​I'm thrilled to bring you this bonus short from Greed, the third book in the Goddesses of Delphi series. Sybil Lawrence, Polly Thanos's partisan from the novel meets her match in Devlin McShane, a seriously hot investigator in the District Attorney's office. I hope you enjoy this short story.

“Sybil! You have to stop fidgeting.” Polly Thanos hissed, her low tone holding the serrated edge of frustration.
“I can’t,” I muttered, uncrossing my right leg, then crossing my left one over it. “This deal is huge. It could mean a promotion for me if I catch these peckerheads with his hand in the cookie jar.”
“Well try.” Polly narrowed her eyes at me.
And that eye squint came with a mental pinch on my bicep. “Freaking unnecessary,” I muttered as I rubbed my fingers over the tender spot the Muse of Sacred Song had conjured up on my arm. I let my thick blond hair fall over my face to hide my scowl from Polly. She was a goddess after all. She could probably turn me into a chimpanzee.
“Why not look at the scenery instead?” Polly prompted, cocking her head to the left. “There’s a hottie sitting at the bar and he keeps looking at you. Wait! Don’t look.” A smile danced over her lips. “Okay, now.”
The dark haired man resembled some of the other partisans I worked with. Except that he wasn’t blond the way we all were. He had a muscular build, fast smile, and even though he was seated at least fifty feet from me, his eyes were a vivid blue. I was a sucker for blue eyes. Hmm, I bet they’d be intense during sex. He caught me ogling him and tossed me sexy smile. Heat blasted up my cheeks. I’m sure they turned bright red, the curse of being blond.
He lifted a glass filled with amber liquid and saluted me.
It was a gaze and a smile I could drown in. If I played my cards right, maybe I could … No! I had to focus. Polly frowned slightly as I diverted my attention. I shifted my shoulders and drew a fingertip through the condensation on my water glass.
We were seated at a window table in The Copa Room, waiting for my mark to show up. I’d been following Randy Edwards’ money trail for so long, the only thing I didn’t know about him was boxers or briefs. He and the station’s sales manager, Mark Cassidy, had been quietly syphoning funds from the radio station he worked for and making deposits in a numbered account in Geneva. The station’s owner had contacted me to conduct a discreet audit, which is how I knew the guy was more crooked than an Alpine road.
I’d gotten smart and asked Polly, a freaking genius about finance, to cast wards on the WDEL’s account. In return, she insisted on being present at the take down to secure a scoop for her employer, Channel Seven.
She’d done me a solid, not only in this but when she’d saved my bacon with my other employer. Mars had been pissed that I’d told Polly who I was, and then gifted the ability to communicate telepathically to Ian Sommers, Polly’s boyfriend. Mars had wanted to demote me but Polly stood firm, even insisted on a promotion and pay raise for me as her immortal bodyguard and glorified babysitter. My job duties had doubled lately as the demented Pierus had come out of retirement to challenge Polly and her sisters in his attempt to take over Olympus Enterprises.
When’ I’d agreed to having her present, it had seemed a good idea. Now, she was just cramping my style.
A shadow crossed our table and I looked up in time to see Edwards pass in front of the window. The guy epitomized smarmy. His over-long, lank hair was greased back from his high forehead. A pinkie ring with a diamond the size of Pennsylvania glinted on his hand in the mid-day sun. His puffy, artificially tanned skin was etched with deep wrinkles. His slug-like lips were pursed together like he was whistling.
Fine for now, but he’d be whistling a different tune shortly.
The front door swung open and Randy pranced over the threshold. I gripped the arms of my chair, digging my fingers into upholstery nails holding the buttery leather in place. Months of work about to pay big dividends.
It was show time.
Edwards paused in front of the hostess desk and surveyed the dining room. Even though it was well past the noon hour, the restaurant was crowded with business people and ladies who lunch.
As the hostess escorted him past, my gaze locked on the hottie’s at the bar. I blinked to break the spell between us, then watched her lead him to a dark booth at the rear of the restaurant.
Damn! I hadn’t noticed Mark Cassidy seated there before. There was a door to a walled terrace garden at the rear of the restaurant. That must have been how he’s slipped in without me noticing.
“Shit, Cassidy’s already here.” I scooted my chair back, preparing to rise.
“Hi,” a voice from over my shoulder stopped me cold.
I dragged my attention from the scum buckets in the back booth and looked behind me. Oh, goddess. The hottie wasn’t just hot, he was a tall drink of water. My gaze traveled up his torso to his face. I wanted to talk to him, but now wasn’t the time. What I wouldn’t give for the power of thrall right now.
I stood, turning slightly to see him, and keep the crooks in sight. “Um, Polly? A little help here?”
“Oh, you want a nudge?” Polly laughed, clearly delighted by my predicament.
“Yes,” I snapped.
“Should I tell him to come back later?”
The guy’s smile faltered during our conversation about him as though he wasn’t standing right there.
“Yes,” I snapped again, sending an apologetic look at Hottie McHottie. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of something. Can I get back to you?” I arched a brow at Polly.
It was beyond me how she managed to keep smiling while she squinted her eyes and shoved a suggestion into the man’s mind.
His blue eyes turned cloudy and he shifted, but didn’t move away.
In the back, a large envelope traded hands.
Hottie’s eyes cleared. “I’m Devlin McShane. I was hