened on her, sliding down her body. “I like rare things.”

MacKade took a step closer to Blair, their arms brushing. “Mr. Morgan, I’m Detective Luke MacKade with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police. This is my colleague, Blair Mason.” He held up his badge.

Morgan’s gaze cooled. “Salvador Morgan. I’m always happy to help Las Vegas’ hardworking law enforcement.”

Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo of Kazan from the security footage. “Do you know this man?”

There was a flicker of something on Morgan’s face, then it was gone. Blair felt the urge to drum her fingers, but kept watching him.

“Yes, Anthony Kazan. He’s been in my employ for over six years. I’m afraid I haven’t seen him for several days.”

“What was he doing for you?” MacKade asked.

“Tony is a jack-of-all-trades. He was working on a lot of jobs for me.”

“Something to do with the cursed swords of Muramasa?” Blair asked.

She saw annoyance cross MacKade’s face. But time was ticking, and she wasn’t going to waste time tiptoeing around with Morgan.

Salvador Morgan leaned back against his desk. “I’ve heard the legends about Muramasa and his swords. They are beautiful blades, and very valuable.”

Blair wandered closer to a display of swords on the wall. She reached out, her finger trailing over the hilt of what she knew was a Viking sword.

She noticed Morgan watching her, his gaze on her fingers. She saw the flash of interest. Creep. He was watching her like he might watch an interesting weapon he wanted to possess.

“They are very valuable.” She turned. “And would be a nice addition to your collection.”

“There are lots of things I’d like to collect,” he drawled. “But yes, I would love a Muramasa sword in my collection. Preferably two.”

Ugh. After this, she was going to need to take a shower. She felt a throb of something from beside her and turned her head. Anger was written all over Luke’s face.

“I have no idea where Tony is,” Morgan said. “But if you find him, I’d like to know. He has some things that belong to me.”

The man was ballsy, practically admitting that he’d organized the theft of the swords. But gut speculation wasn’t enough for them to do anything about it.

“Thank you for your time.” MacKade gripped Blair’s arm and yanked her out of the office.

They didn’t talk until they were outside the man’s mansion.

“That’s one guy who’s taken the cliché of rich dude to the extreme,” she said.

MacKade yanked open the door of his Explorer and then stomped around to slide into the driver’s seat.

Well. Someone wasn’t happy. “I just moved things along, MacKade. I didn’t want to spend all day in there.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he started the SUV.

“Guy has some balls admitting to stealing the swords,” she added.

“And I will damn well find a way to prove it and charge the bastard.” MacKade’s words came out like bullets. “We’ll stop by Kazan’s house. Baxter checked it out and said the guy wasn’t there, but I have a search warrant now.”

His tone was ruthlessly contained. Blair pulled a granola bar out of her pocket, opened it, and started munching. “Morgan organized for the swords to be stolen and sent his man Kazan to do the job.”

“Kazan took the swords, instigating a massacre to hide the deed.”

Blair nodded. “Then he went to the Waldorf Astoria, I assume to hand the swords over to Morgan, but something went wrong.”

“And now Kazan is on the loose with two cursed katanas.” MacKade’s tone vibrated with frustration.

“You going to tell me why you’re so pissed? Is it because I got straight to the point with Morgan?”

“No.” His hands flexed on the wheel.

“Because he taunted us and you can’t arrest his ass right now?”

“No. I didn’t enjoy watching that asshole drool all over you.”

She paused, the granola bar frozen in the air. She sucked in a quick breath and felt flickers of heat in places she wouldn’t admit to. She kept her tone light. “Can’t say I particularly enjoyed it, either.”

That earned her a grunt.

“You turning all possessive on me, MacKade?”

He shot her a hot look. “Looks that way.”

Blair fought not to shift in her seat. How could that make her both annoyed, nervous, and a little turned on?

It wasn’t long before MacKade pulled up in front of a small house in Whitney, in the eastern part of Las Vegas.

The house was nondescript, with a single garage, cracked driveway, and untended yard. No one answered their knock, and Blair peeked in the window. No one was inside the sparse living room.

MacKade knocked several more times, but no one came to the door. It didn’t take a detective badge to work out that the place was empty.

They walked around the back. MacKade went straight to the back door, lifted his boot, and kicked the door in.

She gasped. “Detective, I don’t think that’s by the book.”

“It’s you who’s always telling me that sometimes we have to step outside our comfort zone to get the job done. To save lives.”

She held up a hand. “Hang on, I need a moment to appreciate this.”

He cocked his head. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“So, the great Detective MacKade is finally listening to me?”

“Shut it, Mason.” He walked past her and entered the house.

She followed him in. They walked through the three-bedroom house. It had an air of disuse. She noted unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink, and empty beer bottles beside the couch.

“He’s not here,” she said.

Kazan had a guest room and a junk room-slash-office, neither of which were hiding the man, or any katanas. When they approached the master bedroom, Blair instantly spotted the shuriken embedded in the door. “MacKade.”

They both stared at it for a second. MacKade drew his Glock and they cautiously peered into the bedroom.

Blair sucked in a breath.

Japanese writing in red paint was scrawled everywhere on the wall behind the unmade, queen-size bed.

“Hell.” MacKade lowered his weapon. “You know any Japanese?”

“No.” Blair stared at the text. “But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t say ‘happy birthday’, or ‘I love you.’”

LUKE LED Blair back to his Explorer. The crime scene techs were still busy photographing the Japanese writing at Kazan’s place, and the shuriken had been taken into evidence.

He knew they wouldn’t find any fingerprints. Just like the one from Blair’s apartment.

He’d already made some calls, and they had a translator on standby. Blair had also sent pictures through to Brooks.

But Luke wasn’t seeing the Japanese symbols. Instead, he kept seeing Salvador Morgan slobbering all over Blair.

Shit. He should have his head in the game. He blew out a breath.

Blair slid into the seat beside him and fidgeted.

He knew what that meant. He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a candy bar he’s stashed there earlier. Lucky it was winter, or it would have been melted goo by now. He handed it over to her.

“MacKade, I think I love you.” She tore it open and bit in. Then she moaned.

He felt that throaty sound around his cock. Damn. He shifted in his seat and pulled away from the curb. The possessive feelings rattling around inside him were making him twitchy. When he dated a woman, he considered her his for the time they were together, but he’d never felt this all-consuming need to stake his claim on a woman.

Being around Blair was leaving him with a constant erection and heat in his gut. She was driving him crazy.

“I got another call while you were talking to the tech guys.” Focusing on their work was the best distraction. “Another dealer with a tip on the katanas.”

She turned to look at him, licking chocolate off her fingers. Luke fought back a groan.

“Do you think that means we’ll get attacked by a samurai again?” Her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t be disappointed if we did.”

So damn bloodthirsty. “We’ll keep an eye out this time, and hopefully avoid any sword-wielding maniacs.”

He pulled onto the interstate heading north. “I don’t think Morgan is leaving shurikens and Japanese writing around Las Vegas.”

“Nope. We have another player.”

Dammit. “Lachlan have anything?”

She shook her head. Then she leaned forward, staring out the side mirror. “We have company.”

Luke glanced in the rearview mirror. He saw five black motorcycles whizzing through the traffic, gaining on them. Another appeared. No, make that six. He cursed.

“Shit.” Blair turned in her seat. “I had three black bikes following me on the way to the station this morning. They disappeared, so I thought it was nothing.”

The bikes were gaining. “Hang on.”

Luke sped up and the Explorer shot forward. The traffic wasn’t too thick, but he didn’t want to risk innocent lives. His jaw locked.

The motorcycles broke into two lines of three and flanked their SUV. Luke looked out his side window and saw the lead rider pull a handgun.

“Fuck. Get down!”

Bullets thudded on metal. Luke slammed his foot down and swerved the vehicle. He clipped the bike and the rider almost fell. The bike dropped back.

“Lachlan.” Blair had her phone to her ear. “We need you guys. Now! We’re on the I-515 being pursued by attackers on motorcycles. Yep. Okay.” She shoved the phone away. “My team is on the way.”

Luke changed lanes, moving around a small truck. “People are going to get hurt.”

“We’ll try not to let that happen.” She was looking out her side window. A bike roared up beside them, the rider’s face obscured by a black helmet.

Suddenly, Blair opened her door, ramming it into the bike. With a screech of tires, the bike wobbled and the rider flew off.

She slammed the door closed and grinned. “One down, five to go.”

The other five bikes zoomed ahead of them. Luke saw them cut in front of a car.

Shit. The car swerved, slowed, then crashed into the concrete divider in the center of the road.

“Stay focused, MacKade. We’ll get them help, but we need to stop these bastards first.”

He gripped the wheel and watched Blair draw her SIG. “Blair—”

She opened her window. “Hold us steady.”

She climbed out the window, her entire upper body outside the car. Dammit, she was so damn fearless.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

He kept the Explorer steady as she fired on the bikes. He saw one motorcycle tip, sliding sideways across the road.

Ahead, he saw a silver minivan come into view. Oh, hell. “Blair!”

The bikes flanked the minivan, blocking the lanes. Luke slowed down. More bullets hit the Explorer, cracking the windshield.

“Blair!”

She ducked back inside. “Fuckers.”

All of a sudden, the minivan veered to the right, clipped a bike, then hit the concrete barricade. It flipped, rolled, then stopped on its roof.

“Shit,” Blair muttered.

Luke jerked on the brakes and the Explorer skidded to a stop. Luke pulled his Glock and Blair already had her door open, firing her weapon.

The bikes spun around, converging on Blair and Luke. Bullets hit in a barrage and Luke ducked down, saw Blair doing the same.

Shit, they were pinned and he couldn’t get to the minivan to check on whoever was inside.

Then he heard the roar of engines.

Blair turned her head, then grinned. “Perfect timing.”

Two black SUVs sped in from behind. They roared past them.

One SUV ran straight into one bike, sending the rider spinning into the air. The other SUV’s tires screeched as the driver executed a perfect one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.

Both vehicles stopped and the doors opened. Big bodies exited, all wearing black body armor and holding high-tech assault rifles.

Team 52 had arrived.

Gunfire exploded around them. Blair dived back through the Explorer, climbing out on Luke’s side. “My team can handle this.”

He nodded, grabbed her hand, and together they crouched and sprinted toward the overturned minivan.

As they approached, he heard a woman’s sobbing screams and a baby crying.

“Shit.” Blair rounded the vehicle.

Luke saw the woman in the driver’s seat, hanging upside down and held in place by her seatbelt. Her face was bleeding.

“Ma’am, I’m with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police. We’re going to get you out.”

“Thank God! My baby. She’s crying.”

“Blair,” Luke said.

Blair blinked, then crouched down. She tugged on the bent back door, yanking until the metal groaned and the door opened.

“Uh, baby looks okay. No injuries.”

“She’s…she’s scared,” the mother said.

“I’ll get her.” Blair met Luke’s gaze. “You get the mother out.”

Luke reached in, checking the woman over. “Anything hurt?”

She pulled in a shuddering breath. “Just the nicks on my face, from when the glass shattered.”

It took him some time, but soon he unclipped her belt and guided her out. Just as he helped her stand, he heard sirens. Several cruisers and an ambulance pulled up.

“Everyone okay?” Lachlan strode over, his rifle on his shoulder. Just beyond him, the rest of Team 52 was standing around the black-clad riders. Two were kneeling, but the rest were laid out flat, and probably no longer breathing.

“Yeah,” Luke answered.

Two paramedics rushed over to help the woman. After he’d handed her off, he turned, his gaze falling on Blair. He froze.

She was awkwardly holding a chubby little girl who looked just shy of about one. The baby was sucking her thumb and Blair had her up against her chest.

“Um, can we give her back to her mom?” Blair asked.

The little girl pressed her face to Blair’s neck, seemingly content where she was. Blair’s uncomfortable look turned panicked.

“Mother’s getting checked out.” Luke worked hard to keep his smile off his face.

“Then you take her.”

“She looks happy where she is.”

Lachlan coughed, but Luke was sure the man was trying not to laugh. Blair glared daggers at her boss.

“Someone take her,” Blair said.

Lachlan smiled. “You look cute with a baby in your arms, Blair.”

Taking pity on her, Luke moved closer. He stroked a finger down the girl’s plump cheek. “She’s fine. You’re doing great.”

“I know nothing about kids.”

“You comforted her. And Lachlan’s right, you guys look cute.”

Blair snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“You don’t want kids one day?”

She blinked. “I work for a covert, black-ops team and like kicking butt. I don’t have time to think about kids.” She looked down at the girl and her voice lowered. “They’re so fragile. They break so easily.”

Luke heard something in her voice. “Blair?”

She shook her head and shoved the girl at him. “Here. Get her back to her mom.”

He watched her another beat before he carried the girl back over to her mother. After a quick check in with the police on scene, he headed back to Team 52.

“Thanks for the help,” he said.

Lachlan nodded. “Any time.”

“You can’t even blame them for all the mess,” Blair said.

No. Luke had gotten a taste of exactly the kinds of situations the team faced.

“We’re going to get out of here.” Lachlan lifted a hand to the others and they headed back to their SUVs. “Keep me updated.”

“So.” Blair dusted off her jeans. “We still going to meet that dealer?”

“Yeah.” They walked back to his Explorer.

She eyed the side of it. “The bullet holes add a little something to the paint job.”

He scowled. It meant he had to fill out a bunch of paperwork. “Get in.”

“You got any more snacks?”

He settled in the driver’s seat. “You should be a lot bigger than you are.”

“I burn it off.”

He shook his head. “Let’s go, cupcake. I’ll get you a snack on the way.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Luke turned off the Strip and into Caesar’s Palace. He parked at the front entrance, flipping his LVMPD parking badge on the dash.

Blair looked at the casino, and the cluster of Christmas trees all coated in artificial snow at the entrance, and raised a brow.

“The dealer lives here,” Luke told her. “He plays here constantly. Does most of his sales from a blackjack table.”

They went inside. The opulent lobby had an ornate ceiling and a large, statue-topped fountain in the center of it. The place dripped in more Christmas decorations.

Luke headed for the entrance to the High Rollers area. They bypassed the busy casino area and, after he’d flashed his badge, a dealer led them back to the High Rollers room. It was even more gaudy than the other parts of the casino.

Luke spotted a lone man sitting at a table with a female dealer. “Remington.”

The man looked up. He was movie-star handsome, and looked like he could have stepped out of the pages of GQ. Blonde hair fell over his forehead and his blue polo shirt covered a lean chest.

Blair let out a low whistle that set Luke’s teeth on edge.

“MacKade. Good to see you.” The man’s bright-green eyes fell on Blair. “Looks like you traded up when it came to partners.”

“Careful, she bites.” Luke said.

“I might like that,” Remington drawled.

Blair smiled, showing lots of teeth. “Shame I don’t play with pretty boys.”

The art dealer grinned, but Luke kept his face blank, and when Remington looked back at him, the man coughed and straightened.

“Remington, Blair Mason. Blair, Remington.”

She arched a brow. “No last name?”

“No.” Another movie-star smile. “I like to be unique and mysterious.”

Luke snorted. “He was born Aaron Smithson and changed it when he started dealing in art.”

Remington’s smile dissolved. “Spoilsport. It’s a pleasure, Blair.”

“You called me about some Japanese swords,” Luke said.

“Right. I got wind that Salvador Morgan organized the theft of the swords you’ve been asking about from some casino exhibit.”

“We already know that,” Luke said.

Blair crossed her arms. “We visited his Playboy mansion this morning.”

Remington shook his head. “That man has no class, unlike me, sweet Blair.” He ran the edge of his cards on the table. “I could show you a good time.”

Luke felt his blood pressure spike. He was getting pretty damn fed up with men fawning over Blair. He gritted his teeth. He wanted to punch Remington in his perfect nose.

“And I could hurt you,” Blair said silkily.

“Ooh,” the man said.

“What else have you got?” Luke snapped.

“Something went wrong. Morgan was bragging about getting his hands on the swords, but his man went rogue.”

“Kazan?” Luke prompted.

“That’s him. Apparently, he stopped returning Morgan’s calls, and never checked in. Killed a bunch of Morgan’s security guards.”

Luke nodded. “We saw the scene.”

“He also never delivered the swords.”

Blair tapped her chin with a fingertip. “You think Kazan decided to cash in and sell the swords?”

“It doesn’t sound like him,” Remington mused. “Don’t know him well, but from my interactions with Kazan, he’s always been loyal to Morgan.”

Luke scribbled some notes, then snapped his notepad shut. “Thanks, Remington. You hear anything else, call me.”

The art dealer inclined his head, then looked at Blair. “Blair, if you’re looking for a good time, give me a call.”

She waved. “Don’t wait up.”

Blair and Luke strode out of the High Rollers room. They strode back down the carpeted hall, headed for the main casino. He felt Blair watching him.

“What’s got you all worked up now?” she asked. “You are incredibly moody, you know that? When you’re pissed, it throbs off you.”

He felt like she was waving a red flag in front of his face. He jerked to a stop and spun.

“Watching you flirt. It’s burned on my damn eyeballs.”

She put a hand on one hip. “I wasn’t flirting, Remington was. And besides, even if I was, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

Luke backed her into the wall, and she pressed her hands against his chest.

“Back off, MacKade.”

“I don’t think you want me to.” He certainly didn’t want to. He pinned her, his mouth hovering over hers. “Watching these men drool all over you, it pisses me off.”

She shoved. “MacKade.”

He held his ground. “Watching you talk, move, fight, eat, breathe…that turns me on.”

She stilled, her gaze locking with his.

He lowered his voice. “It’s driving me out of my mind.”

He knew he was being crazy and possessive. He was sure she was about to punch him in the head.

Then he saw it. The light of hunger in her eyes.

He slammed his mouth on hers.

She moaned, her tongue delving between his lips. Their tongues dueled and he wrapped his arms around her, pushing her firmly against the wall.

God, he could kiss her all day, all week. The slick slide of her tongue, the taste of her, the small sounds she made. She wrapped a long leg around his hip and his denim-covered cock hit between her thighs.

What the hell was he doing? He was kissing Blair Mason in the middle of a corridor in Caesar’s Palace. They were probably putting on a hell of a show for security.

Luke yanked himself back, fighting for some control. “We need to get back to the station.”

She stared at him. “MacKade—” Her hands smoothed over his shoulders. “Damn, you’re tense.” Her fingers kneaded.

“What are you doing?”

Her eyes met his. “Being nice to you. Just be quiet and accept it.”

He blew out a breath. “Blair Mason being nice to me. I’ll mark this date on my calendar.”

She poked her tongue out, then her face turned serious. “I have no interest in smarmy rich guys or pretty-boy art dealers.”

Luke stilled. “What do you have an interest in?”

“Well, I like hard bodies.” Her fingers dug deeper into his shoulders. “And a guy who can take care of himself. And it appears, I have an interest in annoying police detectives.”

He brushed his lips against hers. “I wish we didn’t need to get back to headquarters right now.”

She patted his shoulder and stepped back. “But duty calls.”

BLAIR WASN’T afraid to admit to herself that she was pretty damn confused right now.

And all these confused, messed-up feelings revolved around the man walking beside her.

They marched into police headquarters, and Blair battled the urge to grab him and drag him into a dark corner.

How dare he kiss the hell out of her and leave her all worked up? Right now, she was fighting the urge to tear his clothes off. Desire was a traitorous curl in her belly. She wanted to see all the bronze skin she knew was hiding under the denim and the shirt. Her gaze fell to where he’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, uncovering the sexiest forearms she’d ever seen.

Damn, the man was scrambling her brain.

She licked her lips and almost moaned. She could still taste him—coffee and mint. She could still feel the heat of his big body pressed up against hers.

He was tall and strong, and she knew he could match her. Her pulse spiked and she licked her lips again. She liked far too many things about Detective Luke MacKade.

As soon as they reached the Homicide Section, MacKade glanced her way. “I need to update my lieutenant.”

She nodded.

“Stay out of trouble.”

She tilted her head. “I’m in a police station.”

“Don’t break anyone’s nose or arm, or get into a shoot-out.” Without saying anything else, he strode away on those long legs.

Blair rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Mostly so she didn’t watch his denim-cupped ass as he walked away.

God, she needed something to eat.

She walked toward MacKade’s desk. She should just bang him and get him out of her system. With every other guy she’d felt an interest in, it faded pretty fast after a few sweaty nights.

But the niggle in her gut warned her that she was playing with fire when it came to MacKade.

Trying to find other ways to distract herself, she pulled her phone out to check in with Lachlan. She sent off a quick message, and got a typical, brusque Lachlan reply. No updates.

She plopped down on MacKade’s chair and took a second to adjust it to suit her, thereby screwing up all his settings. Petty, but it made her feel better. Next, she rifled through his drawers. She didn’t find a single candy bar or anything else edible.

She looked over and saw Baxter sitting at the neighboring desk. He was smiling at her.

“He hates when people mess with his chair,” Baxter said.

Blair smiled. “Good.”

The detective nodded. “He needs someone who pushes his buttons and doesn’t let him get his own way.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that.

“He usually dates these nice women who all smile and nod at him.”

Blair scowled. She didn’t want to imagine some nice, boring woman in floral blouses and pearls, fluttering her eyelashes at MacKade. “We aren’t dating, Baxter.”

Baxter made an unconvinced sound.

Her gaze snagged on the muffin sitting on the corner of Baxter’s desk. “I need that muffin.”

He frowned at her. “The way you eat, you should weigh more.”

“Good metabolism.”

The detective grabbed the muffin and broke it in half. He handed her a piece, and they both sat there nibbling.

“I take it you didn’t find any leads on the swords?” he asked.

She shook her head. “We did get chased by a bike gang.” She gave him a quick recap.

“We’ll find ’em. Worked with Luke a long time, and he’s like a Rottweiler with a bone on a case. Big or small, he gives every case his all. I think it’s because of his mom.”

Blair paused. “His mom?”

Baxter nodded. “She was killed when he was a teenager.”

The muffin felt like it turned to rock in her belly. God. “That’s rough.”

She knew exactly what happened when you lost a part of your family. It crumbled.

“She was murdered,” Baxter continued.

Jesus. Luke had lost his mom in the most horrible way possible.

“His dad was a cop and it had something to do with a case he was working. Luke’s the oldest, and he stepped up to help his dad with his younger siblings.”

Responsible, protective Luke MacKade. Blair rubbed the ache in her chest.

Just then, they heard a commotion out in the hall. Sharing a curious glance, she and Baxter rose together, walking out of Homicide.

A group of people were clustered near the stairwell.

“What’s going on?” Baxter asked.

“Something’s happening down in the lobby,” one woman said.

Frowning, Blair took the stairs. Baxter followed, huffing a bit by the time they reached the bottom.

As they entered the lobby, with its sea of waiting chairs, she saw lots of frightened faces. She turned and spotted a man striding through the rows of chairs, holding a katana.

Fuck.

All around, cops drew their weapons. Beside her, Baxter also pulled out his handgun.

“Drop the weapon,” a cop yelled out.

The man raised the sword above his head.

Blair sucked in a breath. That looked like a no.

Then the man spun.

Like a whirlwind, he tore toward several uniforms. He cut one down, the man screaming as his blood spurted from a slice across his belly. Screams filled the lobby. Blair’s heart pounded in her ears. There were too many people in the room. Cops, innocent civilians, handcuffed perps waiting to be processed.

The cops opened fire. The noise in the enclosed space was deafening.

Blair braced, watching the man with the sword. His body jerked under the impact of the bullets, but they didn’t stop him.

He had a Muramasa blade.

He didn’t drop the sword and he didn’t slow down.

“Cease fire,” she yelled.

Baxter looked at her for a beat, then bellowed with her. “Cease fire.”

The man raced across the lobby, cutting into several women who were clearly still wearing their sexy, little dresses from the night before. Screams reverberated off the walls.

Blair rushed forward. “Hey, you!”

The man’s head lifted. His eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted.

Several cops moved forward, and she held up a hand. “Stop.” She lowered her voice. “Baxter, make sure I don’t get shot.”

Blair leaped over a row of plastic chairs. She charged the man, jumping and aiming a kick at the attacker’s head.

She connected with his jaw and his head snapped back.

She landed, bending into a crouch. He moved fast, slashing with that sword. It cut through the air in a blur. She ducked, and then when he rushed her, she leaped backward, dodging that deadly blade.

Baxter rushed forward, gun aimed. “Drop the sword!”

“Baxter, stay back!” Blair raced in from the side. She landed a hard kick to the man’s lower back. He staggered forward, recovered quickly, and slashed out with the sword.

But he didn’t come at Blair.

He lunged at Baxter.

The sword ran straight through Baxter’s gut.

Everything stopped. Blair felt like she was moving in slow motion, the sound in the room turning into a loud drone.

No.

Blood trickled out of Baxter’s mouth. He clutched his bleeding belly.

Baxter. Who had a sweet, lopsided smile, and who had shared his muffin with her.

The attacker yanked the katana back and Baxter collapsed like a puppet who’d had its strings cut.

“No!” Blair swiveled, her hands clenching into fists. With a roar, she rushed at the man.

THE LIEUTENANT LOOKED at Luke unhappily. “You need to speed up the search, Luke.”

“I know it doesn’t look like we’ve got much, but we’re working on it.”

“And Mason’s helping you?”

He nodded. “We’re sharing intel and working together.”

Luke decided to avoid telling his lieutenant the part where he’d had his tongue down Blair’s throat about thirty minutes earlier.

Suddenly, they heard distant screams. They both leaped to their feet.

Luke shouldered out of the doorway, racing towards the stairwell. The lieutenant was still in good shape and he kept pace with Luke. Their boots thundered as they raced down the stairs, running into several others.

They burst out into the lobby. His gut tightened. Blair was fighting a man dressed in black and wielding a katana. Shit.

Luke instantly went for his weapon. His hands clenched on the Glock, aiming it.

As he moved closer, past huddled groups of frightened people and the rows of chairs, he heard a pained groan.

He circled some chairs and his heart rammed hard against his ribs. Fuck. Baxter was on his knees on the ground, hands pressed to his gut, bleeding profusely.

No. “Lieutenant.”

The lieutenant nodded, his face turning to stone. He hunched over and ran toward the wounded detective. The lieutenant gripped the man under his armpits and pulled him away from the fight.

“I need help, here! Everyone else, get back!” the lieutenant shouted, startling some bystanders who had been frozen with shock. “All of you! Move!”

Luke turned his attention back to Blair. She was relentlessly kicking, hitting, and dodging the deadly whirl of the blade.

Then he saw the attacker drive her backward. Her hip caught the edge of a row of chairs, and she stumbled. The blade cut across her shoulder.

She cursed and blood bloomed on her shirt.

Hell, no. Possessive rage rolled up inside Luke. He wasn’t going to let this bastard hurt her.

But he could see the man was already riddled with bullets and, like Byron Fuller, it hadn’t slowed him down. Luke saw a uniform standing nearby, watching with terror in his eyes. Luke strode to him and yanked the man’s baton off his belt.

“Hey—”

Ignoring him, Luke strode toward the fight.

Blair saw him. “MacKade, stay back!”

The attacker rushed at her, the sword a blurry streak. She moved to evade, and Luke darted in. He slammed the baton hard against the man’s arm.

The attacker whirled, his bloodshot gaze falling on Luke.

“Can’t…fight it,” the man rasped.

Then the man came at Luke like a dervish. Fuck. Luke skirted some chairs moving backward.

“Blood,” the man said. “I didn’t realize. Tried to stop…but it wants blood.”

Blair leaped onto a row of chairs, running along them. She gained speed and leaped, sailing through the air.

Shit, she was going to get herself skewered on that damn sword.

She jumped onto the attacker’s back, clamping onto him. The man jolted, and then she hammered her fist into his arm. He dropped the sword.

But then the man reached back, grabbed a fistful of Blair’s shirt, and yanked her over his head. She flew through the air and Luke darted forward. He caught her against his chest and they both went down, skidding across the floor.

“Blood!”

The word reverberated through the lobby. They both swiveled and watched the man snatch up the katana again.

But this time, he held the sword low, with the blade pointed straight up. With a bloodcurdling cry, the man fell forward, the sword spearing through his gut.

CHAPTER NINE

Blair leaned against the wall in the hospital waiting room. She hated hospitals. She hated the sharp stench of antiseptic, and the faint air of desperate hope and despair.

They were awaiting news on Baxter. The detective had been taken into surgery, his wound critical.

There were cops packed into the waiting room—some in khaki uniforms, and others in plainclothes. A sobbing, older woman she now knew was Baxter’s wife, sat flanked by the lieutenant and her teenage kids.

They’d already all been rocked by the loss of the SWAT team. No one wanted to lose another police officer.

Luke was pacing nearby, his hair mussed from running his hands through it, and his face set like stone. He’d been wearing a groove in the linoleum for the last hour.

After they’d arrived, he’d bullied her into getting her shoulder treated. She was now the proud owner of ten more stitches. She’d tried to get them just to bandage it, but Luke had threatened to hold her down. The three in her bicep hadn’t bothered her, but these new ones throbbed. Thankfully, the nurse had given her some painkillers, and although she’d never admit it, she’d held Luke’s hand while they’d done the stitching.

The cursed katana was back at police headquarters, wrapped in a blanket and under guard.

The man with the sword had come to police headquarters to make a scene and cause a mess. Maybe make the police look incompetent? Who the hell was he? Shit, they just had so many pieces that didn’t fit together.

She watched Luke do a few more laps of the waiting room. Damn, she couldn’t handle it anymore. She couldn’t handle the despair she saw lurking in his eyes.

She walked over to him. Sensing her, he stopped, watching her come, his arms hanging at his sides. She moved straight to his chest, pressing her face against hard pecs. His scent enveloped her, and she wrapped her arms around him.

For a second, he didn’t move, then his arms clamped around her.

“You’re staying with me, at my place,” he said. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

She felt his big body vibrate. “Luke—”

“I need this. Please.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

His fingers flexed on her, and he buried his face in her hair. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that, waiting, just holding each other for support. It wasn’t often that she had to provide someone with comfort, and it felt somehow…right.

A door opened nearby, and Luke lifted his head. They both turned and saw an older doctor in scrubs enter the room. “I understand you’re all here for Detective Baxter?”

Baxter’s wife rose shakily. “How…how is he?”

“Surgery was successful. We won’t know more until tomorrow, but so far, things are looking promising.”

The air shuddered out of Luke, and Blair held him tighter. Baxter’s wife lifted her hands to her face and burst into tears. Her kids leaned into her. All around, cops broke out in relieved smiles, some clapping each other on the back.

But Blair read between the lines of what the doctor had said. Baxter wasn’t out of danger yet. She wasn’t entirely certain that they expected him to survive the night.

Her phone rang and, murmuring an apology to Luke, she pulled it out. “It’s Lachlan.”

Luke nodded and she turned away. “Hey.”

“Update?” Lachlan asked.

“Detective Baxter made it through surgery.”

“You know who the attacker is yet?”

“No. It wasn’t Kazan, though.”

“Okay. I need you to come to base. Ty’s got something.”

She closed her eyes. “Okay.”

“And bring the sword.”

“Will do.” Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her. She looked up into MacKade’s stony face. “Lachlan wants me at base.”

“I’m coming,” Luke said.

She stared at him for a beat, then spoke into the phone. “MacKade’s coming with me.”

“Acknowledged,” Lachlan replied. “See you when you get here.”

They made the drive to police headquarters in silence. They retrieved the katana, placing it in the back of Luke’s Explorer. From there, it was a quick drive to the Bunker. Luke was quiet the entire way.

Kinsey was waiting for them. Her smile was missing. “I’m sorry to hear about your detective.”

Luke just nodded. He held the wrapped katana in his hands like it was a bomb. “He made it through surgery, and he’s tough.”

“The X8 fueled?” Blair asked.

The blonde nodded. “All ready for you.” She patted Blair’s arm. “Have a good flight.”

Blair pushed through the door to the hangar that sat adjacent to the Bunker. MacKade followed her, and she heard his steps slow.

“Shit,” he muttered. “What the hell is that?”

She led him over to the jet-copter. Its gray exterior gleamed dully in the lights. “An experimental, jet-powered helicopter. It’s called the X8. Better range than a helicopter and the speed of a plane.”

He ducked his head as they climbed aboard the aircraft.

“Where’s the pilot?” he asked.

“That would be me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You fly?”

She nodded. “Seth and I are the team’s pilots. I love flying this baby.”

But instead of moving to the cockpit, she moved to the back of the X8. She opened a sturdy, black-metal case, locked into place on the floor.

“Containment box,” she said.

He carefully set the wrapped sword inside, and Blair locked it securely.

Then she led him to the cockpit. She slid into the pilot seat, and MacKade moved into the seat beside her, adjusting it for his long legs.

Blair settled a headset over her head, and ran through the pre-start checks. She checked in with air traffic control. Soon, they rolled out of the hangar, then lifted off straight up, like a helicopter. It wasn’t long before they were soaring out over the desert.

“It’s only a short ride to base,” she told him.

Clearly lost in thought, MacKade nodded and looked out the window. She knew he was thinking of his injured friend.

Blair understood. She’d lost her closest girlfriend in a training exercise, soon after joining the Marines. Beth had been a badass, with a wicked sense of humor. Blair had also watched a lot of good Marines die in battle. Some she’d watched die right before her eyes. She lifted a hand, rubbing the corner of her prosthetic eye. She’d even watched Lachlan nearly bleed out on a mission gone so fucking wrong.

She remembered the searing pain of shrapnel in her eye, trying to staunch the blood flow from his mangled arm. She’d dragged him to the evac point by sheer will alone.

Suddenly, Area 52’s air traffic controller’s voice came through her headset. She shook her head. They had arrived.

She descended, and soon they swept in to land in front of a large hangar.

“Welcome to Area 52.”

MacKade stared out the window. Curiosity had softened some of the tense lines on his face. “I finally get to see your Batcave.”

She laughed and rose. After opening the X8’s side door, she grabbed one end of the containment box, and he grabbed the other.

She led him into the hangar, nodding at the black-clad guards mixed in with Air Force personnel. They maneuvered the containment box into a large elevator covered in matte-black metal and she stabbed a button on the panel. They zoomed downward. A long way downward.

She watched MacKade absorbing it all.

Then the doors opened. “Welcome to our home away from home.”

She led him inside and they set the box down. “Ty will grab that.” She pointed to a nearby set of floor-to-ceiling, reinforced, sliding doors. “That’s our storage facility for all the artifacts that are too dangerous to be left unsecured.”

The doors to the facility were open, and when he looked inside, he sucked in a breath. “That’s all dangerous artifacts?”

“Yep.” She knew he was staring at the rows and rows of shelving covered in black containers like the one they were carrying.

She led him in the opposite direction—toward the main work area for the team.

Lachlan was walking down the corridor, flanked by Callie and Natalie. Lachlan waved two fingers at her.

“Blair.” Callie moved to gently hug her, her gaze going to her bandaged shoulder.

“I’m fine. Only ten stitches.”

“Plus your original three,” MacKade said.

She sighed. “Fine, thirteen stitches.”

Nat pressed a hand to her other arm. “I know you hate stitches.”

“Can we quit talking about them?”

Nat smiled. “Glad you’re okay. We’ve been missing you.” The archeologist eyed MacKade with frank speculation.

“MacKade, this is Dr. Natalie Blackwell, Team 52’s archeologist.”

“Nice to meet you,” MacKade said.

“Likewise. Always interested to meet someone who drives Blair crazy.”

Blair groaned. “Ignore her. She’s Australian.”

“Hey.” Nat slapped Blair’s uninjured right shoulder.

Then Blair spotted movement down the hall. She turned to watch the big boss striding toward them. She sensed MacKade stiffen slightly.

Director Jonah Grayson was very easy on the eyes. He was tall and lean, with black hair and emerald-green eyes. He clearly had some Native American heritage and it showed in his bronze skin and high cheekbones. Blair had never seen a man wear a suit as well as he did.

“Detective MacKade, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person.” Jonah offered MacKade a hand. “We appreciate all the work you do for us and the team.”

MacKade nodded, shooting Blair a glance. She pulled a face.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure, Director Grayson,” MacKade said, “but I’d be lying.”

Jonah smiled, his white teeth bright against his burnished skin. “Well, we appreciate it, nonetheless.”

MacKade looked at Blair again. “That said, I’m beginning to see the importance of the job your team does.”

Blair felt a burst of surprise and something else in her chest.

Jonah inclined his head. “I’m happy to hear that.” The director’s green gaze fell on Blair. “Now, Ty is waiting for you.”

LUKE FOLLOWED BLAIR, Lachlan, and the other women as they led him down another corridor. He took note of the high-tech lighting system. Even though they were deep underground with no windows, the lighting mimicked natural light.

He glanced through several plate-glass windows at labs and offices. The place was impressive.

He still couldn’t believe the huge storage area he’d seen, and all the boxes stacked inside. A part of him hadn’t appreciated just how important Team 52’s job was.

But these last few days, seeing the damage that the cursed katanas had done—up close and personal—was hammering that fact home.

He looked at the back of Blair’s head, her blonde ponytail swinging. She risked her life to do her job. And she did it without hesitation.

Suddenly, a door opened and an older man with a stocky body covered in black fatigues, hair cut military short, and faded blue eyes stepped out. Those eyes zeroed in on Luke and he felt the faint need to reach for his weapon.

“Hey, Arlo,” Blair said.

The man made a harrumphing sound. “Heard you had to get stitches.”

Blair rolled her eyes. “Shit, can we stop talking about stitches.”

“How many?” he snapped.

“Ten,” she snapped back.

“Thirteen,” Luke corrected.

That grizzled face swung his way again. “You the cop putting her in the line of fire?”

Blair shoved her hands on her hips, looking peeved. “Arlo, this is Detective Luke MacKade. Luke, Arlo Green. He takes care of the warehouse and is often a pain in the ass.”

Luke nodded. “I’m the cop who’s watching Blair’s back while she beats up bad guys.”

Arlo snorted. “Girl does like beating people up.”

Blair rolled her eyes. Nat laughed behind her hand and Callie was grinning.

“She’s broken a nose, two arms, and taken down some sword-wielding maniacs in the last few days,” Luke said.

“Good.” Arlo gave a nod. “No more stitches, Mason.” He swiveled on his boots and stomped off.

“Arlo is…” Blair pondered for a second.

“Leather on the outside and a big softie underneath,” Nat finished.

Callie snorted.

“I don’t know him,” Luke said, “but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to let him hear you say that.”

The women laughed, and shaking her head, Blair shouldered through a door. Luke stepped inside a lab.

“Ty, I bet you’ve been missing me,” Blair called out.

The huge, African-American man working at the bench didn’t even look up. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve been nicked by a damn sword twice.”

“Unless you can’t walk, or your guts are falling out, I don’t need to know about it.”

The man turned then, a scowl on his face, and stroked his goatee. Despite his grumpy words, he did a sweep of Blair’s body. There was nothing sexual about it, and Luke swore he saw a quick flash of relief.

Blair made introductions, and Luke shook the scientist’s hand. Then the rest of Team 52 arrived. Luke saw Seth, Axel, and Smith file in and line up against the wall.

As Ty stepped forward, everyone focused on the scientist.

“I’ve determined how the sword functions, and how it affects the user.”

Luke straightened.

“Nanotechnology,” Ty said.

Luke blinked. What the hell? “The swords are over five hundred years old. How could nanotechnology have anything to do with this?”

Ty held up a hand. “Just because earlier civilizations didn’t actually understand the microscopic science of nanotechnology, didn’t mean our ancestors still didn’t know enough to utilize it to change the properties of certain things.” He swiveled to a screen and an old, ornate cup appeared on it. It was a reddish color, and Luke thought it looked Greek or Roman.

“This is the Lycurgus Cup,” Ty said.

Nat shifted. “It’s a 14th-century Roman glass cage cup. It’s made of glass, and parts of it have been cut back into designs depicting the mythical king Lycurgus.”

Another picture appeared and Luke frowned. “The glass is a different color.” It now looked green.

Ty nodded. “The glass changes color depending on the light shining on it. The glass was created with nanoparticles of gold and silver in it. Perhaps it was an accidental discovery, but the glassmakers, either willingly or by chance, used nanotechnology to create the effect.”

Another picture appeared. It showed a close-up picture of a sword blade. It had a distinctive pattern on the steel that looked like water.

“Damascus steel,” Nat said.

Ty nodded. “Nat gets an A in this class. From about the 3rd century, bladesmiths in Damascus started forging Damascus steel. The blades were strong, resistant to shattering, and sharp. No one had seen swords like them at the time.”

“And nanotechnology was responsible?” Luke asked.

A nod. “They imported wootz steel ingots from India to forge the Damascus steel. We still don’t know exactly how wootz was made, but about ten years back, a research team discovered nanowires and carbon nanotubes in Damascus steel.”

Everyone in the room shared some looks.

Ty huffed out a breath. “Nanostructures in the steel that would account for the steel’s exceptional qualities.” He paused. “The same thing applies for the Muramasa swords. Muramasa added something when he created the steel that he forged his blades from. Or more exactly, he added something to the steel beneath the hilt. I can’t identify the exact substances, but it is certainly a nanomaterial. Nanotoxicity and nanomedicine are huge research areas. From what I can deduce, the nanomaterial in Muramasa’s swords is absorbed through the skin at the hilt, but nanoparticles have strange and unique toxicity effects, unlike what we see in larger particles. They most certainly translocate from the site of absorption to the brain.”

“English, Ty,” Lachlan growled.

“The nanopoison travels from the skin to the brain. It causes increased strength and disrupts brain function, causing rage. It essentially causes a stress response in the body which brings on hysterical strength.”

“Hysterical strength,” Blair said. “That’s like when you hear about people lifting cars off injured people.”

Ty nodded. “Displays of superhuman strength.”

“Life or death situations cause adrenaline to flood the body,” Luke said.

“That’s part of it,” Ty said. “Adrenaline does prime the body. It increases heart rate, speeds up the lungs, dilates blood vessels. But research shows it is more than that. When your body is under stress, it releases other nutrients, enzymes and proteins. Endorphins suppress pain and help you focus on the situation.”

“So the nanopoison in the sword does all of that to the user,” Callie murmured.

Ty nodded again. “There’s a mental component as well. Humans are capable of a lot more than we believe, strength-wise. Most people never push themselves—doubt, fear, and pain take over. The material in the sword switches off some brain function, doesn’t let emotion or pain have any effect.”

Luke stared at the screen, trying to absorb it all. “The man with the sword at headquarters, he said he couldn’t fight it. Why couldn’t he drop the sword and get away from its influence?”

“Excellent question, Detective.” Ty crossed his arms. “I’m still working on it, but it looks like the nanopoison also affects the muscles in the hand. It causes muscle spasms, a tetanic contraction, that causes the hand to clench onto the sword.”

“Tetanic contraction,” Blair murmured. “Like tetanus.”

“That’s right. Tetanus is a bacterial infection that causes muscles spasms. Especially in the neck and jaw, causing lockjaw. With the sword, we get a similar clenching, but in the hand.”

“How the fuck did Muramasa achieve this?” Lachlan said. “Where did this knowledge come from? It can’t be trial and error.”

Nat stepped forward. “I’ve been doing some research. I suspect the knowledge came from an earlier culture that lived in Japan. Did you know that in the same exhibition as the cursed katanas, there were several fascinating scrolls on display? One is called the Sword Scroll. It documents knowledge of samurai practices for creating blinding powders and concoctions to knock opponents unconscious. Some of this advanced knowledge would have been trial and error, and experimentation. But some of it likely came from an earlier, advanced civilization.”

Luke frowned. “Earlier civilization? Who? Who the hell was in Japan earlier?”

“There is evidence that there was an advanced civilization,” Nat said. “You’ve heard of the Yonaguni Monument?” Images flashed up on the screen, depicting large stonework shapes submerged under the ocean.

Luke sucked in a breath. He had vague recollections of seeing something about this underwater monument before. “I’ve heard of this. Off the coast of Japan. Some people believe it’s natural.”

Nat tilted her head. “It isn’t. The submerged ruins date to about 10,000 years ago. It doesn’t take much to deduce that the people who had the skills to build a city like this, also probably had the knowledge to come up with whatever Muramasa used to create his swords.”

“Hell.” Luke pressed his hands to a bench, dropping his head. This was hard to take in. Part of him would have preferred a curse.

“It’s imperative you do not touch the swords,” Ty said.

Blair snorted. “We already got that.”

“What about being cut by one?” Luke’s gaze dropped to Blair’s bandaged shoulder.

Ty shook his head. “The nanopoison is concentrated at the hilt. If you touch one of the katanas for a short period of time, you will return to normal after the nanomaterial leaves your system. But prolonged exposure is irreversible.”

Luke listened as Blair peppered Ty with more questions. Watching her with the team, he saw just how amazingly competent she was. How damn good she was at her job.

“Anything else?” Blair asked.

Ty shook his head. “Just find this last sword, so we can lock the damn thing up.”

Blair looked at Luke. “Time to go.”

He nodded. He was eager to get back to Vegas and back on the trail of the sword. Who was the man who’d brought the sword to headquarters and where was Kazan?

They said their goodbyes and soon were stepping back into the elevator. The doors slid closed.

“Remember, when we get back to Las Vegas you’re staying at my place.” The thought of these bastards coming after her, and him not being there… Luke couldn’t handle that.

She eyed him for a second, then she nodded. “You do have a pool, after all.”

CHAPTER TEN

Blair tossed and turned in the sheets on Luke’s guest bed. She sat up and huffed out a breath. It was official. She couldn’t sleep.

Deciding not to just lie there staring at the dark ceiling, she got up. In her sleep shorts and tank, she padded out into the shadowed living room. Then she stopped.

She wasn’t alone.

Turning her head, she made out the large outline of the man sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room.

She knew it was Luke. It was like she had a damn radar, attuned just to him.

He sat back, and she saw he was cradling a glass of something. Ice tinkled against the glass.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” His voice was gruff. “The lieutenant called. Baxter still hasn’t woken up.”

“He’s tough.” She wandered closer.

“He’s got a wife. Kids.”

She heard the pain, the guilt. He was suffering, and again she felt the strange urge to soothe him. Not knowing what to do, Blair followed her gut. She moved closer, her bare feet almost silent on the wooden floor.

When she reached him, his arms snaked out, wrapping around her middle. He pulled her close and pressed his face to her belly. She let out a breath and slid her hands into his hair.

“He’ll be okay,” she whispered.

“But others won’t. Not while the last sword is still out there.”

“We’ll find it. It’s what we do. We protect our city, its people.”

“You protect the whole damn world, and I’ve given you nothing but hell for it.”

She stroked the silky strands of his hair between her fingers. “Well, I won’t argue that we can get messy. I know it makes your job harder.”

“Seeing your base, the storage area…I know what you do is important.” His hand moved, touching her bare leg just below the hem of her shorts.

His fingers moved in circles on her skin. She shivered, sensations skittering through her. She was used to heat and fire, but this small, simple, sexy move undid her more than a brazen caress.

She saw that he was still wearing his jeans, but his feet were bare, his white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a delicious sliver of bronze skin, and his sleeves were rolled up. She licked her lips. Damn those sexy forearms.

His hand moved upward, skating over her pajamas until he reached the bottom of her tank. His hand moved under it, moving over her belly. She shivered again.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured.

“No.”

“This has nothing to do with wiping away a shitty day or drowning my sorrows.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I know.”

“I’m not sure you do.” His hand moved higher and cupped one of her naked breasts. He trapped her nipple between his fingers and tugged on it.

She let out a shuddering breath. “Luke.”

He yanked her into his lap. Blair couldn’t stop herself from wrapping her arms around him. She straddled him, feeling his hard erection pressed between her legs.

He angled his head and took her mouth.

The kiss was deep, hot, and edgy. He drank from her mouth like a man dying of thirst.

His hot lips moved down her neck. “I hated seeing you face off with that attacker today. I saw Baxter bleeding, I kept picturing you being next.”

“You know I can protect myself. How many times do I have to remind you of that?”

“I know. But you’re too damn brave.”

She felt the emotion throbbing off him, and it ignited a storm of confusing feelings inside her. She wanted this to be easy, to keep him from getting too close. They could have hot, sweaty sex without tangling everything else up.

This man made her feel too much. As his hands stroked her, she pulled in a big breath. The more people you let in, the larger the risk that you would lose them. She’d lost so many people.

Luke’s hands traveled up her back and she felt panic tightening her chest. He was too close. He was burrowing under her damn skin.

She wrenched back, scrambling off his lap. “I can’t do this.”

He stared at her. “Blair—”

“We can fuck. But stop trying to get to me.”

He frowned. “When I sink my cock inside you, it isn’t going to be just fucking, Blair.”

The growl of his voice worked its way down her spine. She shook her head. “No.”

“Not so fearless after all.”

His words cut at her insides. She prided herself on not being afraid.

Luke rose. “I know you want me. Are you really too afraid to face this thing between us?”

She lifted her chin. “I told you, we can drop down right here and fuck, Luke.”

He leaned closer, his warm breath puffing over her cheek. “I know. But I want more. I want all of you.”

Blair felt her mouth go dry. What would it be like to hand over everything she had to this man?

A big fucking risk. To give someone the power to gut you.

She just stood there, staring at him. She couldn’t make herself cross the invisible line he’d drawn.

When she didn’t say anything, his face tightened. He shook his head. “Fine. Be afraid, Blair.”

When he turned and stormed out of the room, she squeezed her eyes closed.

LUKE STRODE INTO HIS BEDROOM, need throbbing through his body. His limbs felt heavy, his skin hot, and his cock swollen.

Need for Blair roared through him. He could smell her on his skin and still felt her touch. He could see her long, toned legs in those tiny shorts. Feel the warm weight of her breast in his hand.

He groaned. He wanted nothing more than to sink himself inside her so damn deep she’d know she belonged to him.

But if he pushed her too hard, he knew he’d lose her. Dammit, desire was burning him from the inside out. He tore his jeans open, freeing his hard cock.

He gripped it, stroking it with brutal pumps.

He groaned. In his head he felt Blair, saw her, tasted her. Even now, he could smell her. Desire clamped down on his spine and her name was torn from his lips. “Blair.”

Then he heard a noise.

His head whipped toward the bedroom door. She stood there, staring at him.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

Her gaze was glued to his cock. He stroked himself again and she didn’t look away. She bit down on her lip.

“Either leave or get over here.” His voice was a growl.

She made a sound—hungry and desperate. A few humming seconds passed, then she walked across his room toward him.

Luke stroked his cock again and her gaze stayed locked on it. When she was close enough, she reached out, her hands closing around his. He hissed out a breath. It was both heaven and hell. They stroked him together, and he felt the muscles in his neck strain.

Damn. It felt good. So damn good.

“I want to be inside you,” he growled.

She squeezed him, her breathing fast and heavy. “Luke.”

“But you aren’t ready for that.”

She looked at him in the darkness. “What?”

He pressed his mouth to her neck, scraping his teeth down her skin. “When I slide inside you, you won’t have a single damn doubt, Blair.”

Her eyes flashed. “You’re turning me down.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

When she blinked, he nudged her until she fell back on the bed. His bed.

It would be a lie to pretend he hadn’t imagined her here. It would be a lie to pretend he didn’t get a savage sense of satisfaction seeing her on his bed.

“Part your legs, Blair.”

“God, I knew you’d be bossy.”

Luke pumped his cock again. “And I knew you wouldn’t be easy.”

She parted her legs, her gaze on his face. There was nothing shy or hesitant about her. Her hand slipping down to her tiny shorts.

“Did you wear those fucking shorts to drive me wild?” he growled.

“You like them?” She let her hand sneak up under the wide legs of the shorts. He saw her stroke herself.

“I want to tear them off you. Are your panties soaked?”

“Yes.”

Luke made a hungry sound and he saw her lips tilt up. No, she wasn’t shy, but even in the dappled darkness, he saw the vulnerability in her eyes. She kept it well hidden, usually tucked away behind that tough shell of hers.

But for him, that shell was cracking. He had to convince her that he’d take care of what was beneath it.

Her fingers moved up and he watched as she stroked herself, her breath hitching.

He put one knee on the bed, still stroking his cock. She lifted her hand and he sucked her fingers into his mouth, lapping at the tangy taste of her.

She moaned and he flipped her over. He pulled her up onto her hands and knees, and yanked down her shorts and panties. She let out a husky cry. The curves of her gorgeous ass gleamed in the moonlight.

“MacKade.”

He kneaded one cheek. “Rub your clit, Blair.”

Her hand moved between her legs. Her head dropped back with a throaty cry. He watched her stroke herself and he moved closer, rubbing his throbbing cock against her ass.

She moaned, pushing back against him. They stayed like that, each of them stroking faster. They were drenched in the darkness, but locked together by their incendiary desire.

“You are so fucking hot, Blair.” As the head of his cock brushed her, he groaned.

“I’m…going to come,” she panted.

“Come. I want you to say my damn name when you do.” He pressed against her harder. “Not my surname, you stubborn, sexy thing.”

He watched her back arch and her mouth open. She stroked faster. Then her body stiffened, and she started shuddering.

So damn hot. Luke pumped himself harder, feeling his own release rising up. “Say it.”

“Luke!”

Then with a long, guttural groan, he started coming. His come hit her ass and he kept stroking, kept spilling over her skin. “Blair.”

Fuck. He’d never come that hard. He thrust a fist into the bed, arm straight, to keep himself from collapsing.

There was only the sound of their harsh breathing in the room. Once he was sure he was steady, Luke rose and headed to his bathroom. He wet a wash cloth and returned. She was lying facedown on his bed. He stroked her hip with one hand while he cleaned her off.

When she turned her head to look at him, he shook his head. “Don’t ruin it.”

She sucked in a breath and nodded. “I’d better get to my bed.”

“No.”

“MacKade—”

“I just came all over you, so you’ll damn well call me Luke.” He climbed onto the bed and yanked her close. He arranged it so his chest was pressed tight against her back. He nuzzled his face into her hair.

Blair was as stiff as a board.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t…snuggle.”

Luke looked at the ceiling and tried not to laugh. “Just go to sleep, Blair. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, and tomorrow, you can be your usual badass self.”

She huffed out a breath. “Fine.”

He wanted to stroke her and pull her closer, but he wasn’t sure that he could stop himself from grabbing her and not letting go. He kept his touch light. “Sleep well, cupcake.”

“Night.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Asheet was attempting to strangle her. Blair blinked her gritty eyes and rolled onto her back.

In the middle of the night, she’d untangled herself from MacKade and crept out of his bed. Shit. She tossed an arm over her face to block the sunlight pouring in the guestroom window. Her body was still throbbing with desire—hot and strong—and her skin felt tight and sensitive.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Ignore it.

Instantly, she thought about it. MacKade’s long, thick cock. Him coming all over her ass. Her own long, drawn-out orgasm, and the sounds she’d made as she’d come.

Shit.

She pushed out of the bed, straightening the straps of her tank. Her bandaged shoulder throbbed and she knew she’d need some painkillers. After a deep breath, she visited the bathroom, popped some pills, then headed out into the living room.

She came to a halt. MacKade was in the kitchen wearing only a pair of jeans. They were unbuttoned and he was shirtless. Of course, he looked freaking gorgeous.

All that sleek skin that she wanted to touch and bite. In the daylight, she noticed something that she’d missed earlier. There was a round, puckered bullet scar on his back.

He turned and spotted her. His lips quirked. “Morning. Sleep well after you snuck off?”

She forced her feet to move. “Not particularly.”

He raised a brow. “That makes two of us.”

She paused, leaning against his island. “Looks like you took a bullet at some stage.”

He nodded. “When I was a young, newly minted officer and didn’t move fast enough. Actually, I was cocky and thought the gangbanger would actually put the gun down when I asked him to.”

Blair laughed. “A criminal brandishing a weapon who didn’t listen to the cops. Funny.”

He moved suddenly, stalking toward her. She stiffened.

Luke stopped with just inches between their bodies. He cupped her cheek, then dropped his head and kissed her. She tried to pull back for about a microsecond… Hell. She leaned into him, her tongue sliding along his.

When he stepped back, her blood was pumping thickly. He studied her, then tugged on her hair.

Way to ignore him, Mason. Pretty sure he noticed your tongue down his throat.

“I made you some breakfast.” He nodded to a plate on the island.

Blair saw a bagel topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon. Nice. “I’m starving.”

“I’m surprised,” he said dryly.

She dove in. “Plan for the day?”

“I want to stop by the hospital and check on Baxter. Then I need to see about the translation of the Japanese script from Kazan’s house, and see if my team identified the man who attacked Baxter.”

She nodded. She was pretty keen to see what all the Japanese text was about as well. She felt like they had so many dangling leads, but none that were tying up and leading them anywhere solid. Somewhere that might lead them to the sword.

Luke’s doorbell rang. He lifted his head, his gaze narrowing.

They both reached for their weapons. Of course, Blair’s was in her room, but MacKade had his tucked into the back of his jeans. As they moved toward the door, Blair licked the last of the cream cheese off her fingers.

He glanced out the window and then straightened, closing his eyes. He tucked his gun away. “It’s my neighbor.”

Blair straightened her tank just as Luke opened the door.

A pretty woman stood on his doorstep with a neat swing of strawberry-blonde hair. She was holding a plate of what looked like freshly baked muffins.

“Oh.” Her gaze moved from Luke’s bare chest to Blair’s bare legs and back again. “Hi, Luke. I didn’t realize you had company.” The woman’s cheeks turned pink.

Blair hid her wince and battled back the conflicting emotions churning inside her. This woman was pretty. She looked nice, neat, normal. She’d never take down a grown man in a fight, wield a sword, or shoot a gun. She looked exactly like a woman who’d make a nice wife and keep a lovely home. And she clearly had a thing for her hot, sexy, detective neighbor.

Blair really couldn’t blame her.

God. A horrible thought rocketed through Blair. MacKade hadn’t been banging her, had he?

Blair forced a smile. “I’m Blair.” She leaned past Luke and held out a hand. “Those muffins smell great.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Blair eats like a lumberjack.”

She shot him a glare.

The woman pasted on a smile and shook Blair’s hand. She had soft, slender hands. “I’m Meredith. I live next door. Well, here you go.” She shoved the plate forward. “I made extra, and thought you might like some.” Her gaze moved over Luke’s chest again.

And suddenly, Blair didn’t like the woman quite as much as she had a second ago.

Luke took the plate. “Thanks, Meredith.”

“You’re welcome. Well, enjoy those.” She turned with a wave of her slim hand. “You have a good day.”

Blair closed the door, then snagged a muffin off the plate. She took a huge bite. No surprise, the muffin tasted great. “Little Susie Homemaker has a crush.”

Luke scowled at her and carried the plate to the kitchen. “She’s my neighbor. She’s nice.”

Blair moved closer, batting her eyelids. “Why Detective MacKade, how big and strong and handsome you are. Perfect husband material.”

He glared at her.

“Why don’t I bake you some muffins?” Blair said in a high-pitched voice. “If you want, I’ll clean your house, do your laundry, and lie naked in your bed.”

He moved fast, pressing into Blair. She found herself squeezed back into the counter, with his big, half-naked body pinning her against it. The kiss he laid on her was hot and heavy.

“You’ll bake for me one day,” he murmured.

She snorted. “In your dreams, MacKade.”

“I have plenty of dreams about you, Blair. And that hot moment in my bedroom last night, the one where you stroked yourself until you came and I spilled all over your sweet ass, that fueled more of them.”

Her chest hitched. She knew he’d make her relive those sexy moments. Desire pulsed straight between her legs.

“With you, I don’t need you to make me muffins or bake me a damn cake. Just seeing you glare at me is enough to turn me on.” He turned. “I’m going to get dressed. I want to stop at the hospital on the way to headquarters.”

Blair watched him walk away, desire coiling in her belly.

LUKE STRODE out of the hospital, trying not to think about Baxter unconscious in the bed upstairs. The detective had woken up in the night, but then slipped back into unconsciousness. Since then, there’d been no change.

Blair jogged beside him. “Hey, they’re feeling more confident about his condition. That’s good.”

Luke lifted his chin. Edgy, dark emotion was running through him. He wanted to find a reason to arrest Salvador Morgan, since he’d set all this in motion. He wanted Kazan so he could make the man pay.

He strode to his Explorer, determination fueling him. No more getting distracted by Blair’s sexy body. They had to find the sword. That had to be his priority.

She grabbed his arm and spun him around. He opened his mouth to blast her, but she reached up, her hand brushing his jaw.

The soft move made him pause.

“He’s going to make it.” No hesitation in her voice. “And we’re going to find the sword.”

The anger rushed out of him and he pulled in a shuddering breath. “Then let’s get to work.”

They’d just reached the Explorer, when Blair’s tablet pinged.

She pulled it out. “A video call from Nat.” Blair swiped the screen and leaned against the SUV. Luke moved in beside her.

The pretty archeologist’s face filled the screen. “Hi, guys. I wanted to tell you that I went through the Japanese text that you sent over.”

Luke’s pulse spiked.

“What have you got?” Blair asked.

“The text is the Bushido.”

“The what?” Luke asked.

“The way of the warriors. It was the code of conduct of the samurai. It outlined the codes of honor and ideals for the samurai to follow. It listed eight virtues: righteousness, heroic courage, compassion, respect, honesty, honor, duty and loyalty, and self-control.”

“I don’t know that these guys follow any of those,” Luke murmured.

“There’s a strange line at the end.” Nat frowned. “I haven’t managed to decipher it yet, but when I do, I’ll let you know.”

Blair frowned. “So we’re dealing with some samurai wannabes?”

“Something like that,” Nat said. “I know an expert on the samurai. Maybe talk to him and see if he knows about who these guys could be.”

“You got a name and address?” MacKade asked.

Nat nodded. “Sending it through to you now, Blair. Good luck.”

“I think it’s my turn to drive,” Blair said.

Luke snorted. “No way in hell. This is my car.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You know the guys on my team don’t care who drives. You don’t have to protect your alpha-male, macho image by always driving.”

“My car, I drive.”

She huffed out a breath. “Fine.”

It wasn’t long before he pulled up in front of a house that didn’t match any of the others on the typical Las Vegas suburban street. It looked like someone had taken a house from Tokyo and plonked it down in Vegas. It had clean, simple lines, with a dark tile roof.

Getting out of the car, Luke and Blair walked up a pretty, narrow pathway. The front door slid open, and a Japanese man with straight, black hair and dark eyes greeted them.

“My name is Takeshi.” He bowed his head. “Natalie told me that you were coming to visit me.”

“I’m Blair Mason, I work with Nat, and this is Detective Luke MacKade.”

“Please, take off your shoes and come in.”

Luke toed his boots off, and Blair did the same. Inside, the house was sparsely decorated with lots of wood and clean lines, and sliding doors. Luke heard the tinkle of a water feature and, as they rounded the corner into another room, he saw doors were open to a small courtyard featuring a koi pond. Bright fish were darting around in the water.

Takeshi waved them toward some pillows on the floor. They all sat.

“May I offer you something to drink?”

Luke shook his head. “We’re fine. Thank you.”

“How can I help you?”

“Nat said you’re an expert on the samurai,” Blair said.

The man nodded. “I lecture at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas.”

“Some swords were stolen from an exhibit recently. You may have heard of the Soul of Samurai Exhibit at the Spire Casino?”

Takeshi nodded. “I had planned to attend, but after the unfortunate attack, it has been closed.”

“The massacre that occurred, it happened with swords from the exhibit. Swords made by Sengo Muramasa.”

Something flashed in the man’s dark eyes. “I see.”

“We believe a wealthy local collector organized the theft of the swords,” Luke said. “But the man he tasked with recovering the swords never brought them to him. And now, it appears another group are also interested in the swords.”

Blair nodded. “They left some shurikens and Japanese text at a crime scene. They also attacked us on the interstate. Nat tells us the text they left is the Bushido.”

“The way of the warrior,” Takeshi murmured.

Luke pulled out a picture of the Japanese text and held it out.

Takeshi took it, frowning as he studied it. “I believe I know who these people are.”

“Who?” Luke asked.

“They call themselves Cold Night.”

Blair straightened. “Like the Muramasa sword in the legend Nat mentioned. 10,000 Cold Nights.”

Takeshi inclined his head. “Correct. They are a cult that worships the samurai. But they don’t truly understand the soul of the samurai. All they see is the fighting, the weapons, and the strength. But true strength isn’t just about a physical fight—” he glanced at Blair “—or how well you use a weapon.”

She blinked. “Okay.”

“True strength comes from within. True strength is when we follow our beliefs. When we still act to do the right thing, even in the face of our own fears.”

There was just the sound of the tinkling water.

“Be careful, Detective MacKade, Blair. These people are very dangerous, and they are no samurai.”

Luke and Blair wasted no time getting back to headquarters.

“You’ll run some searches on Cold Night?” she asked.

He nodded. “And I need to check in with my team. See if they’ve found anything else.”

As soon as Luke reached his desk, he saw he had a bunch of messages and calls to return. Clements, Rivera and Moretti appeared. They all looked tired.

“Baxter?” Clements asked.

“Hanging in there,” Luke said.

Moretti nodded. “He’s a tough bastard.”

“He is.” Luke straightened. “What have you guys got for me?”

“We identified the attacker,” Rivera said. “Guy called Jackson Caldwell. Clements and I swung by his place in North Vegas.”

Clements leaned against a desk. “And lo and behold, we found Kazan’s dead body.”

Rivera held up a hand. “But wait, there’s more.”

“Caldwell belongs to a samurai cult,” Blair said.

Rivera’s mouth snapped closed. “Dammit, how did you know?”

“Just came from visiting a samurai expert,” Luke said. “Cult is called Cold Night. Moretti and Rivera, I want you to dig up everything you can on them.”

The men nodded.

“On it,” Rivera said.

“Clements, follow up on Kazan’s murder.”

“You got it, boss.”

“I’ll update my team,” Blair murmured.

Everyone headed for their desks and Blair appropriated one by the window, working on her tablet. It wasn’t long before Luke was caught up in a whirlwind of work.

But frustration chewed on him with sharp teeth. He had no new leads. No credible data on Cold Night. No tips on where the sword might be.

He sat back and stabbed a hand through his hair.

Blair suddenly appeared, leaning a hip against his desk. “Time to call it a day, Detective.”

Shit, already? “Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He needed some damn sleep.

Blair fidgeted before he watched her straighten. He lowered his hands and waited.

“I’m going back to my place tonight. We both need a decent night’s rest so we’re fresh tomorrow.”

He scowled at her. “It’s safer if you stay with me.”

“I have an excellent security system, and I feel like a broken record telling you I can protect myself, MacKade. Us being together…is not a good idea.”

Anger shot through his veins. She was reinforcing her defenses, throwing up walls. “Because you’re afraid.”

She sighed. “Not this again.”

“I want to protect you.”

“And we both know you’ll do more than just protect me.”

“I want that, too,” he said.

“I…can’t.”

“Fuck, Blair. When are you going to stop running?”

Her face twisted. “I have my reasons.”

“So, talk to me.”

He watched the shutters drop down over her eyes. “Sleep well, MacKade.”

Luke sat there, gut churning, and watched her walk away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Blair stomped up the steps to her apartment. She was mad, angry, and pissed.

She was pissed at MacKade. Herself. This incessant desire that wouldn’t let up.

And she was also pissed at the part of her that wanted to wrap her arms around Luke and not let go. He was single-minded in both his need for her and his desire to protect her.

She heaved out a breath. She wasn’t used to that.

And she knew she’d acted like a coward.

Walking down the hall to her door, she jiggled her keys. She wanted him. Flat-out wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man.

Her phone rang and her pulse jumped. Maybe it was Luke. She pulled the phone out of her pocket. Callie.

With a sigh, she pressed the phone to her ear. “Hey, Cal.”

“Just checking in.”

“No leads and no new stitches.”

Callie made a sound. “Not checking in on the mission. On you and the hot detective.”

Blair groaned. “Callie.”

“Spill, Mason.”

Leaning against the wall, Blair let her head thunk back. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Good.” Her friend sounded downright gleeful. “You’re always in complete control with the guys you date. And I use the word ‘date’ very loosely.”

“Cal, you know I lost good friends in the Marines. My friend, Beth. Hell, I almost lost Lachlan.”

“I know.” Callie’s tone was sober. “I understand.”

Of course, Callie did. As a pararescueman, Callie had lost both patients and fellow airmen.

“And I lost Will.” Just mentioning her brother had pain slicing up her belly. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, just the thought of Will made her throat tighten.

“You won’t lose Luke, Blair.”

“You can’t guarantee that. I…can’t risk it.” Blair closed her eyes. So damn weak.

“Some risks are worth taking,” Callie said. “Love is worth it. Worth the risk, the fear, even the pain.”

“Shit.”

“I hear that my work here is done.” There was a smile in Callie’s voice.

“You’re all kinds of annoying, Kimura.”

“You love me.”

Warmth filled Blair. Her team had worked their way under her skin without her even realizing. “Yeah, I do.”

“Sleep well. I’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks, Cal.”

Smiling, Blair unlocked her door. Tomorrow, she’d talk to Luke. Shit. She felt her mouth go dry. Woman up, Mason.

She stepped into her apartment. It felt like she’d been away for days and, for the first time ever, she didn’t feel that familiar calm when she was in her own space.

She hadn’t even turned the light on when she was viciously struck from behind.

Pain rocked her skull, and she went down on her knees.

Her hands curled, her muscles automatically locking to fight back. But she sensed a body move and a hand gripped the back of her neck, dragging her up. She was slammed into the wall, hard.

Fuck. Agony exploded in her face and she tasted blood on her lips. In the faint light, she saw her blood smeared on the wall.

Fight, Blair. Move.

But her head was foggy, her body slow to respond.

Her arms were wrenched behind her back, and she rallied enough to elbow her attacker in the gut. She heard a rough curse.

Then she felt cool metal around her wrists and the click of handcuffs closing. Dammit. Blair bit down on her lip, the small move and pain under her control. It was enough to clear some of the fog.

So, she couldn’t use her hands. That didn’t mean she was defenseless.

Her muscles coiled, and she readied for her attack. There was more than one person in the room.

But then she felt the sting of a needle in her neck. No. She twisted, but she could already feel the drug taking effect.

“We don’t want you misbehaving, now do we?” a smooth voice drawled.

The lights went on and she blinked.

Standing in front of her was Salvador Morgan and two big, muscle-bound goons.

“I want the sword,” Morgan said.

“Me too.” Blair turned her head and spat blood on the floor.

“Tell me everything you know.”

“Fuck you,” she said.

The goon beside her shifted and a fist slammed into her jaw. Ow. Fuck. More pain tore through her.

Blair felt the sedative moving through her veins, and knew she didn’t have much time. She launched herself upward, kneeing the goon between his legs. He made a strangled sound and stumbled back.

She spun and saw the guard rushing at her with a knife. She dodged and he came at her again. Jerking left, she knew she hadn’t been quite fast enough. She felt a sting on her side.

Fuck, she hoped that didn’t need any stitches. Blair grunted, spinning around. Morgan had moved well out of reach, staying out of the line of fire. Coward.

“I don’t want her cut up,” Morgan said.

The other guard scowled, but slipped his knife away. He raised his fists and rushed her.

Blair waited, letting him come. She landed a hard front kick to his gut.

He growled and came again. She jerked to the side, but his foot shot out, tripping her. The punch to her stomach made her bend over. She gasped to suck in air.

The first guard she’d kneed was up, face flushed red with anger.

“Come on then, Thing One and Thing Two. Not scared of one woman who’s tied up, are you?”

They rushed her. Blair fought. But with every kick and sidestep, she felt herself getting slower. The energy was draining out of her as the drug took over.

She kicked one of the men and he doubled over. She jumped, wrapped her legs around his neck, and twisted. She heard his neck snap.

“Fuck,” the other man shouted. “She killed Richards.”

Blair landed on her side, but quickly scrambled up. Dammit all to hell. Fury exploded in her chest. Morgan was the cause of all of this. She broke past the remaining guard and managed to headbutt the rich prick in the face.

He shouted, throwing his hands up.

She rammed her shoulder into him and heard him grunt in pain. “You are an asshole of massive proportions.”

Hard hands jerked her off him and she fell to the floor. Hits and kicks pummeled her body.

Morgan shoved past his goon and wrapped his hands around her neck. He looked half crazed.

“No one hurts me,” he shouted. “No one puts hands on me!”

He squeezed and squeezed until black spots danced in front of her eyes.

He was going to kill her. She saw it in his eyes.

As Blair collapsed, her last thought was Luke’s handsome face. She wished she hadn’t been afraid. She wished…

Her mind drifted. She had no idea of how much time passed, but when Blair came around, she groaned. She was lying in the middle of her living room floor, pain a massive throb in her body.

She moved her hand and realized the handcuffs were gone. She reached for her pocket and nearly moaned at the pain it set off. She managed to get her phone out.

One of her eyes was swollen shut, and she couldn’t see what she was doing. She punched in some numbers.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. She tried to breathe deeply but her ribs hurt.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

Blair tried to talk, but her voice came out croaky.

“Speak up, please. Do you need help?”

“Yes…need help.”

LUKE HAD GONE OUT to the Flamingo and bought a pack of cupcakes he knew Blair liked.

It was an apology.

Maybe the way to Blair Mason’s heart was through her stomach. He sighed. He’d gone off half-cocked. He knew Blair could take care of herself. He didn’t want his need to protect her to make her feel like he doubted her or her abilities.

He also knew he couldn’t rush getting her to trust and accept him. He might want all of her, but he couldn’t force her to feel the same way. It needed time and patience.

He blew out a breath. He could be patient.

Luke knew the first thing he had to do was to stop stepping between her and danger, and learn to stand beside her. He wanted to get beneath that hard shell. He wanted to get deep inside her, to uncover all of her. He wanted her unconditional trust.

Lucky he was a man who enjoyed a challenge.

He drove onto her street. He started formulating a plan to get her to let him in her front door. Hopefully, the cupcakes would grease the wheels.

Then he saw the flashing lights in the darkness.

There were several police cruisers in front of Blair’s apartment. His blood turned to ice.

Luke jerked his car to a stop, flung open the door, and raced toward the front door. He’d forgotten his jacket but didn’t feel the cool nip in the air.

A knot of officers stood together, faces grim.

He expected to see Blair come charging out, furious. Instead, he saw the front door of her apartment building open. Paramedics were wheeling out a body bag.

No.

His legs wavered, like his muscles had been cut. He stood there, staring, sound roaring in his ears.

“MacKade.” He turned and saw Rivera coming toward him.

“Let me in.” He charged toward the door.

“Hey, cool it,” Rivera said.

“Blair—” Luke’s voice broke. Fuck. He just stared at the body bag.

“She’s in the stairwell, giving her statement to Clements.”

Everything inside Luke went still. She was alive. She was okay.

Rivera frowned. “Luke, you okay—?”

“Blair!” he roared her name. The only thing he felt was the driving need to see her. To get her in his arms.

She came charging out the door. She was battered, one eye swollen closed, and there were bruises around her neck.

She flew across the path and he scooped her up, holding on tight.

Warm. Alive.

“It was fucking Salvador Morgan and a couple of his goons,” she said.

“I’ll kill him.” And Luke meant every word.

She lifted her head, her uninjured eye widening. “Ah, you’re a police detective, remember? One of the good guys. You aren’t allowed to go around murdering people.”

“I don’t care.” His hands clenched on her. “You’re alive.” His voice cracked.

Her face softened and she nodded. She pressed her cheek against his neck.

“She hasn’t let the paramedics check her out yet,” Clements said from beside them.

“They will check her.”

Blair lifted her head and opened her mouth.

“Blair.”

She stared at him a beat. “Fine. Okay. But no stitches.”

“And then, you’re staying at my place.”

She studied him for a beat, then nodded. “Okay, MacKade.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“I’m fine, Lachlan. The paramedics checked me over. Jeez, we both know I’ve had worse.”

Lachlan made an unhappy sound over the phone. “I’m going to rip Morgan’s head off.”

“Well, you’ll have to get in line behind MacKade. He already has warrants out for the guy and his remaining goon.”

“But you took one down.”

“Sure did.”

Lachlan let out a breath. “Fine. We’ll meet up soon. I don’t like this, Blair. Not at all.”

“I know.” Damn, her voice still sounded raspy. Fucking Salvador Morgan. “Don’t worry, MacKade is hovering around like a mother hen. I’ll be fine.”

Lachlan blew out a breath. “Ty’s coming into Vegas. He’s going to treat your bruises with his laser.”

Good. Ty’s fancy treatment increased healing rates and made bruises fade in hours instead of days.

“I worry about you sometimes, Blair. You aren’t made of steel.”

Warmth filled her. Lachlan knew her better than most people. “Shh, don’t let that secret get out.”

Her friend barked out a laugh. “Get some rest.”

Blair slid the phone back in her pocket. They were back at MacKade’s place, and she was sitting at his kitchen counter. She fingered her swollen eye. She’d held an ice pack on it for what felt like an eternity. She hadn’t lied to Lachlan, she’d had way worse. Hell, she’d lost her damn eye. And the paramedics had given her some kick-ass painkillers, so she wasn’t feeling any pain.

She glanced out the window and saw Luke outside by the pool. It had to be chilly out there in the night air and she saw steam rising off the heated pool. He was sitting on a chair, cradling a glass of bourbon. He looked tense as hell.

She slid open the door and his head shot up.

“Lachlan okay?” he asked.

“I held him back from killing anybody.”

Blair moved closer, and Luke shoved something across the outdoor table. She saw the pack of cupcakes and her insides went gooey. Damn, she never went gooey.

She opened the packet. Chocolate. Her favorite. She bit into one. “Yum.”

“I bought them for you earlier. I was on my way to your place to apologize for being a possessive asshole.”

“Forgiven.”

They stared at each other and the tension didn’t lessen.

Blair glanced at the pool. “I think I’ll go for a swim.”

“It’s cold out here and you have stitches.”

“Pfft, it’ll be fine.” Her shoulder had been rebandaged. Hell, she’d taken stitches through mud, sweat, and substances she couldn’t identify in the past.

Luke lifted his glass and drank the rest of the bourbon in one smooth move. He slammed the glass on the table. “I think I’ll—”

She started undoing the buttons on her shirt.

He froze. “Blair—”

Ignoring his warning tone, she slipped her shirt off. His gaze was on her—hot enough to strip skin.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” she murmured, dropping her bra on the ground. The cold night air made her shiver and goosebumps broke out on her skin.

He groaned and she made short work of unfastening her jeans. The denim and her panties slid down her legs.

Naked, she sauntered to the pool steps. She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw his hands clamped on the arms of his chair. She waded in. The warm water was the perfect temperature, and she felt a few stings as the water hit cuts and scrapes, but ignored it. Then she pushed off, swimming a few laps.

When she rose, pushing her wet hair back, he was still watching her. The intensity of his gaze made her chest tighten, and a thrill of excitement arrowed through her. Again, she felt that need to soothe him. To watch his tension and worry seep away.

She bobbed in the water and he never looked away. Not once. He was a strong man, a protector, a man who dedicated his life to taking care of others. She suspected that drive had started when he’d lost his mother.

And now he wanted to shield Blair from all the terrible things in the world.

She didn’t need shielding, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate that he wanted to do it for her. She understood now that it was in his DNA. Luke could no more turn off the need to protect than she could.

Moving toward the steps, she rose out of the water. The cool night air brushed over her sensitive skin. Water droplets rolled down her collarbones and dripped off her swollen breasts. She stepped out of the pool and walked toward him. She slid into his lap, straddling him.

His hands clamped on her hips.

Blair ran her finger down his stubbled jaw. “I’m getting you wet.”

“And you’ll get cold.”

“I don’t feel the cold too much.”

He pulled in a breath, one hand rising to touch her bruised face. “You’re hurt.”

“And I’ve had my fair share of painkillers. I’m not feeling any pain.”

His body was big, hot, and tense beneath her. “Blair…”

She lowered her head, nipping at his jaw. She let her lips wander up and she pulled his earlobe between her teeth.

“I do have an ache,” she murmured. “One only you can help me with.”

“Oh?” His voice was raspy.

“It’s a throb between my legs. An emptiness that only you can fill.”

With a growl he surged up, carrying her into the house. He strode across the living area and made it as far as the couch. He laid her back on it, kneeling between her legs. His hands slid up her damp calves, then he shoved her legs open.

He lowered his head and bit her inner thigh.

“Oh.” She arched up.

He took his damn time, kissing her skin, licking the water off it, nibbling one thigh, then the other.

Blair sucked in some breaths. No one took their time with her. Sex was usually fast, furious, then over. This…this savoring was something else.

He moved higher, then his mouth was on her.

Oh, God.

She slid her hands into his hair. His mouth worked her, licking and sucking. A rumble of pleasure went through him and she felt the echo of it in her body.

“You taste so fucking good, Blair.” His palms slid under her ass, lifting her to his hungry mouth.

He ate her like he was desperate for her, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. Pleasure cascaded and Blair gave herself up to it. Here, it was just the two of them. There were no bad guys, no injuries, no worry about having to protect people, no fear of being too late.

Luke slid a finger inside her, working it deep. He pulled back and thrust two back in, pumping them inside her as he kept sucking. He closed his mouth on her clit and she cried out.

“MacKade—”

“Say my fucking name, Blair. My mouth is on your clit, my fingers deep inside your tight, hot body. Say my name.”

“Luke.” Her orgasm crashed over her like a detonation and she reared up.

He kept thrusting and sucking, driving her up a second time. By the time she was finished, her throat was hoarse from her cries.

When he lifted his head, her body was still shaking. The orgasms hadn’t satisfied, they’d made her hungrier. She was desperate for him.

He smiled. The smug bastard looked very satisfied.

Blair sat up and crawled into his lap. She hoped to hell this couch was strong enough for what she had in mind. She tore at his jeans.

A hand slid into her wet hair. “Baby—”

“Need you inside me.”

With a groan, he helped her, shoving his jeans down. He fished something out of his pocket and held up a small, foil square.

“I like a man who’s prepared for a mission,” she said.

“I’ve been carrying it around for days. Just in case.”

With a smile, Blair tore it open. She smoothed the condom down over his swollen cock and he groaned. Then she rose up, moving her hips so the thick head of his cock brushed between her thighs.

They both groaned.

“You going to fill me up, Detective?”

“Yeah. I’ll be so deep I’ll wreck you for anyone else.” His hands clamped on her hips, hard enough to bruise. “You’ll feel me here between these toned thighs for a long time.”

“Promises, promises.”

His mouth took hers. She groaned, tangling her tongue with his. That taste…she’d never get enough of it.

Blair pressed her hands to his broad shoulders, their mouths moving just the barest whisper apart. She felt his hot breath on her lips. Her fingers dug into him as she lifted her hips. God, his skin was so sleek and hot. One of his hands sank into her ass, gripping hard. Using his shoulders for leverage, she sank down on his cock. As her body stretched around his thick length, she moaned.

A groan was torn out of him and soon she was filled with all the thick inches of Luke’s cock.

Then she started to move, riding him. Driving them both higher.

LUKE KEPT his eyes locked on Blair’s face as she came undone.

He could watch her come forever. Her face was flushed, her mouth open, pleasure etched on her features.

He gripped her hips harder, slamming her down. He kept pumping his cock inside her.

When her head fell back, he moved one hand, sinking it into her golden hair. He tilted her head until those bi-colored eyes met his.

“I’m the only one who touches you now, Blair.”

She moaned.

“I’m the only one who’s going to feel how tight and hot you are.”

“Oh, God, Luke. Move. Faster.”

He did, rocking his hips up. With each thrust, he grunted. She felt so damn good. Seconds later, he felt his balls draw up, and then he groaned. He thrust her down as he pumped his hips up. His release hit him like a shotgun blast.

“Fuck, Blair. Fuck.” He tangled a hand in her wet hair, pulling hard.

Drained, he sat there as she collapsed against him. He held her tight in his lap, not wanting to let her go. He was careful not to put any pressure on her shoulder or face wounds.

He pressed his cheek to her hair and breathed her in. He felt her shiver and worried she was getting cold. “I need to get rid of this condom.”

Pushing to his feet, he kicked free of his jeans, and headed to the downstairs half bath. Job done, he headed back to her. She hadn’t moved from her sprawl on the couch. He lifted her into his arms and she clamped her legs around his waist. Then he strode to the back door, slid it open with one hand, and headed outside again.

When the cold air hit her, she gasped, but he aimed straight for the pool.

He descended and the water felt great on his skin. Holding her, he drifted closer to the deep end. Cocooned in the heated water and the dark night, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“I thought you were dead.” The words shot out of him without him intending to say them aloud.

She lifted her head. “I’m right here, Luke.”

He swallowed. He felt like he had a damn rock in his throat. “I saw the cruiser…”

Damn, even now the memory still hurt.

Her hands drifted across his shoulders, massaging. “Luke.”

“I saw the body bag and my world stopped.”

She clutched him tighter. “It reminded you of your mother.”

He stilled. “Who told you about my mother?”

“Baxter.”

Luke let out a breath. “Yeah, it probably did, but at the time, I was only thinking about you.”

She turned his head and her lips touched his. Luke deepened the kiss. Only the feel and taste of her could soothe this ragged, black pain inside him.

As they kissed, the water lapping against them, they both felt desire growing again. Each pull of her mouth turned the hunger from a low simmer to an inferno.

One of her hands slid down between their wet bodies. She stroked her nails over his abs until she circled his cock. She stroked him.

Fuck. Need was like a punch to his gut. He made his way towards the stairs, holding her tight. As he pushed out of the water, she clamped her legs around his hips. He headed straight for the house.

“Next time I’m inside you, it’ll be in my bed.”

She made a humming noise, her mouth sucking on his neck. Need flared over his skin.

Luke strode up the stairs and was soon in his shadow-drenched bedroom. He set her down on the bed. Quickly, he spun her around on her hands and knees. Just like she’d been the other night. He shaped his hands over her ass.

“I’ve been picturing you like this since the other night. It’s been tormenting me. I keep imagining sliding my cock inside you like this. Fucking you hard and coming inside you, not on you.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, wiggling her ass. Desire flushed her face. “So do it.”

He opened the drawer of the bedside table and made short work getting a condom on. Then he gripped her hips and plunged inside her. Her back arched.

“You like that, don’t you? You like my big cock inside you.”

“Yes. Harder. More.”

Of course, she didn’t want soft and gentle. Not Blair Mason. “You make me so hard, Blair.”

“Yes.” She pushed back against him and moaned.

“So damn sexy. I love watching you drive yourself back on my cock. Now, keep going and make yourself come.”

She did, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the room.

“You always give as good as you get,” he said.

“Yes. Give it all to me.”

He pressed his body over hers and gripped her uninjured shoulder. He used that for leverage as he thrust harder inside her. Her body jolted under his, the headboard thumping against the wall.

“This big cock is all for you, Blair.” Damn, he loved her warmth, her tightness. “Now rub your clit.”

She obeyed, her hand sliding beneath her body. She let out a husky cry. “Yes.”

He felt her clench around him and he leaned back, watching her take him. That gorgeous ass, the way her body took his cock, those sexy, needy cries.

Luke felt her body start to tighten. “That’s it. Come on my cock.”

Her head slammed up, her back arching, and he kept pumping inside her. She screamed his name.

A second later, he gripped her hard, thrusting deep. He started coming, roaring through the sensation.

They both collapsed on the bed, damp and sticky. The musky scent of sex filled the air.

She turned her head to look at him, a smile on her face. “That was better than cupcakes.”

“I hope so.” He tugged on her hair, studying her bruised face. “You okay?”

“Do you really need to ask?” She smiled again.

“No, guess I don’t.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “No more hiding, Blair. No more running from me. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m inside your defenses.”

She stared at him. “Okay.”

He cupped her cheek. “I’m right here beside you. Right where I want to be.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Blair sat in the early morning Las Vegas sunshine, only wearing Luke’s blue shirt and sipping her coffee. It was chilly, but she liked the bite in the air. Her empty plate sat beside her. She’d finished her delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs. She lifted her face to the sun.

She was alive. She’d popped her fair share of painkillers this morning. Sure, she had a few aches, pains, and bruises…although not all of them were from the attack.

Luke was to blame for plenty of them.

She smiled and sipped her coffee again.

Luke came outside and she smiled at him. His shirt was a dark gray today and it looked good on him.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope.”

His gaze ran over her face, a flash of anger in his eyes before he hid it. “The bruising looks bad today. How do you feel?”

“I took enough painkillers to sink a ship.” She smiled. “I’m fine, Luke. The bruises will fade and the wounds will heal.”

He nodded at her coffee. “Need a top-up?”

She shook her head and felt a strange prickle over her skin. A part of her liked this togetherness, but a part of her felt spooked. It was so…domestic.

“You going through the case notes?” He sat and nudged the papers spread out on the table.

“Yeah, I keep hoping I’ll see something we’ve missed. Right now, all we can tell is that Morgan started the ball rolling by initiating the theft of Muramasa swords. Then, this samurai cult got interested and killed Kazan to get the swords.”

“So, Cold Night has the sword. Will they leave Las Vegas? Will they lock it away somewhere? I still don’t have a feel on what they want to do with it. In my gut, I feel like they aren’t done.”

Blair felt the same. “Well, let’s hope they don’t want to massacre a bunch of innocent people.”

He looked lost in thought. He stroked a hand down her arm.

Damn, he was so handsome. Feeling twitchy again, she took a sip of her coffee.

“You okay?”

His question drew her gaze back to his. He was watching her now. She lifted a shoulder. “Just feeling edgy.”

He smiled at her. “About what we did last night?”

“And this morning,” she blurted out.

His smile widened. “I will never look at my shower or my hallway in quite the same way again.”

She felt heat in her cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the heat in her belly. “I liked what we did last night and this morning.” Maybe too much. Especially when they were in the middle of a dangerous mission.

“Happiness, being happy with someone…it’s not incompatible with being a badass, Blair.”

She choked out a laugh. “Right. Because I’m so built for happiness and togetherness and all that jazz.”

He reached out and tugged on her hair. “We all want to belong, to be loved.”

Love? The word sent a shot of panic through her. “MacKade, do you see me with a picket fence? I’d probably paint it black.”

He smiled. “Then you’d run over it, chop it up, maybe set it on fire.” His face turned serious. “It doesn’t change the fact that if you wanted it enough, you can have what the fence represents. With or without the actual fence.”

Her throat went tight, and she sipped her coffee again.

“I don’t have a picket fence, Blair.”

She turned her head. “The more people you have in your life, the more people you care about, the greater the risk that they’ll get hurt. That they’ll be gone.”

“Blair—”

She shook her head. “You know that as well as I do. You told me last night.”

He stared at her, his dark eyes like deep, unreadable pools.

“My brother was six when he was run over in our driveway,” the words burst out of her.

Blair’s throat tightened. Shit, she felt like her chest was cracked open.

“Blair—” Luke moved closer and it spurred her on.

“We were playing together. I was a year older, and was supposed to be watching him.”

“No one can blame a seven-year-old for that kind of thing,” he said sternly.

“Our neighbor came out and waved. I was too busy on my new, shiny red bike. Will was right beside me on his bike, and it all happened so quickly.” She sucked in a breath. “The car started backing out…I saw Will riding closer. I screamed, I tried to get to him, but I was too late. Too late.”

“Baby.” Luke curled a hand around the back of her neck and squeezed.

“There was a screech and screams. Then…Will was just gone.” And her family had never been the same.

Luke squeezed again. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“My parents fell apart. My mother was pregnant at the time and lost the baby. After, well, we just seemed like people living under the same roof, not a family. They were distant. I only talk to them on holidays. Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays.” She rubbed her chest. God, this baring-your-soul thing hurt.

“I understand,” he murmured. “I felt the same when my mom was murdered. We were this tight-knit, laughing family, then suddenly we weren’t. We weren’t whole any more. I remember thinking I never wanted anyone to feel like I did.”

“To feel that gaping hole, the sense that something important is missing.”

He nodded.

She worried her bottom lip. “But your family pulled through.”

“I was older. I fought to drag them through.” He stroked her cheekbone. “Impossible for a seven-year-old to be the glue. Your parents should have been.”

“I just knew I didn’t want anyone to feel like that, to suffer like that.”

“So you joined the military,” he said.

She nodded. “And now, in our own ways, we both protect others.”

“Yeah.”

“Kids…they’re so damn fragile.”

“That’s why they have parents to love and care for them. But there are no guarantees in life, Blair.” He paused. “I bet you’d make a fierce mother.”

Her belly felt funny. She choked out a laugh. “Hell, why are we talking about kids?”

“Okay, no more talk about family or kids.”

“Or picket fences.”

“Deal.”

She shook her head. “There, I’ve bared my deepest, darkest secret to you.”

His gaze ran over her face. “I bet you have other ones. I’ve never met a woman with so many layers, who protects them so fiercely.” His eyes met hers. “I want them all.”

Her chest knocked against her ribs. She just wanted him.

His gaze ran over her. “I like you in my shirt.”

She fiddled with the top button. “I like it, too.”

“I like you out of my shirt too.”

Just like that, desire roared up, white-hot.

They both shot out of their chairs. His arms closed around her and her hands clenched on his shirt. She drank in the taste of him, her tongue plunging alongside his.

“Have to get to the station soon.” His teeth scraped down the side of her neck, but he kept it gentle near her bruises.

“Then you’d better make this quick.”

He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his hips. When the hard heat of his erection pressed between her legs, she moaned and undulated against him.

He muttered a curse. In three long strides, he had her back pressed against the side of his house. Then he was tearing at his jeans.

“Hurry.” She bit down on his bottom lip.

Another curse and his hand slid into the side of her panties. With a hard wrench, he ripped them off her. She heard a crinkle of foil and felt his hand working between them.

A second later, he plunged inside her.

Blair’s head rapped back against the house. She felt the stretch, the slow burn, as her body took his. So damn good.

“It’s like the first time every time,” he growled. “Always so good.”

“Fuck me, Luke. Harder.”

He obeyed, thrusting inside her.

“Hello,” a female voice called from behind the fence. “Luke, is that you?”

He made a strangled sound. “Meredith?”

“I thought I heard voices.”

He thrust inside Blair again, and she stifled a laugh. God, he was still inside her and talking to Miss Perky.

He thrust again and Blair smacked his shoulder.

“Blair and I are getting ready for work,” he said.

“Oh. Blair’s there.” Meredith’s tone turned sour. “Well, have a nice day, then.”

“It’s starting off really great.” Luke picked up his pace, thrusting deep inside Blair.

She let out a choked laugh, and then she heard a door slam. Miss Perky was gone.

Thank God. “Move it, MacKade. Fuck me hard.”

SITTING at his desk at the station, Luke was feeling pretty damn good. He’d just called the hospital and found out that Baxter was awake and conscious.

Nearby, he heard Blair joking with Clements.

He watched her toss her head back, her blonde ponytail swinging. The bruises on her face ignited anger in his gut, but she acted like they weren’t even there. She laughed again. Of course, Blair laughed long and loud. Not a polite little chuckle. And if she ever giggled, he was pretty sure she’d spontaneously combust.

He was in love with her.

Oh, hell. He was in love with Blair. Of course, he was. She was it for him. He watched her head down the hallway toward the break room, his gaze landing on that amazing ass of hers.

He wanted to tell her, but he knew she’d run a mile. She’d finally opened up to him, telling him about her brother, but he knew he couldn’t rush her. He needed to come up with a plan to convince her to be his without freaking her out.

Sensing movement, he turned his head and saw Lachlan striding through the doors into the Homicide Section. Natalie and Ty were by his side.

“Hey.” Luke rose.

“Hi,” Lachlan said. “How’s Blair?”

“Gone to get a candy bar from the vending machine, I believe.” Luke tipped his head to the side, taking in the trio with a hard stare. “She’s doing okay.”

He saw Lachlan’s stiff shoulders relax a little.

“Good,” Nat said.

“I brought some gear.” Ty hefted a bag. “It will help her injuries heal faster.”

Luke nodded and kept studying them. “You guys aren’t just here to check on Blair.”

Nat leaned a hip against the edge of MacKade’s desk. “We found something.”

Luke spotted Blair reappear at the end of the room. He gave a short whistle and she turned, putting her hands on her hips. When she saw Lachlan, Ty and Nat, she hurried over, smiling.

“Hey, you guys.” She pointed a finger at Luke. “I’m not a dog, so don’t whistle at me.”

He whistled a little tune and watched her eyes narrow.

Laughing, Natalie leaned in for a hug. “I see you two are still driving each other crazy.”

“At least there hasn’t been bloodshed.” Lachlan gripped her shoulder, staring at her. Even though the man’s face twisted with fury, he gently ran his fingers over her bruises.

Luke felt an instant flash of jealously. He didn’t want any man to put his hands on her. But he knew they were good friends. They’d been through a lot together. Luke reminded himself that Lachlan was very much in love with his woman, Rowan.

“You’re rivaling Kinsey for the bruises she got during her ordeal,” Lachlan growled.

Blair waved a hand. “I’m fine.”

“You will be when I’m finished with you,” Ty added.

Nat shifted. “But first, we have information on the text you found on the wall in Kazan’s house.”

“Go ahead,” Luke said.

“I told you that the last part wasn’t quite right. I translated it. This cult says they follow the code of the samurai, but like many religions, they pick and choose the rules to follow. They’ve interpreted the Bushido to suit their own agenda. They’ve added a ninth virtue. Power. They are all about power and want to showcase the power of the samurai.”

“Shit,” Luke said. “They want to use the sword.”

Natalie nodded. “That’s my take.”

“How?” Blair said. “Where? What are they going to do?”

“They’ll cause another massacre,” Lachlan said.

Nat nodded. “Somewhere that will gain attention.”

“The samurai exhibit again?” Blair said. “Will they go back there again?”

Luke turned to his computer and tapped the keyboard. He frowned. “The samurai exhibit left Las Vegas. After the massacre, they shut it down. It’s moved on. To New York.”

“Shit.” Blair’s eyes met his. “When’s the opening?”

His gut tightened. “Tonight. They’re having a huge gala. All of the who’s who of New York will be there.”

“Fuck,” Lachlan bit out.

Luke pressed his hands to his hips. “It’s at the Glacé. Manhattan’s hottest new hotel. We need to get to New York.” He looked at Blair. “You have a dress?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Yes, MacKade, I do own a dress or two.”

“And heels? Pretty sure combat boots won’t blend in.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Aren’t you guys cute.” Nat grinned at them.

“First, I need an empty room so I can do this laser treatment on Blair’s face,” Ty said. “If combat boots won’t blend in, that spectacular bruising won’t either.”

Luke nodded. “Conference room three is free. And I need to make some calls. See if I can convince the exhibit owners and the Glacé to shut this gala down.”

Lachlan crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Luke and Blair. The man’s golden gaze seared into Luke.

Blair might not have her brother anymore, but she had a de facto one standing right here.

Well, Lachlan was going to have to get used to the fact that Blair was Luke’s. He reached out and stroked Blair’s cheek. “Go and let Ty fix you up.”

Faint color hit her cheeks. “Okay.” She looked over and saw her teammates watching them blatantly. She sniffed. “Come on, Ty, time to work your magic.”

Nat and Ty followed her toward the conference rooms.

Unsurprisingly, Lachlan stayed. The big man crossed his arms over his chest.

“You have something to say, Hunter,” Luke said. “Say it.”

“Blair is tough as hell. If she needs to take you down, she will. She dragged my injured ass out of hell, and lost her eye in the process. She still got us to the evac point.”

Luke hated the thought of her injured and in danger. “Sounds like Blair.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll kick your ass.”

“I have no intention of hurting her.”

The other man blew out a breath, glancing toward the conference rooms. “She…if you ever tell her I said this, I’ll never admit it. She’s tough on the outside, but not on the inside. She’s suffered a lot of loss in her life.”

“She told me about Will.”

Surprise flared in Lachlan’s gold eyes. “She told you?”

“Yeah.”

“She doesn’t talk about him. And you know her parents checked out on her?”

“I read between the lines.”

Lachlan nodded. “You got a prize in your hands, MacKade. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’m falling in love with her, so I don’t plan to.”

“Shit.” Lachlan ran a hand through his hair. “Well, good luck. Don’t let her push you away, and whatever you do, don’t treat her like a princess.”

Luke laughed. “Pretty sure I’ve waded through all of that already.”

Lachlan nodded. “Okay, enough of this heart to heart shit.”

“I need to make those calls.” As Lachlan headed for the conference room, Luke pulled out his phone.

When Blair and the others returned, Luke was barking into the phone and trying to keep a hold on his anger.

“You’re making a big mistake. Dammit, fine.” He stabbed a finger to end the call.

“Sounds like that didn’t go well,” Blair said.

He studied her face and couldn’t see any changes to her bruising. “The exhibit organizers are refusing to cancel the gala. I couldn’t very well tell them about cursed swords infused with nanotechnology. They feel their security provisions are fine to deal with the threat of Cold Night.”

“Shit,” Lachlan muttered.

“Clements has already been in touch with NYPD. They’ve been apprised and are onboard. And security at the Glacé Hotel has agreed to work with us.” Luke looked at his watch. “We need to work out how the hell we can get to New York before the gala starts.”

“Luckily for us, we have a superfast jet-copter,” Blair said.

“I’ll get it prepped.” Lachlan pulled out his phone.

Blair looked lost in thought, a frown creasing her brow. Luke leaned in. “We’ll stop them.”

She nodded.

His fingers brushed hers. “And I look forward to seeing you in a dress.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Blair sat in the hotel suite while Natalie fixed her makeup. The other woman dabbed a few swipes of something on Blair’s face, working a little longer on the faded bruises on Blair’s face and neck.

Ty’s treatment had worked magic and on the flight to New York, her bruising had faded a lot.

Nat straightened. “There. You’ll bring him to his knees.”

Blair turned to the mirror. She looked amazing. Her hair was done up in a tight roll at the back of her head, showing off her neck. Natalie had worked wonders with the makeup, accentuating Blair’s eyes and cheekbones.

She glanced at her friend. “And you look sensational too.”

The archeologist wore a bright-red dress that skimmed over her body, accentuating her figure. Her dark hair was loose in long waves, and her eyes took smoky to a new level. Add in the fire-engine-red lips and the woman was a knockout.

“I think you’ll bring a certain member of our team to his knees as well,” Blair added with a small smirk. “Or, at least leave him panting.”

Nat fluffed her hair. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

Blair snorted. “Right.”

She turned back to the mirror, looking at her dress. It was metallic silver, and every time she moved, it shimmered in the lights. It had an asymmetric neckline, with one arm—and her bandaged shoulder—covered in a long sleeve and the other shoulder bare. It was long—she had weapons to hide, after all—but the flowing skirt had a slit up one leg, all the way to her thigh, so her movements wouldn’t be hampered. It was secretly practical, but overtly sexy.

Nat grinned. “Time to go.”

Luke and the rest of the team would be prowling the exhibit room. Luke had spent most of their flight to New York blasting the exhibit organizers, coordinating with the Glacé Hotel security, and liaising with the NYPD. The plan was for Team 52 to mingle with the crowd and stay on alert for any trouble.

Maybe Cold Night wouldn’t attack?

Blair gave a mental snort. Yeah, right.

She followed Nat out of the suite and to the elevators. Callie met them, looking gorgeous in a V-necked aquamarine dress that was long, with a split like Blair’s.

Callie grinned. “Looking amazing, ladies.”

“And ready to kick some ass,” Blair added.

Callie winked. “I have a SIG strapped to one thigh and a knife on the other.”

“Sexy and badass,” Nat said.

Together, the three women stepped into the elevator and zoomed to the top of the Glacé Hotel. When she stepped out, Blair stared through the wall of glass windows.

Wow. Manhattan lay before them, draped in the night darkness, lights winking merrily. It wasn’t the in-your-face slap of Las Vegas, but it was still impressive.

As they moved toward the main doors, Blair was thankful her heels weren’t too high. She shook her head. Part of her felt silly going on a mission dressed to the nines, but she knew her black body armor and combat boots wouldn’t blend in.

They stepped through the door.

“Nice,” Nat murmured.

The huge room looked amazing. Decorated in black and red, the organizers had spared no expense. The samurai artifacts were dotted around the room, while guests milled, sipping drinks. Overhead, gorgeous lanterns shaped like cherry blossoms glowed softly.

“Our guys clean up nicely,” Callie murmured.

Blair spotted Lachlan, Seth, and Axel. They were all in tuxedos and looked mind-blowingly delicious. Lachlan looked like he was tolerating the tux, Seth wore it like a second skin, and Axel was smiling, his thick, messy hair making it look like he’d just rolled out of bed.

Several groups of women were watching the men over the rims of their drinks.

Nat strode across the room first. Blair saw the moment the former Delta Force soldier noticed her. Axel stiffened, his mouth dropping open. Hmm. It was going to be interesting to watch when these two finally acknowledged their simmering attraction. Blair grinned to herself.

Smith stomped into view. He was also in a tux, but his bowtie was conspicuously missing, leaving his white shirt open at the top. Typical Smith. He didn’t look happy. He preferred jeans and flannel shirts to suits.

Blair scanned the room, taking in the amazing samurai artifacts once more. But then she zeroed in on the cameras and guards, and other security measures. Then her gaze fell on a tall man in a tux talking with security at the end of the room.

Her chest hitched. Damn, Luke MacKade in a tux was a panty-melting sight.

His thick, brown hair had been tamed, and his tuxedo clung to his long, muscular form. He turned, his dark gaze landing on her. He did a faint double-take, his eyes widening as his gaze drifted down her body. He devoured her with his eyes.

Then the security man started talking to him again, dragging his attention away. But Luke glanced back at her, and Blair shot him a wink before she turned and strode to the bar. She needed something to wet her very dry mouth.

“What can I get you?” the female bartender asked.

“Just a soda with a twist of lime, please.”

Blair turned, resting her elbows against the bar. She took in the camera placements again. She knew that the security team, with great reluctance, had double-checked the guest list looking for any flags. Anyone with possible links to Cold Night. They’d also checked bags and patted people down on entry. But she knew that wouldn’t stop the cult.

“Hello, there.”

She turned and eyed the man smartly dressed in a tailored suit who’d sidled up beside her. He looked lean and fit, and had a cute smile. He wore the suit well. She pegged him for a stockbroker.

“Hey,” she said.

“You’re interested in samurai artifacts?”

“Looks that way, since I’m here.” She tapped her fingers on the bar. “But to be honest, lately my interest in all things samurai has been waning.”

The man’s smile dimmed a little. “I hope the exhibit changes your mind. I travel to Japan on business a lot, and find Japanese history fascinating.”

Blair made a noncommittal sound. The bartender pushed her drink across the bar, and Blair murmured a thank you. She took a sip.

“So,” Cute Stockbroker said. “Maybe I could show you around—”

Suddenly, a big body pressed in behind hers. The brush of hard muscles had heat racing over her skin. Luke’s hand gripped her hip. “Blair, you’re needed.”

Stockbroker looked up at Luke and his face fell. Blair battled back a smile. “Bye.”

Luke didn’t give the man a chance to respond. He took her hand and tugged her away.

“Why didn’t you just club me over the head and drag me off?” she said.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You need to get this possessive thing under control, Detective.”

He was wearing his usual cologne and smelled so good. She breathed in a few lungfuls. Mmm. Eyeing him up close, she saw he’d shaved, but a shadow was already forming on his strong jaw. Too damn handsome. She was never going to tell him just how much he made her chest tighten and her pulse race. He pulled her toward the edge of the crowd, doing a circle of the room.

“So, you needed me?” she said.

“No. I just wanted lover boy to know you were taken.”

She shook her head. Partly because she should be pissed by the possessive behavior, but mostly because she kind of liked it. Luke paused, and they watched more guests in their glittery finest filing in.

Blair had a horrible niggle in her gut. The one that told her that something bad was coming.

“They’ll get in,” she murmured. “With the sword.”

“Yeah,” Luke muttered. “But they won’t be expecting us.”

She looked around, taking in each of her team members. They blended, mostly. Okay, Smith didn’t blend that well, but it wasn’t an issue. She knew they would all do their jobs. Every one of them was ready and alert, waiting for the trouble to hit so they could take it down.

That’s what Team 52 did.

Then she watched, as a man walked boldly through the center of the room.

“MacKade. Man wearing a black suit in the center of the crowd. Black hair, about five foot nine.”

Luke turned, his brows lowering. “I see him.”

The man was swallowed by the crowd. “Lost him.”

Blair touched her ear. “Possible bogey.” She repeated the man’s description.

“Acknowledged.” Lachlan’s voice was a quiet murmur.

Luke slipped his arm through hers and pulled toward the windows. A large glass door was open, leading out onto a large terrace. A few courageous souls were outside braving the cold.

“Can you see him?” she asked.

“No. Let’s check the terrace.” He eyed her dress. “You going to be warm enough?”

“A little cold has never stopped me.”

Luke led her out. Several braziers had been set up, flames flickering. The city’s buildings rose up around them and she heard the din of traffic and honking horns echo from the street below.

“No sign of him,” Lachlan said in his earpiece. “Keep looking.”

Blair breathed in the cool night air. She knew snow was forecast for later and she shivered, goosebumps rising on her bare arm.

Luke paused, his gaze sweeping the terrace. “He isn’t out here.”

Blair looked back inside. Through the glass, she saw a stunning sword resting on a display rack. It was a Masamune. She was pretty certain the revered Japanese sword maker would be horrified at this situation with Cold Night and the Muramasa swords.

She saw movement near the sword and spotted him.

The man with the black hair was moving toward the doorway leading back inside. His gaze locked on hers just as he swung the glass door closed and locked them outside.

“Shit.” Blair pushed forward. “There! He just locked us out.”

Luke cursed, rushing forward.

The man swiveled and, through the glass, they watched as he tossed off his suit coat. Lying along his spine was a sword sheath.

Fuck.

Several people spotted the man and screams broke out inside.

LUKE GROUND his teeth together and tried to open the door. Locked tight.

“Lachlan,” Blair said into her earpiece.

“We see him,” Lachlan responded. “We’re moving in.”

Through the glass, Luke watched the man reach over his shoulder and pull out a katana.

Dammit. The man whipped the sword forward and started swinging, the lights in the exhibit room glinting off the metal blade. The screams grew in intensity and people started running. The man slashed at a woman in a blue dress, cutting her down. Blood splattered on the floor.

The man spun, facing the windows for a second.

Blair banged on the door and Luke pressed his palm to the glass. The man’s face looked demonic. It was twisted, his eyes bloodshot.

“He’s got the Muramasa sword,” she said.

Beyond the man, Luke saw the Team 52 members shoving their way through the crowd. But before Lachlan and the others reached the man, several suited guests leaped on them, attacking them with hits and kicks.

Luke cursed. “There are more Cold Night fighters among the guests.” He watched a man launch into some sort of martial arts against Axel.

“Dammit.” Blair hammered her fist on the glass. “They’re trying to stop Lachlan and the others from reaching the swordsman.” She reached through the slit in her dress and pulled out her SIG. “Step back.”

Luke obeyed, waving at the shocked people on the terrace to move back. He watched as she fired on the door lock. But the damn thing was sturdy. He tested the door, but the bolt was still locked in place.

Gunfire broke out inside. The security guards had joined the fight.

“We’ve got to get in.” Blair reared back and kicked the door. But it still didn’t budge.

“The glass is tempered,” Luke said.

Luke turned around, his gaze falling on a potted plant. He gripped it and lifted it up. “Watch out.”

Blair stepped back. He smashed the heavy pot against one of the plate-glass windows.

Glass shattered, raining down like a waterfall of tiny diamonds. Before he’d even set the pot down, Blair rushed past him, glass crunching under her heels.

“The doors are locked,” someone inside shouted. “We can’t get out of the room.”

“Get down,” Luke yelled at the guests standing, watching with shell-shocked expressions.

“Under the tables.” Blair waved her hands at the ground.

Together, Luke and Blair worked their way through the crowd, shouting at people to get back. They passed the restrooms and he saw several people huddled in the doorways.

He threw out an arm. “Get as many of you as you can get into the bathrooms. Barricade the doors behind you.”

A man nodded and started herding people in.

Blair turned, her gaze moving toward the swordsman. “We need—”

A man flew out of the crowd and slammed into her. She staggered, her gun flying out of her hand. When the attacker stepped back, he pulled out a sword.

Shit. Luke could see it was a katana, but hopefully just a regular one. The man swung and Blair dodged, her silver dress flaring out around her legs. She turned and kicked the attacker.

Suddenly, two more men shot out of the crowd at Luke. He lifted his Glock and fired. One man shouted and fell. The other one leaped on him and his Glock was knocked out of his hand. He swung his fist, punching the man in the face. The attacker retaliated and landed a chop to Luke’s side. He grunted.

A woman in black trousers and a sparkly, black top came out of nowhere, holding two knives. Luke dodged, but another fighter leaped in and landed a punch to his kidneys.

Shit. Grunting, Luke staggered out of range. He spun and found himself side-by-side with Blair.

“Let’s show these fuckers what true power is all about,” she said.

There was his bloodthirsty fighter. Together, they launched at the Cold Night attackers.

Hit. Punch. Kick. Luke ducked and saw Blair land a hard kick to one man’s gut. He flew back and hit a table. It collapsed under his weight.

“Surrender,” Luke said. “You’re under arrest.”

“Never,” the woman yelled. “For Muramasa and the might of the samurai.”

The attackers charged.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

She spun and kicked. Blair felt her heel sink into her attacker’s belly.

How do you like that, sucker? He staggered backward and she moved fast, kicking him again. Her dress slithered around her legs and, for a second, she wished she was in her damn body armor.

Another kick sent the man crashing down, sliding across the floor. He hit a suit of samurai armor and it fell, toppling on top of him.

She turned just as Luke cried out her name.

“Blair!”

A woman came at her. Her red hair was tied up tight behind her head and her martial arts skills were impressive.

Blair dodged the kicks and hits, dancing backward. The woman kicked again, shouting as she threw herself into the blow. Her foot caught Blair’s injured shoulder. Pain exploded and with a curse, Blair flew backward.

But her ass didn’t meet the ground. Luke’s strong hands caught her and then pushed her back onto her feet. She nodded at him, then turned, charging at the woman.

She was taking this bitch down.

Blair swung in and the woman braced. But Blair spun around the attacker and jumped on her back. She wrestled the woman to the ground. The woman struggled and shouted. Blair pulled an arm against the woman’s throat, and leaned back, cutting off her air.

The woman cursed and thrashed. One of her fists beat the tiles, but slowly her struggles slowed. When she slumped down, unconscious, Blair released her.

Leaping up, Blair saw Luke slamming his fist into another attacker’s face. The man went down.

“You okay?” Luke said.

Blair nodded.

Screams intensified nearby, and they both swiveled. The man with the sword was viciously cutting people down.

“We’ve got to get to him,” she said.

But the man was flanked by several more Cold Night fighters. She saw Lachlan and the others scuffling with other opponents.

How the hell could they get close to the swordsman?

She scanned the room, and her gaze landed on a table with food on it. She nodded at it and Luke frowned, then realization flared in his eyes.

Together, they reached the table and tipped it over. Plates and bowls crashed to the floor, smashing into pieces.

“Now,” she said.

They lifted the table up like a battering ram. Then they charged forward.

They mowed through several attackers. A few dived out of the way.

“Keep going,” Luke growled.

They headed toward the man with the sword. He turned, and when he saw them coming, his eyes widened.

He immediately spun and ran, leaping up onto a long display case. He ran along it and then jumped off.

Blair and Luke abandoned the table, heaving it to the side. They gave chase.

The swordsman was racing toward a group of guests. Several women in short dresses, and a man with his arm around an older woman.

The attacker chased them onto the terrace.

Blair charged through the broken window.

The older woman fell with a cry.

“Luke,” Blair shouted.

He slowed, helping the man pull the woman to safety.

Blair shoved the other screaming women aside and leaped in front of them. The swordsman swung the katana and she ducked, the blade sweeping over her head.

She rose and watched him leap up on the railing. He ran along it, until he reached the side of the building. Then he leaped up onto a ledge. He started moving sideways, away from the terrace.

What the hell was he doing? Blair gripped the railing. He had potential victims here on the terrace, but he was abandoning them.

Wherever the hell he was going, she couldn’t let him get away with the sword. She glanced over the railing, and her stomach lurched. She wasn’t afraid of heights, but damn, they were a long way up.

Then she heard music.

She looked past the swordsman as he kept shuffling along the ledge, passing other plate-glass windows. The air rushed out of her.

One floor down and over from her terrace was another similar terrace. Through the large windows flanking that terrace, she saw a wedding reception was in full swing.

Shit. A dance floor had been set up, and a bride in a large, white dress was dancing with her face pressed to her groom’s chest.

No. No. No.

Blair’s gaze whipped back to the swordsman. He was climbing right toward the wedding.

Adrenaline spurted into her veins. She was not going to let him reach that terrace.

She kicked her heels off and climbed up on the railing. Shit, the stone was cold on her feet. She gripped onto the window and then stepped out onto the ledge.

Her dress flapping in the breeze around her legs, she started inching across. Her hair had long ago been ripped from its roll and it whipped around her face.

Blair moved across as quickly as she dared. She hadn’t gone far when her foot hit a slick patch and she slipped. Shit.

She gripped harder to the edge of the window, fighting for balance. She looked through the glass at the hotel room inside. A couple was sitting on the bed, staring at her, wide-eyed.

Ignoring them, she kept moving. She had to catch the bastard.

She got closer to the other terrace. The door to the inside was open, and she could hear the laughter and music from the wedding. When she glanced through the terrace windows, she saw a group of laughing guests and a handful of kids running around through the crowd. She spied two young girls in pretty dresses and some boys in little man suits.

None of them had any clue about the danger bearing down on them.

Blair moved faster. She wouldn’t let any of them get hurt.

LUKE RAMMED another Cold Night attacker facedown on the floor. He jerked the man’s hands behind his back and cuffed him.

He lifted his head and saw Lachlan and the rest of Team 52 subduing the last of the Cold Night fighters. Security had managed to get the doors open as well. That meant help would be here soon.

Where was Blair?

He heard screams and straightened. He charged across the terrace.

Suddenly, a woman appeared in front of him, panicked. Blood spotted over her silky white evening dress. She had a cut across her chest. “Help!”

Luke slipped his jacket off and pressed it against her. “It’s okay. The paramedics are on the way.”

“He cut me… Oh, God.”

“You need to calm down.” He gripped her arm. “Breathe slowly and deeply.”

She nodded, her honey-colored hair slipping from its fancy style. He helped her sit down, leaning back against the wall.

Then he raced over to the railing. He saw a small crowd gathered there, and his gut tightened. He didn’t see Blair’s blonde head.

Then, he saw a flash of silver out on the side of the building. He sucked in a breath. What the hell?

Blair was climbing out across a narrow ledge.

Fucking hell. Luke fought back his fear. He saw the swordsman ahead of her.

He looked down and saw the neighboring terrace. He swore. There was a wedding going on. That’s where the bastard was heading.

His gaze moved back to Blair, her silver dress billowing around her legs like liquid. His heart jammed in his throat. If she slipped…

Suddenly, Lachlan and Axel appeared beside him

Lachlan looked at Blair. “Goddammit.”

Axel sucked in a breath. “This brings back memories.”

Luke frowned at them. “What?”

Lachlan scowled. “Rowan fell off a building when assholes were after her.”

“Twice,” Axel said.

Lachlan glared at his teammate.

But Luke didn’t have time for chitchat. The swordsman was just about to reach the terrace, and Blair was still a fair way behind him.

Then he saw Blair pause, her body tensing.

Oh, no. Luke realized in a split-second what she was going to do.

The swordsman landed on the terrace. No one had noticed him yet.

“No, Blair,” Luke whispered. Don’t do it, you courageous, foolish woman.

“Shit,” Lachlan muttered.

But she bent her knees, braced, and then she jumped off the building toward the terrace.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

In those few seconds, Luke felt like time stood still. Fear greater than anything he’d ever known crashed into him. She flew through the air, her dress flying out behind her.

“She’s too far away.” Axel’s voice was tense.

Make it. Make it, Blair. Luke repeated the mantra in his head, willing her to reach the terrace.

She slammed against the railing, catching the edge with her fingers. She hung there for a second, then she pulled herself up onto the terrace railing.

Air rushed back into Luke’s burning lungs. Beside him, both Lachlan and Axel cursed softly.

She was damn fearless.

Axel slapped Luke on the back. “I pity you man. If you claim her as yours, she’ll give you gray hairs in a few weeks.”

Oh, she was his. Luke watched her crouch on the railing before she launched herself after the swordsman.

“We need to get over there,” Lachlan said.

Luke nodded, not wanting to take his eyes off her. But even more, he wanted to be there by her side.

Not to protect, but to help her.

He jogged after Lachlan and Axel. Inside, the rest of Team 52 joined them.

“Blair followed the swordsman onto a second terrace,” Lachlan bellowed. “We need to get over there. Now!”

They thundered toward the elevators.

Luke’s focus narrowed. Get to Blair. He had to get to her. He couldn’t lose her. He sucked in a breath. He couldn’t lose the woman he loved.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Blair raced inside and surged through the crowd. The wedding guests’ screams echoed in her ears.

Ahead, she saw the man swing the sword. A young man in a suit jumped back, arms windmilling, and bumped into a group of women. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

The swordsman advanced on them.

Oh no, you don’t. Blair sprinted forward and kicked him in the lower back. He stumbled, before turning and growling. He swung the katana at her. She ducked, and circled around an empty table. She grabbed one of the chairs and lifted it. The sword came at her again, and she hefted the chair up.

Clang. Metal rang on metal.

The man stepped back, raising the sword above his head. His face was flushed, his lips twisted in an ugly scowl. He rushed at her and she kept the chair up, blocking his hits.

He drove her back across the room and back out onto the terrace. The cold wind whirled around them and Blair gritted her teeth. Then her back hit something. She turned her head and looked down at the city below. Shit. He’d pinned her against the railing.

Blair heaved, shoving the chair at him. It slammed into his head and he went down on one knee.

She glanced around to an older woman standing nearby. She was clutching a cigarette and watching the fight with horrified eyes, her mouth open.

She was also wearing a black silky scarf with her dress.

“Hope you don’t mind if I borrow this.” Blair unwrapped the scarf and yanked it from the woman’s neck.

Then she turned back to the swordsman.

He was still on his knee, shaking his head to clear it. She quickly moved in front of him and wrapped the scarf around his body. She cinched it tight, keeping his sword arm locked down against his side. Then kneed him in the face.

He fell backward and she jumped on him, taking him flat to the ground. She pressed her knees hard into his chest.

“I’m not going to let you hurt anyone else,” she said. “This ends here.”

He reared up, slamming his head into hers.

Ow. Pain exploded in her forehead and she fell off him. He scrambled above her, and punched at her with his other hand. Blair growled and punched back.

Then he sprang to his feet. Blair leaped up and she watched him move his wrist, tilting the sword up. It sliced through the scarf.

He smiled at her.

Blair wiggled her fingers. “You still want to dance? Fine. Let’s see your moves.”

He rushed at her, the sword whirling through the air. They danced back across the terrace and moved back into the ballroom.

“It ends here,” she said. “The police and my team are closing in. You have nowhere to go. Show some samurai honor and give up.”

“No. The power of the samurai is endless.”

She snorted. “Yes, it is. But you’re not a samurai. You’re just a samurai wannabe.”

His face twisted. “The sword of Muramasa is powerful. It demands blood.”

He swung at her again and she ducked, kicking out his knee. He stumbled.

“It’s nothing to do with power, and everything to do with science. Muramasa included a chemical when he made the sword. It’s poisoning you. You’re infected. That’s it.”

“Lies.” With a roar, he swung again, the sword whirling in a deadly arc.

Blair dodged, swallowing a curse. Then she heard shouts and the sound of running footsteps.

She looked up and saw Luke and her team charging into the room. They circled around them and she heard them telling people to get back, getting them to move to safety.

The swordsman rushed at her again, and she ducked and weaved. When she could, she darted in. She landed a kick to his chest and a punch to his side. Her next blow hit a kidney and he staggered.

They circled each other and Blair saw they were near a long table topped with a huge ice sculpture of a couple entwined in an embrace. Hell, the damn thing was taller than she was.

As the swordsman lunged low, striking out with the sword, Blair jumped up on the table and rammed her good shoulder into the ice sculpture.

It tilted and fell.

It crashed into the swordsman, knocking him down, and pinning him to the ground.

Yes. Blair leaped down, the skirt of her dress flaring, and crouched beside him. His mouth was opening and closing. He was winded and trying to recover.

“You’re done,” she said. “You won’t hurt anyone else.”

“Blair.”

Luke’s voice. He moved in behind her, touching her shoulder.

She looked up. “Good timing, Detective. Showing up just as I took him down.”

His lips quirked, but his gaze never left the swordsman. “Knew you could handle yourself.”

Damn him. He was making her gooey again. And now she wanted to get him somewhere so she could tear that tux off and use her teeth on him.

Lachlan crouched down on the other side of the man. Blair nudged the sword away from the swordsman.

“The samurai are pure power,” the man croaked.

Blair rolled her eyes. “You’re a murderer. You knew what you were doing when you picked up that sword and came here.”

Lachlan handed over some zip ties. She took them and reached for the man’s hands.

“Now you’ll feel the true power of the samurai and Muramasa’s sword.”

The man moved his hand. He grabbed the sword blade, blood blooming on his palm. He shoved the hilt into Blair’s hand.

Her fingers reflexively closed on it and energy bolted through her body like an electric shock.

She tried to let go, but her fingers were locked onto the hilt.

No.

LUKE SAW BLAIR CONVULSE. He frowned and that’s when he saw the hilt of the sword in her hand.

“Blair!” he roared.

Lachlan shoved the swordsman down. “Fuck.”

Blair rose, stepping back, the sword held by her side. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

Luke rose, holding his hands out. “Baby—”

The breeze whipped her hair around. “I…I can feel it…”

Luke held out a palm to her. “Stay calm. Fight it, baby.”

When her eyes locked on his, those familiar bi-colored eyes, he saw the fear in them.

“Luke.”

Damn, he wanted to touch her. His hands curled into fists.

“Talk to her,” Lachlan said.

“It’s going to be okay, Blair.”

She made a choked sound. “I can’t let go.”

“I’ll help you. We’ll help you.”

“I can feel the urge to use it running through me.” The sword trembled in her grip. “Poisoning me.”

“Fight it. You’re the strongest person I know. Badass to the bone.”

She took another step back. “It wants blood.”

“It’s just a reaction. You know that. It’s just an inanimate object.”

She sucked in some deep breaths, her chin dropping to her chest. “I…can’t.”

Suddenly, she launched forward, raising the sword. Luke went stiff. He didn’t want to hurt her. He saw the deadly blade slash through the air.

But Blair didn’t attack him. She shot past him. He spun and saw two Cold Night fighters break out of the crowd. She twirled, swinging the sword with beautiful, deadly skill, and cut them down.

Shit. “Plan?” he yelled at Lachlan.

“No fucking clue.” Lachlan’s worried gold gaze was glued to his friend. “Smith, Callie, make sure there are no more Cold Night fighters in the crowd.”

Blair stood over the bodies, and Luke saw she was straining against the infection.

He wasn’t letting this take her. He stepped forward. “Blair—”

“Get out.” Her voice sounded like rust. “Get everyone out, while I still have some control.” Her tortured gaze met his. “That means you, too.”

His jaw clenched. “I’m not leaving you.” He jerked his head at Lachlan. “You and the team clear the room.”

Luke moved closer to his woman and went down on one knee. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not leaving you. We’re both leaving here together. We have things to do after this mission.”

A sob ripped from her throat.

“I want you to move in with me. I want to fight with you, love you, wake up with you every day in my bed.”

She stared at him, sucking in harsh breaths.

Around him, Luke was dimly aware of Lachlan and his team shuffling out the remaining wedding guests.

“I remember when I first saw you,” Luke said.

“You scowled at me the entire time.” Her eyes met his for a fleeting second.

“I felt like I’d been beaned in the head with a bat. You were so strong, so attractive, so damn independent. I knew I wanted you then, but I was too afraid to risk it.”

“I felt the same,” she murmured.

“Stay with me.” He waited until her eyes met his again. “Stay with me, Blair. I’m not losing you.”

Suddenly, there was movement behind him, and another Cold Night man rushed at them. He was wearing a server uniform and had been hiding behind some tables. The man slammed into Luke and they skidded across the floor. Luke wrestled to get on top, jabbing his elbow into the man’s throat.

But the man landed a punch to Luke’s mouth and he tasted blood. His head rang.

They rolled across the floor and Luke managed to shove the man away. The Cold Night attacker was about to move, but Blair appeared. She swung the sword down.

The man scrambled back with a yell. But her face was set and she went after him. The sword flashed again and she slashed the blade across his gut.

Eyes blinking, the man grabbed the blade, staring at it in shock. Blood pooled on the ground beneath him.

She yanked the sword back and the man collapsed.

Then she turned and looked at Luke.

His gut clenched. Her eyes were bloodshot.

“I can’t…control it anymore.”

“Blair.”

A sob came from her and she raised the sword. “I don’t…want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

She nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Fear snaked through him and he rose. “Blair—”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

To fight back the sob trapped in her throat, Blair bit down on her lip. She needed to swing the sword, to slice, to kill.

She felt the power roaring inside her. Her blood pounding through her veins. The sword felt perfect in her hand.

Again, she tried to let go but her fingers wouldn’t obey. With a yell, she charged, swinging the katana.

She watched Luke and Lachlan duck, and a part of her cried inside. She was trying to stop, these two men meant the world to her. She didn’t want to hurt them.

Fighting the overpowering impulse, she kept her next swing slow and sloppy.

But the ugly compulsions inside her were increasing. Her conscious thoughts were scattering.

She was losing herself.

Luke. Her gaze fell on him. He was everything—so damn handsome, smart, good.

Blair spun and crashed the sword into a table. The next moment, she ripped it out of the wood, her chest throbbing. She spun, crouching with one leg to the side and the sword held in front of her.

Luke’s brown gaze met hers over the blade. He watched her intently, his gaze locked on her.

“I love you,” she said, her voice shaky.

She saw his shoulders move, like he’d taken a jolt.

“You made me fall in love with you.” She sucked in a breath. “And I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“Blair—”

She turned, running through the tables. She sprinted out onto the terrace. She was almost to the railing when something tackled her from behind.

She went down on the ground, the sword smacking against the tiles. She turned with a snarl and saw Luke had his arms wrapped around her thighs.

Scowling, she wrestled against him. They rolled across the floor. She held the sword tight.

With a surge of strength, she got on top of him, straddling him. She jerked her arm and they both froze, the sword pressed against his throat.

He didn’t move. “Blair. I’m here.”

She pulled in some sharp breaths.

“Blair.” She looked up and saw Lachlan step closer.

He had no weapon in his hands. They rested by his sides and his golden gaze was on her face. Her best friend, her fellow Marine, her boss. He’d been there for her so many times before.

“You’re loved,” Lachlan said. “You’re tough as hell, and you’ve survived so much. You can fight this and get through it. You saved me, when everyone else left us for dead.”

She shook her head. “The sword, it’s too strong.”

“Nothing is as strong as you,” Luke said. “Fight it, baby. I know you can.”

She gave another sob, sensing more people moving closer. She looked up and saw Seth, Callie, Axel, and Smith. Her friends. Her teammates. The people she cared about most.

She wouldn’t hurt them.

With a wave of strength, she shoved Luke away, leaped up, and raced toward the railing.

“Blair!” Luke roared.

She reached the railing and jumped onto it. The wind tore at her dress and hair.

“Blair, no!” Luke sprinted toward her. “You are not fucking sacrificing yourself. You can fight this.”

“I can’t…” Her body hurt so much. Her skin was stinging all over.

“I love you, too,” he said. “I’ve never said that to a woman before. I can’t lose you. When my mother died, it wrecked my father. Like how losing Will tore your family apart. Losing you, it would wreck me. The pieces would never go back together. I want you here, beside me.”

His words tore through Blair, and her hands dug into the hilt of the sword.

“I love everything about you,” he said. “I’m not letting you leave me.”

“And I won’t hurt you, or anyone else.” She bent her knees, bracing herself.

Luke sprang, moving fast. He grabbed her by the waist and yanked her off the railing. The sword cut his arm.

Damn the man.

They crashed to the ground.

LUKE WRESTLED BLAIR. Damn, she was far stronger than usual. Her face was wild, her eyes bloodshot.

“You are not dying here, dammit,” he snapped.

She made another harsh sound, her knee jabbing into his gut. “The sword wants more blood.” She lifted it.

“Then I’ll give it blood, but it won’t be yours.”

Luke reached up and grabbed the sword over her hands…and pulled it toward him. He wouldn’t lose her. No matter what.

The tip of the blade sunk several inches into his shoulder.

He hissed. Damn, that hurt.

Blair cried out. “No!”

She released the sword, rushing to clutch his injured shoulder.

“Axel,” Lachlan barked.

“On it.” A heavy cloth wrapped around the sword. Axel yanked it out of Luke and out of sight.

Luke groaned. Shit. The pain was like fire.

“Callie!” Blair cried out.

The medic appeared on the other side of Luke, tearing open her backpack.

Blair, pale-faced and shaky-looking, cupped his face. “Damn you, MacKade.”

“What? You can sacrifice yourself, but I can’t?”

Still straddling him, she leaned down and kissed him.

He kissed her back, biting her bottom lip. “It’s just a scratch.”

She let out a small sob. “Right. Bet you’d say that even if your arm was amputated.”

He managed a laugh.

She stroked his jaw. “I love you.”

“God, I love you too, baby.”

He’d been so afraid of losing her. He knew his nightmares would be filled with the sight of that sword in her hand for a long time to come.

“Well, it didn’t hit anything vital.” Callie pressed some absorbent pads to the wound. “But you’ll need some stitches.”

Blair shuddered.

“That was ballsy, MacKade.” There was admiration in Axel’s tone.

Lachlan nodded and in the Team 52 leader’s eyes, Luke saw gratitude.

“Excuse us a minute,” Luke said.

He sat up, Blair putting pressure on his injury. He grabbed her tight, cradled her in his lap, and pressed his mouth to hers.

She made a small husky sound, her arm wrapping around him. She kissed him back—wild and deep.

Cheers and wolf whistles erupted around them. When Luke lifted his head, he saw all of Team 52 grinning. Nat had appeared as well, no doubt having talked her way through the guards. Tears shimmered in her eyes.

Voices echoed from inside. Luke turned his head and saw a group of New York police enter the ballroom.

He sighed. “Looks like it’s time for me to do my thing.”

Blair scowled. “You’re injured.”

“Callie can give me something so I can get on my feet and do my thing. And it’s time for you to do your thing.”

She tilted her head, her fingers running over his stubbled jaw. “What’s that?”

“Disappear and leave me with the dead bodies to clean up and explain.”

There was no heat in his words this time. She smiled at him. “You’re so good at it.”

With a growl he kissed her again, then nipped her chin.

“And this time, I’ll make it worth your while…later,” she murmured.

His hands clenched on her. “I’ll hold you to that, cupcake.”

They pushed to their feet and as soon as he released Blair, she stumbled.

He reached for her and she pressed a hand to her head. “I’m a little lightheaded.”

Callie wrapped an arm around her. “It’ll probably take a little while for the effects of the nanopoison to clear fully.”

Axel appeared, sweeping Blair up into his arms. “I’ve got you. Hang on, my lady.”

Blair scowled. “You are not carrying me out of here.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, I—”

“He’s carrying you,” Lachlan said, interrupting her. “That’s an order.”

“Blair.” Luke cupped her jaw. “You climbed the outside of a skyscraper, battled a madman, and then fought off the effects of a cursed sword. You’re a badass, we get it. Let Axel carry you.”

She huffed out a breath. “Oh, fine.” A tiny smile appeared. “Meet you at the X8?”

He rubbed a thumb across her bottom lip. “I’ll be there.”

WHEN THE ELEVATOR doors slid open, Blair stepped into the base at Area 52. She let out a sigh of relief.

She had her arm around Luke’s trim waist, and his arm was draped over her shoulders. They were still a bit battered, but thankfully Callie had pumped them full of some heavy-duty painkillers on the trip home.

Seth had refused to let Blair fly, so she’d spent the flight snuggled into Luke’s side. No complaints from her.

Behind them, Lachlan and Seth exited the elevator, carrying a large, black containment box between them. The last Muramasa katana was inside.

She heard heavy footsteps and looked up to see Ty striding down the hallway, his white coat flaring out around his powerful body.

“Glad to see you guys.” Ty’s gaze ran over the team before landing on Blair. “Told you not to touch the sword.”

Blair smiled, then flipped him the finger.

A faint smile tipped the man’s lips before he stepped closer and gave her a quick hug.

“Just a few bruises and scrapes,” Blair said. “But we made it.”

Luke’s hand squeezed hers. “The best thing, we didn’t lose anyone in New York.”

That had been an unexpected boon that had made Blair’s day. Although several people were still in the hospital with terrible wounds, none had been fatal. Thankfully.

Ty took the box, nodding at Lachlan. “I’ll take care of this. I want to run a few more tests, and then I’ll have Arlo lock this away for good.”

“Excellent work,” a deep voice said.

Blair turned her head and saw Jonah standing at the edge of the group, his hands in the pockets of his dark-blue suit pants. He nodded at them. “You did good work recovering the sword. Now it can’t hurt anybody else.”

“Well, MacKade is the proud owner of twenty stitches in his shoulder,” Blair said.

Luke smiled. “The scar will be a reminder not to piss you off.”

A faint smile tipped Jonah’s lips. “I’m taking it that I can assume that our relationship with the LVMPD got a little closer?”

“If you mean that Blair is mine and I’m in love with her, then yeah,” MacKade answered.

Blair smiled up at him. God, he was going to turn her to complete goo and completely ruin her badass reputation.

“And the samurai cult?” Jonah asked.

“New York’s finest took in all the Cold Night members that were part of the attack. They’re questioning them and looking for anybody else that might be operating inside the US. They’ll coordinate with me and my detectives here in Vegas. There could be other cells, but we’ll weed them out. Without any scientifically enhanced swords, they hopefully can’t cause too much trouble.”

Jonah nodded. “Which is just how we like it.”

Axel snorted. “Until the next drama.”

“Everyone get some well-earned rest,” Jonah said.

Soon everyone dispersed, and Blair led Luke down the corridor to her personal quarters. They were both hobbling a little, exhaustion like a heavy blanket on her shoulders.

Arlo appeared, a scowl on his grizzled face. “Mason, heard you climbed a skyscraper and wielded a nanotech cursed sword.”

Blair smiled at him. “All in a day’s work, Arlo.”

The older man made a noise. “You get any more stitches?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Nope. But MacKade got twenty.”

“She cut me,” Luke said.

Arlo rolled his pale-blue eyes. “You two deserve each other.” He wagged a finger at them. “Stay out of trouble.”

As Arlo strode off, Blair pressed her head to Luke’s shoulder. “I’m too tired for trouble. I could sleep for a hundred years.”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “And I’ll sleep right beside you.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Blair rolled off Luke, her orgasm still shivering through her body. She flopped on her back beside him. Oh, she loved his big, comfy bed.

“We should meet for lunch every day,” she drawled.

He stroked her skin, his eyes closed. “It’s never long enough.”

Yes, in the two weeks since their return from New York, their little meet-ups for lunchtime quickies had become a habit when she was in the city. And it was never long enough.

Still, he’d managed to go down on her until she cried out his name, then fucked her fast and hard. She had no complaints.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She took a second to admire all that sleek, bronze skin.

“I’ve got to go soon,” he said. “Clements is picking up a suspect for an interrogation on this latest case we’re working. Burglary ring that’s killed a few homeowners.”

“Hope you bring ’em down, Detective.”

“Oh, I will. I’m also planning to stop by the courthouse today and see Salvador Morgan try to slither off his charges.”

She grinned. Baxter didn’t quite have it right. Her man was a hundred times more determined than a Rottweiler with a bone. He’d worked tirelessly to link Morgan to the theft of the swords and to the attack on her in her apartment. Not even Morgan’s slick lawyers could get him off.

She’d stood beside him at the memorial for the fallen SWAT officers, and that had only driven him harder to ensure Salvador Morgan got what he deserved.

“And Baxter is back in today, on light duties,” Luke added, almost as though he’d read her thoughts.

“How is Baxter?” Blair asked.

Luke glanced at her. “Better.”

Her gaze fell on the scar on Luke’s shoulder. It was healing up nicely. She crawled toward him and pressed her lips to his shoulder. He reached over and tugged on her hair.

“I have to go, too,” she said. “I have a meeting at the Bunker.” She pressed her lips to his, taking her time to kiss him thoroughly. It was no surprise when she felt a fresh trickle of desire. It didn’t matter how much they had sex, she always wanted more of this man. “And I need to drop by my apartment and grab some clean clothes.”

Luke’s hand shot out and he gripped her bicep. “I’m sick of this two houses thing.”

They did a lot of back-and-forth, sometimes cooking dinner and staying at her place, but most of the time they stayed at his. She liked his pool and his bed.

Things were good. Great. She didn’t want that to change.

She licked her lips. “It’s not that bad—”

“I have plenty of space in my closet, Blair. And I think your artwork would look pretty good on my walls.”

She stilled. “Are you asking me to move in?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head. “I was going to ask you after Christmas. I don’t know why you look so surprised. I love you, Blair. This is a natural progression.”

She swallowed. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

“Hell, I wanted you to move in two weeks ago. I don’t need any longer to know that you’re the one for me. And in case you need time to chew on this, down the track, I’m going to pick out a ring for you. Then I’ll propose, we’ll get married, and then I’m hoping to make a family with you. To make a future together.”

Blair could barely draw a breath. She wheezed. “Well, you don’t muck around, do you, Detective?”

He pulled her close. “Not with what’s most important to me. Every day, I’m reminded that life can be cut short. Every day, I remember my mother, and it makes me want to hold on tightly to what truly matters.”

“Okay,” Blair said.

His gaze narrowed. “Okay, you heard what I said? Or okay you’ll move in?”

“I’ll move in.” God. Her belly fluttered.

He yanked her close and kissed her.

“Be forewarned,” she said. “I’m messy.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know.” His gaze went to the floor that was littered with her discarded clothes.

“And I eat a lot.”

Now he smiled. “I know. It turns me on watching you eat.”

She grinned. “Then I guess I’m moving in.”

LUKE WAS HAPPY AS HELL. Blair was moving in, Salvador Morgan was going to spend the next few years behind bars, and even a shitty interrogation where they didn’t get the information they needed couldn’t dim his mood.

He was driving towards Griffin’s to meet Blair and Team 52 for a beer.

He found a parking spot close to the bar, and when he reached the door, he saw his woman through the window.

Tough. Gorgeous. So strong. She had her head tossed back, laughing at something Smith had said.

All his.

He walked in and Team 52 called out their greetings. Their women were there as well—Rowan, January, and Kinsey. Nat, Brooks, and Ty had also joined the group, and were sitting on stools at the bar.

Blair appeared in front of him. “Hello there, Detective.”

She gripped the lapels of his shirt and kissed him.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured against her lips.

“Grab a beer. I’m just about to kick Axel’s butt at pool.”

Axel sauntered past. “You’re dreaming, chica.”

Luke ordered a beer and sat at the bar. He watched Axel and Blair chalk their cues, both of them trash talking. Then they started what looked to be a very competitive game of pool. He shook his head.

“You’re a damn lucky man, MacKade.”

Luke lifted his head and looked at Lachlan leaning against the bar.

“I know.”

A faint smile touched the Team 52 leader’s lips. “I like the way you look at her.”

“She challenges me, she sees me, and makes me feel every emotion under the sun. Angry one minute, happy the next. Pissed one second, and then complete contentment.”

Lachlan nodded. “Yep, love.”

“Takes one man in love to notice another.”

Lachlan turned his head, looking down the bar at the red-headed Rowan who was chatting with January. “That’s the truth.” Then he looked across to the pool table. “Make her happy.”

“I intend to.” For the rest of his life, if she let him.

“Good.” Lachlan leaned in and lowered his voice. “Otherwise, I’ll track you down and break your bones.”

The man’s tone was one step above frigid. It was enough to have a grown man break out in a sweat.

Lachlan sipped his beer, then tipped the bottle in MacKade’s direction. “And no one will find your body.”

Rowan appeared, leaning into Lachlan’s side. “Lachlan, sweetheart, how about you don’t threaten the police detective with murder?”

“He gets me.”

“I get you,” Luke said.

“Well, you’d better make sure Blair doesn’t hear you,” Ty suggested from his stool. “Or she’ll beat you both up.”

Luke turned his head, looking Blair’s way and smiling.

Damned if Ty wasn’t right. And damned if Luke would have it any other way.

Ty

TY SAMPSON LIFTED his hand as his teammates called out goodbyes. They were all outside Griffin’s, heading for their vehicles.

Hands in his pockets, he strolled down the sidewalk. Across the street, he spotted Blair and her detective. MacKade had Blair trapped against the side of his Explorer, kissing the hell out of her. They were completely wrapped up in each other.

Ty shook his head and made his way to his car.

Blair Mason was the last person he’d expected to go soft over a man. Still, he couldn’t argue that she and the detective looked damn happy.

Ty slid behind the wheel of his sleek, sporty Lexus and headed toward his place. He turned down a narrow alleyway lined by warehouses and touched the remote attached to his dash. A roller door moved upward, and he drove inside and killed the lights.

It was a single-story warehouse that had once been a body shop. When he’d bought the place, he’d renovated the front half into an apartment, but he’d left the back as a workshop with parking.

He climbed out, his boots echoing on the scarred concrete floor. Back here, he had a small lab and workshop, where he tinkered with some of his designs. He did most of his work at base, where he had a fully-equipped and decked-out laboratory. But even when he was home, he still liked to fiddle when the urge hit.

Lights clicked on. Ahead was his living area. It was cordoned off with brick and glass walls. A compact kitchen with glossy, dark granite sat in one corner, and his large, black-leather couch dominated the space.

Then he stopped. He scanned the shadowed workshop. Something wasn’t right.

He looked back toward his living area. Then he heard a noise. A door closing?

He reached into the back of his jeans and pulled out his SIG Sauer.

Someone was in his place.

Ty crept through the living area and past the kitchen, his boots silent on the polished concrete floors. He walked down the hall leading to the bedrooms—guest room, office, and his master.

He stopped at the threshold to his bedroom.

Even without the lights on, he saw it looked as it always did—warm woods and shades of gray, his big bed in the center of the room. It was neatly made, since he’d been at Area 52 all week. He was usually at the base more than he was home.

Cautiously, he walked into the room. There was no sign of anyone. He stalked toward his large, walk-in closet.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and a figure in black surged out.

Fuck.

The intruder slammed into Ty and they hit the ground, rolling across the wooden floor. Ty grunted, wrestling to get hold of the man.

Then he felt breasts smashed against his chest.

A woman. What the hell?

An elbow connected with his jaw, snapping his head back. Ty saw stars and let out a stream of curses.

While he was dazed, his intruder leaped to her feet and ran.

Dammit to hell. Ty jumped up and gave chase.

He crashed through the living room, seeing no sign of her.

He heard something crash in his workshop and swiveled. When he charged out into the workshop, he saw her running along the top of one of his work benches. She ran straight for one wall, leaped, then clung there for a moment and began to climb the bricks. Like a damn spider.

Rushing toward her, he watched as she ascended to one of the high windows up near the ceiling. She shoved the window open, then glanced back. She wore a half mask over her face, but their gazes met for a second.

Ty felt a jolt.

Then she climbed out the window.

“Dammit!” He ran for the small door set in the roller door, shoved it open, and sprinted into the alley. He skirted around his warehouse, searching for his intruder.

Nothing. He paused. He didn’t even hear footsteps, just the distant sound of a siren.

Jaw tight, he went back inside, locking up behind him. He needed to check his goddamned security system. All those windows were wired, but she’d bypassed his system somehow.

He moved through his space, checking to see if anything was missing. Or if his intruder had left anything behind.

A quick search turned up nothing. Ty spent extra time in his lab and finally released a breath. Nothing appeared out of place. He’d still pull out his scanners and check for bugs or cameras.

He pressed his hands to his hips and ground his teeth together. Nothing looked out of place, nothing looked like it was missing.

Ty hated anyone in his space, messing with his things. It didn’t matter if it was his home or his lab.

Who was she? And what the hell did she want?

“SORRY, I’M LATE. SO LATE.” Blair barreled through the front door of Luke’s house, juggling the cardboard box she was holding.

Not Luke’s house, their house.

She took a deep breath. She’d moved in, but she was going to need a wee bit of time to adjust. She looked at the wall and saw one of her favorite bright paintings on the wall. Luke had spent an evening hanging all of them around his house. Their house.

“Hey.” Luke appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing jeans, a blue shirt, and bare feet.

She just stared at him, marveling at the fact that he was hers. “I love you.”

His face softened. “Good. Now come on, I have dinner on.”

Blair kicked her shoes off. “It was my turn to cook.”

“I don’t mind feeding my woman. Even if she eats like a hungry trucker.”

He slid an arm around her and steered her through the doorway. Delicious smells hit her, and her stomach growled. A mound of food sat on the kitchen island. She grinned. Yeah, her man liked feeding her.

Then she paused. A huge Christmas tree stood in one corner.

“What’s that?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “Pretty sure that’s obvious. Christmas is only a few days away. I picked this up on the way home.”

She sucked in a breath, pulling in the piney, green scent of the tree. She swallowed. “I haven’t had a Christmas tree since before Will died.”

Luke’s face softened. “Well, you do now.” He flicked a finger at the box she was holding. “What’s this?”

“I stopped by my apartment to grab the last of my things. The agent’s got tenants moving in soon.”

Luke peered at the box. “This looks like it hasn’t been opened in a long time.”

She nodded, pulling in a breath and setting it out on the island. “It’s some of Will’s stuff.” Her heart began to thump hard in her chest.

Luke looked at her, then reached out and gripped her shoulder. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

She pulled off the old, brittle tape holding the box closed.

The first thing she pulled out was a framed photo of her and Will, aged six and five. She stared at it, seeing her brother’s wide grin. She touched it, running her finger over his face.

“You two looked alike,” Luke said.

She nodded. The next thing she pulled out was a chunk of plaster with a small handprint embedded in it. Will had written his name on the back in large, untidy letters. “He gave this to me for my birthday.”

Luke gave her shoulder another squeeze.

The next thing she pulled out was a colorful painting done in swirls of bright colors. It was pretty darn good for a five-year-old.

Luke ran a finger over it. “It looks a lot like—”

“All the paintings I bought.” She smiled. “I spotted one of them in a gallery window a few years back, and instantly thought of Will. I contacted the artist and purchased everything she had.”

The final item looked like a small, wooden Christmas tree, haphazardly painted. It had glitter stuck to it, and a tiny ribbon on top.

“Another piece of Will’s handiwork.” Sadness washed through Blair. She wondered what kind of man her brother would have been, where he would have gone…but then she let it go. He would forever be this smiling boy who’d loved her. “I don’t want to keep him locked up anymore.”

“He’d be so proud of his big sister.”

Luke took the framed photo and walked over to the mantel, setting it beside another picture. A framed photo of Luke’s mother.

“And the decoration can go on our tree for our first Christmas,” he said.

Their first Christmas.

Together, they nestled Will’s decoration into the branches.

Blair pressed her face to Luke’s chest. His solid arms wrapped around her. Safe and comforting.

But with the heat of her man pressed against her, the sadness slowly receded and something else filled its place. She was alive and life went on.

She shifted against him, her fingers curling into his abs.

“How about a swim?” She started backing them toward the back door.

He raised a brow. “I think your swimsuit’s upstairs.”

She started undoing the buttons on his shirt. He gripped her T-shirt and yanked it over her head.

“Swimsuits are overrated,” she murmured.

They stumbled out the door, tearing off the rest of their clothes. The winter air was cool on their bare skin, but Luke lifted Blair off her feet, striding down into the pool’s shallow end.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, her lips on his while his hands kneaded her ass.

“Luke? Is that you?”

Meredith’s voice sounded from the yard next door and Blair growled in Luke’s ear. “She still hasn’t taken the hint that you’re taken. I’m damn well living here.”

Luke’s chest shook with silent laughter. He turned his head, kissing Blair deeply, his tongue sliding against hers.

“Keep quiet,” he said.

Blair scowled. “Why?”

“So Meredith won’t hear me fucking you.”

With a quick thrust, his hard cock slid deep inside her. They’d both had their check ups and Blair was on the Pill, so they’d dispensed with condoms.

She tried to stifle her moan. Then he started thrusting inside her, fast and hard, and she made noise. A lot of noise.

If Meredith heard it, Blair didn’t care one little bit.

“Get there, Blair.” His fingers dug into her ass, helping her work up and down on his cock. Water splashed against the pool edge.

“God, yes. I’m going to…” Her orgasm hit and she threw her head back, grinding down on him. Pleasure splashed over her in a hot rush.

Luke lodged deep and groaned through his own release. They were both panting when he hauled her out of the pool.

Satiated and happy, she dropped her head against his shoulder. He set her down and wrapped a towel around her.

Mmm. She watched as he swiped the towel over his naked body. She was looking forward to a delicious meal, then she was planning to drag her man to bed early.

Suddenly, she heard a phone ring and she groaned. “That’s mine. It’s Lachlan’s tone, so it probably means something’s up.”

Luke leaned down and rubbed his thumb across her lips. “Looks like my woman has to go save the world.”

She smiled. “Yep.”

Then Luke’s phone started ringing. He frowned. “That’s work.”

She rose up on her toes and kissed him. “And my guy needs to go keep the law and order.”

He tugged on her hair. “Be safe.”

“Always. See you later at home?”

“Always.”

I hope you enjoyed Blair and Luke’s story!

Team 52 will continue with Ty’s story, Mission: Her Safety, as he tracks down his intruder. Read on for a preview of the first chapter.

Don’t miss out! For updates about new releases, free books, and other fun stuff, sign up for my VIP mailing list and get your free box set containing three action-packed romances.

Visit here to get started: www.annahackett.com

PREVIEW - MISSION: HER SAFETY

With the flashlight clamped in her teeth, she finished unfastening the screws and carefully nudged the panel aside.

Shifting carefully in the cramped ventilation duct, River Elliott-Hall pulled her small snake camera from her pocket. She lowered the flexible cord down through the hole she’d just opened up, and pulled her phone out. The screen blinked to life, showing a full view of the room below.

All clear.

Smiling, she tucked the camera and her phone into the pockets at the sides of her tight, black leggings. She gripped the edge of the hole and then tipped forward, rolling slowly down. She let go, landed in a crouch, then rose.

Thanks for the training, MI6.

Thinking of her old job made her belly hard. She shut those thoughts down instantly, and focused on scanning the long room that housed the art gallery.

Her gaze skated over all the priceless paintings on the walls and sculptures resting on ornate pedestals. The wealthy owner of the Constellation Casino in Las Vegas had spared no expense for the private art gallery on the top floor of his casino. In addition to the artwork, there was a lot of imported Italian marble and gold-plated trim.

Despite Chadwick Alton’s massive bank balance, the man had no taste. Her lip curled. She also knew he was one step below scum of the Earth for a variety of reasons.

Focus, River. Stomach tight, she tucked back a curl that had escaped from her hair tie. She kept her mass of tight curls pulled back securely when she was working. It didn’t pay to have your hair in the way when you were breaking and entering.

She pulled a small, metallic ball from her pocket and then rolled it across the marble floor. It slowed, then broke apart with a click. Blue light shone out of it, illuminating several red laser beams that crisscrossed the hall, part of the gallery’s high-tech security system.

The ball beeped. The lasers flickered off.

River smiled. No fancy laser dancing for her. She preferred using the tech she paid a small fortune for to make her job a little easier.

She moved silently down the gallery, shining the light on the paintings. She had a job to do, and she prided herself on her one-hundred-percent success rate.

The gallery was a long rectangle, and on one side, curved windows gave a view of both Las Vegas’ blinking lights and the vast desert beyond. Being a new casino, the Constellation wasn’t right in the heart of the Strip, but rather, to the northern end.

On the other wall, she spied several well-known and expensive paintings on the wall.

But none of them were the stolen masterpiece she was looking for.

At the end of the room, she stopped in front of the pride of the collection. A dramatic Rubens that she knew was worth just over a hundred million dollars.

River carefully lifted the large frame off the wall and gently set it down. Behind it, sat a sleek, metallic, vault door embedded in the wall.

She pulled her streamlined backpack off and pulled out gear. She pried off the keypad covering the electronic lock and plugged in her sweet little codebreaking device.

With a touch of a button, she set her code-breaking program running. She’d hired a reclusive Russian scientist with an off-the-charts IQ to create it for her.

She watched the numbers tick by on her screen.

Beep.

The vault opened.

River looked at her chunky Rolex. She had two minutes until the guard did his rounds.

She pulled the door open and stepped into the vault.

More paintings were stacked against the wall, and the shelves at the back of the vault were packed with boxes that she knew contained jewelry and other precious artifacts.

River quickly looked through the paintings.

Then she cursed, her stomach curdling. The painting wasn’t here.

She’d been hired to do a job, an important one. Bloody hell. She looked at her watch again. Time was almost up.

She exited the vault and closed it. Using extreme care, she set the multi-million-dollar Rubens back in place. Then she turned and jogged down the gallery. At the end, she jumped up, and grabbed the edge of the hole. She pulled herself back up and then set the panel back in place.

She paused, and a moment later, she heard the footsteps of the guard.

River smiled. Then, she turned and started crawling through the vent.

After a few tight squeezes, she dropped down through a panel that she’d loosened earlier and into a maintenance closet. She found the bag she’d stashed behind some mops. She slid her smaller backpack inside, then quickly wrapped a red scarf around her neck and pulled on a beaten leather jacket.

Then she pulled the hair tie out of her hair, letting her curls spring free. The tight coils bounced around just above her shoulders.

She slid out of the door of the maintenance closet and closed it behind her. She sauntered down the empty corridor and then heard the click of heels. A casino cocktail waitress, wearing a tiny slip of sparkly black and some feathers, passed her, carrying a tray. The woman gave River a tired nod.

A second later, River stepped out into the casino. As she sauntered across the main floor, the rush of noise and color hit her—the tinkle of slot machine tunes, laughter, the clack of a roulette wheel.

She moved like she had all the time in the world. Her MI6 partner, Jack, had taught her that the best way to sneak in where you didn’t belong was to always look like you did belong. Don’t rush, River. Own it. Her throat tightened.

A man sitting at a blackjack table lifted his head and his gaze caught hers. Appreciation flared, his gaze drifting down her long body.

River shot him a wide smile and a wink. Then she was clear of the tables and moving across the vast Constellation lobby.

Finally, she stepped outside, shaking her head at the approaching valet. She jogged down the front steps and out on the Las Vegas Boulevard. Two minutes later, she moved down a side street and into the lot where she’d left her rental car.

With a bleep of the locks, she slid inside the sleek, sporty Mercedes. The engine vibrated to life, and River zipped out of the parking lot. She joined the traffic on the Strip, and glanced in her rearview mirror. Her gaze stayed on the shiny, black façade of the Constellation, with all the twinkling lights that lit up the side, just like a constellation of stars.

She blew out a breath. Dammit, that had been her best lead. And deep in her bones, she’d wanted it to be Alton. Wanted to expose the charlatan under the expensive suit.

Don’t. Get. Personal.

Another of Jack’s lessons. She followed the street signs and got onto the highway heading east. As she moved onto the four-lane highway, she sped up, gunning the Mercedes’ engine. Back in London, she didn’t bother owning a car, so she liked to get the most out of her rentals.

Zipping around several cars, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, working out her next steps.

All she could do was follow up on her less-promising lead.

Team 52.

River had heard a lot of rumors about the team. She’d read some classified documents on them back at MI6. Black ops. Highly classified. From what she’d pieced together, their job was to safeguard powerful historical artifacts.

She’d been shocked as hell to discover that civilization had been a lot more advanced than most people, and the history books, believed. Humans had done amazing things before the flooding at the end of the last ice age had ruined it all and acted like a reset button. But a few things had survived.

Now, if something got uncovered that had unexplained abilities, Team 52 swooped in.

No doubt the American government had a nice little vault somewhere filled with fascinating, interesting things for them to test and experiment with. She had no doubt the British government had one too.

It sounded crazy, but she’d seen some inexplicable things as an agent. Hell, she saw some mind-blowing things now that she was freelance, as well.

Jack would have laughed at it all.

Jack. Her hands clenched on the wheel. Her mentor, the man who’d taught her everything, was gone. Long gone.

River pressed her foot down on the accelerator.

Soon, she left the lights of Las Vegas behind. Ahead, stark mountains rose up, nothing like England’s green, rolling hills. She turned off the highway and ended up on a narrow dirt road. She stopped at a gate, looking beyond it at the rustic cabin in the distance.

She knew that two Team 52 members called this little cabin home. From her recon, she also knew they were currently away from home and busy with work.

After turning her car around, she climbed out and quickly climbed over the fence. She’d barely taken two steps when her phone beeped. With a low curse, she pulled her high-tech phone out. Dammit, it looked like Smith Creed had a fancy detection system set up around his cabin.

River swiped the screen of her phone and pulled up an app. She touched a button and jammed the security system.

Then she walked toward the front door of the cabin.

“Woof.”

She froze and watched a huge, blue-gray Great Dane lope around the side of the cabin.

Fuck.

“Hey, sweetie,” River said.

The dog growled at her.

Hmm. Luckily, she was always prepared for any situation. She opened a small pouch on her belt and pulled out some jerky. She tossed it at the dog.

He bristled, but when she didn’t move, he sniffed the jerky suspiciously. Then he licked it and gave her what she could only describe as a dirty look.

River stiffened, but then the dog wolfed the jerky down in a couple of gulps.

She tried not to tap her boot as she waited. She wondered briefly if there was enough sedative in the jerky for such a big dog.

The Great Dane kept his gaze locked on her and she boldly returned it. I’m the alpha here, buddy.

A second later, the dog took a wobbly step forward. He let out a whine, then dropped to the ground. She forced herself to wait and make sure he was out.

River moved over and checked him. He was breathing fine and she released a breath, then allowed herself a few strokes of his fur. She traveled too much to have a pet, but she’d always wanted one.

“Sorry, big guy.”

Then she snapped on some gloves and pulled out her lockpicks. It took a little while to get through the locks on the cabin door. Muttering a curse, she made a mental note to remember that Creed did not muck around with his security.

The door swung open and she stepped inside. She liked it. It was rustic, with lots of stone and wood, but touches of cute. There were some perky, yellow flowers on the kitchen counter, and candles lined the shelves.

She quickly moved through the space, searching for anything relevant to her hunt for the stolen painting.

She saw a framed photo sitting on the mantel. She studied the picture of the huge man—Creed was a former Navy SEAL—and the smaller, gorgeous blonde beside him. The woman had a movie-star smile, and she was looking up at the man beside her like he was her reason for breathing. And the way Creed kept her tucked in tight under his arm stated his claim.

They were clearly in love. River shook her head. She gave them a year. Love was one of life’s biggest cons.

She made short work of searching the rest of the cabin. There was nothing about their work. Nothing about the Salvator Mundi.

Bugger. River shoved her hands on her hips. She’d known it was a long shot—none of the other Team 52 residences she’d searched had yielded anything either.

Carefully, she walked out and locked the door. As she skirted the sleeping dog, her boots kicking up dust, she ran through her options.

She was too cautious not to finish searching the rest of the team’s places. There was a small chance that the team had taken the Salvator Mundi. The trail she’d managed to follow from the museum that owned the painting led to Las Vegas. And Las Vegas was the home base for Team 52.

She’d already checked the condo belonging to the team’s leader, Lachlan Hunter. His security system had been top-notch and she’d been forced to fork out extra money for some more gear to crack it. After that, she’d searched the house where the team’s second-in-command, Blair Mason, lived with her police detective lover. And River had also checked the converted warehouse belonging to the team’s scientist.

The man had almost caught her. River sniffed. It had been a little too close for comfort. Especially since he blew all nerdy scientist stereotypes out of the water. Dr. Ty Sampson was big, muscled, and in top shape.

Shaking off her near miss, she focused on the places she still had to check—former Delta Force operator, Axel Diaz, the team medic, Callie Kimura, the team tech guy, Brooks Jameson, and former CIA-agent, Seth Lynch.

Whatever it took, she would find the Salvator Mundi. Finding people and things was what she did, and she was the best. She never failed.

Well, she had once, and her partner had paid the price.

Jaw tight, River headed back to her rental. Failure wasn’t an option. Never, ever again.

Dr. Ty Sampson lifted his goggles onto the top of his head.

He stared at the small, wooden box resting on the bench in his lab. It had just clicked open.

Incredible.

After several hours of careful work, he’d managed to open the old box that had come from a dig in India. And inside, was a large, blue gemstone. This had been hidden from human eyes for hundreds of years.

He narrowed his gaze. He guessed the stone was about seventy carats, and likely a blue diamond—but he’d have to run several tests to confirm it.

And also to see what else it could do.

That was his main role at Area 52. He helped study the artifacts that the team brought in. Some, so he could neutralize them and ensure they stayed safely locked away. Others, to research their powerful abilities and determine if there were ways to utilize them.

Advanced cultures had once possessed ancient technology that was mind-boggling. It was just unfortunate that so much of it had been destroyed, leaving humans to develop so much all over again.

Although, seeing what the assholes who got their hands on the pieces of old tech wanted to do with it—generally to promote their own foul agendas and line their pockets—it might be best if most of the artifacts stayed locked away in the Area 52 warehouse.

When any of the artifacts proved too dangerous, they went straight in the warehouse, under lock and key.

Ty straightened, tension running along his back and shoulders. He moved his neck and heard it crack, then he blew out a breath. Usually, being in his lab and absorbed in his work soothed him.

Not today.

He was still thinking of the intruder he’d had at his place the other night.

Who was she? What the hell was she doing in his warehouse?

After he’d chased her off, he’d searched his renovated warehouse—both the half he’d converted into an apartment and the half that housed his home lab. Nothing had been missing. And she’d left nothing behind.

Ty scowled. He hated people in his space. He hated people in his lab.

And more than anything, he hated a mystery he couldn’t solve.

Ever since he was eight, and had made his own lab in the corner of his parents’ giant, eight-car garage, he’d loved working, loved solving problems. For Ty, there was nothing better than pulling things apart to see how they worked, then putting them back together and making them better.

His lab had horrified his parents. They’d returned from their summer vacation in the south of France, and looked aghast at the mess he’d made. But Ty had fought for it, and they’d finally allowed him to keep that little space.

He thought of his mystery woman again. He wanted to solve this mystery. Who the hell was she?

His gaze ran down the long benches in his lab—a far cry from that crowded, cobbled-together space in his parents’ garage. His lab at Area 52 was top of the line.

Next to the ancient box he’d just opened was a large ceramic jar. It had been confiscated from a terrorist cell in Iraq. It was old and they’d likely dug it up from some ancient ruin in the desert. Scans showed something particularly volatile inside, but Ty was still trying to ascertain the safest way to open it.

At the far end of the bench, a prototype prosthetic arm rested on two metallic clamps.

All of the members of Team 52 were former military, and many of them had suffered terrible injuries that had ended their careers…until Director Grayson, the man in charge of Area 52, had given them a second chance. And Ty had given them all high-tech prosthetics.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. He should be working on that new prototype he planned to use on the team’s leader, Lachlan Hunter. Or on some of the other protype gadgets he had in the works.

That was his second role at Team 52. He put his penchant for inventing to good use. Jonah Grayson gave him a near-unlimited budget. All the team’s high-tech gadgets and vehicles were Ty’s designs.

He had a lot to do, but today he was just too amped up to get anything useful done.

The lab door opened, and he heard the click of heels on the tile floor. He lifted his head and watched Dr. Natalie Blackwell, Team 52’s archeologist, enter.

“Hi, Ty.” She tossed her long, black hair over her shoulder. It was in loose waves today. As usual, she was dressed in a tight, gray skirt that hit below her knees, topped with a crisp, pale-pink shirt.

He grunted.

Nat rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you, too.” Her soft, Australian accent did nothing to hide her sarcasm. She was gorgeous, smart, and Ty enjoyed working with her.

He grunted again.

“I see you’re in an extra cheery mood today.”

“I’m working.”

Ignoring him, she wandered closer, her gaze falling on the box and blue jewel. She gasped. “You got the box open!”

“Yeah.”

She walked past the stone jar, and suddenly, it moved. Ty straightened.

The lid rose up all by itself.

He frowned. “What the—?”

Flames flashed out of the vase.

Ty dove on Nat. She cried out and he knocked her to the ground, covering her body with his. He felt a flash of heat on his back.

She gave a short scream, then Ty was up, dragging her away from the flames.

Once they reached the far wall, they both turned, staring in horror at the flames licking the lab bench.

Ty lunged for the high-tech extinguisher he’d designed himself attached to the wall. He lifted the nozzle and started spraying the flames. At the same moment, the experimental fire suppression system he’d designed for the lab came on. It sprayed a gentle mist of suppressant in the exact area of the fire.

It was the first thing Ty had worked on when he’d been recruited from DARPA—the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency—to join Team 52. The last thing he needed was his inventions, lab equipment, and the priceless artifacts being doused in water that could damage them.

The flames died and Ty straightened. Fuck. He set the extinguisher aside.

“Well, I guess we know what that jar does, now.” Nat pushed her tangled hair out of her face and pulled on the hem of her shirt. Nothing ruffled Nat for long.

But he heard the tremor in her voice. He tipped her chin up and looked into her dark eyes, checking she wasn’t injured.

“Okay?” he asked.

She nodded and rose to her full height. “Thanks for the rescue, Ty. I’m surprised you jumped on me and not one of your prototypes.”

He tapped her nose. “I can rebuild prototypes.”

She smiled. “I think I’m going to get a drink.” She sighed. “I wish Jonah would allow alcohol on the base.”

“You’ll survive.”

She poked her tongue out at him and headed out.

Ty picked up the phone and made a call to maintenance. He needed them in here to fix the bench and fire damage, and take away the ruined gear.

It wasn’t long before three men in black uniforms and tool belts appeared.

“Fix the fire damage, but don’t touch anything else,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Ty crossed his arms over his chest and as one young man got too close to Ty’s equipment, he scowled. The man grew more and more nervous under Ty’s stare.

One of the other men cleared his throat. “It might go quicker if you left us to it.”

Ty released a breath. “Fine, but remember—”

“Don’t touch anything else. We know.”

Spinning on his heel, Ty headed for the computer room. If he couldn’t work in his lab, then he’d go and harass the team’s computer guru about what he’d discovered about Ty’s intruder.

Because more than anything, he wanted to know who the hell she was, and why she’d been in his place.

The door to the comp room whispered open, and the man standing at the large, central table raised his head. Brooks was a computer geek, but he also had a muscled body and ink running down his arms.

Today, the former Navy Intelligence officer wore a T-shirt that stretched over his chest with “Support the troops” written on it, and a picture of a stormtrooper helmet. Ty shook his head.

Brooks smiled. “Hey, Big T.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that.”

Brooks grinned at his tablet, before turning to look at the screens covering the walls.

That’s when Ty noticed the camera footage that was playing. Team 52, all in their black body armor, were standing in the empty fuselage of a large cargo plane.

“Three, two, one go!” Lachlan yelled.

The team all leaped out of the open Hercules one at a time.

“Training session,” Brooks said. “HALO dive.”

Ty watched the feed from Lachlan’s helmet cam, as the team moved in formation in the air. They were all talking calmly through their earpieces, even though they were jumping out of a perfectly good plane.

“Any updates on the woman who broke into my place?” Ty asked.

Brooks frowned. “Nothing, man. Sorry.” He turned and swiped his tablet. An image appeared on a second screen.

“She messed with your internal security cameras. She’s damn good. But I did catch this image from an external camera. But this was it.”

Ty leaned forward. It was a picture from the outside of his warehouse. It was more shadow than anything, but he could just make out the impression of a tall, long body.

Her head and face were covered, so he had no idea what her hair or features looked like.

Who the hell was she?

“No prints,” Brooks continued. “Like I said, she’s good.”

Yes, she was. This was no regular thief. She was well-trained, experienced, and after something.

He’d watched her scale the damn wall in his warehouse lab like a spider and climb out a tiny window.

On the main screen, he watched Team 52 make their landing somewhere in the desert. As they scooped up their billowing parachutes, he heard Axel making a joke about always hitting the spot.

Team 52 did dangerous, important work. There were a lot of bad people out there who wanted to get their hands on artifacts that had the power to help them do terrible things. The team took their job seriously.

Ty turned his attention back to the shadowy image of the woman. It was likely that she was one of those people.

He’d find her, and whatever the hell she was doing, he’d stop her.

Team 52

Mission: Her Protection

Mission: Her Rescue

Mission: Her Security

Mission: Her Defense

Mission: Her Safety

Mission: Her Freedom

Mission: Her Shield

Also Available as Audiobooks!

PREVIEW: THS AND NORCROSS SECURITY

Want to learn more about Treasure Hunter Security? Check out the first book in the series, Undiscovered, Declan Ward’s action-packed story.

One former Navy SEAL. One dedicated archeologist. One secret map to a fabulous lost oasis.

Finding undiscovered treasures is always daring, dangerous, and deadly. Perfect for the men of Treasure Hunter Security. Former Navy SEAL Declan Ward is haunted by the demons of his past and throws everything he has into his security business—Treasure Hunter Security. Dangerous archeological digs – no problem. Daring expeditions – sure thing. Museum security for invaluable exhibits – easy. But on a simple dig in the Egyptian desert, he collides with a stubborn, smart archeologist, Dr. Layne Rush, and together they get swept into a deadly treasure hunt for a mythical lost oasis. When an evil from his past reappears, Declan vows to do anything to protect Layne.

Dr. Layne Rush is dedicated to building a successful career—a promise to the parents she lost far too young. But when her dig is plagued by strange accidents, targeted by a lethal black market antiquities ring, and artifacts are stolen, she is forced to turn to Treasure Hunter Security, and to the tough, sexy, and too-used-to-giving-orders Declan. Soon her organized dig morphs into a wild treasure hunt across the desert dunes.

Danger is hunting them every step of the way, and Layne and Declan must find a way to work together…to not only find the treasure but to survive.

Treasure Hunter Security

Undiscovered

Uncharted

Unexplored

Unfathomed

Untraveled

Unmapped

Unidentified

Undetected

Also Available as Audiobooks!

For some sexy, action-packed contemporary romance, don’t miss the Norcross Security series. Check out the first book, The Investigator.

The only man who can keep her safe is her boss’ gorgeous brother.

Museum curator Haven McKinney has sworn off men. All of them. Totally. She’s recently escaped a bad ex and started a new life for herself in San Francisco. She loves her job at the Hutton Museum, likes her new boss, and has made best friends with his feisty sister. Haven’s also desperately trying not to notice their brother: hotshot investigator Rhys Norcross. And she’s really trying not to notice his muscular body, sexy tattoos, and charming smile.

Nope, Rhys is off limits. But then Haven finds herself in the middle of a deadly situation…

Investigator Rhys Norcross is good at finding his targets. After leaving an elite Ghost Ops military team, the former Delta Force soldier thrives on his job at his brother’s security firm, Norcross Security. He’s had his eye on smart, sexy Haven for a while, but the pretty curator with her eyes full of secrets is proving far harder to chase down than he anticipated.

Luckily, Rhys never, ever gives up.

When thieves target the museum and steal a multi-million-dollar painting in a daring theft, Haven finds herself in trouble, and dangers from her past rising. Rhys vows to do whatever it takes to keep her safe, and Haven finds herself risking the one thing she was trying so hard to protect—her heart.

Norcross Security

The Investigator

The Troubleshooter

ALSO BY ANNA HACKETT

Norcross Security

The Investigator

The Troubleshooter

Team 52

Mission: Her Protection

Mission: Her Rescue

Mission: Her Security

Mission: Her Defense

Mission: Her Safety

Mission: Her Freedom

Mission: Her Shield

Also Available as Audiobooks!

Treasure Hunter Security

Undiscovered

Uncharted

Unexplored

Unfathomed

Untraveled

Unmapped

Unidentified

Undetected

Also Available as Audiobooks!

Eon Warriors

Edge of Eon

Touch of Eon

Heart of Eon

Kiss of Eon

Mark of Eon

Claim of Eon

Also Available as Audiobooks!

Galactic Gladiators: House of Rone

Sentinel

Defender

Centurion

Paladin

Guard

Weapons Master

Also Available as Audiobooks!

Galactic Gladiators

Gladiator

Warrior

Hero

Protector

Champion

Barbarian

Beast

Rogue

Guardian

Cyborg

Imperator

Hunter

Also Available as Audiobooks!

Hell Squad

Marcus

Cruz

Gabe

Reed

Roth

Noah

Shaw

Holmes

Niko

Finn

Theron

Hemi

Ash

Levi

Manu

Griff

Dom

Survivors

Tane

Also Available as Audiobooks!

The Anomaly Series

Time Thief

Mind Raider

Soul Stealer

Salvation

Anomaly Series Box Set

The Phoenix Adventures

Among Galactic Ruins

At Star’s End

In the Devil’s Nebula

On a Rogue Planet

Beneath a Trojan Moon

Beyond Galaxy’s Edge

On a Cyborg Planet

Return to Dark Earth

On a Barbarian World

Lost in Barbarian Space

Through Uncharted Space

Crashed on an Ice World

Perma Series

Winter Fusion

A Galactic Holiday

Warriors of the Wind

Tempest

Storm & Seduction

Fury & Darkness

Standalone Titles

Savage Dragon

Hunter’s Surrender

One Night with the Wolf

For more information visit www.annahackett.com

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’m a USA Today bestselling romance author who’s passionate about fast-paced, emotion-filled contemporary and science fiction romance. I love writing about people overcoming unbeatable odds and achieving seemingly impossible goals. I like to believe it’s possible for all of us to do the same.

I live in Australia with my own personal hero and two very busy, always-on-the-move sons.

For release dates, behind-the-scenes info, free books, and other fun stuff, sign up for the latest news here:

Website: www.annahackett.com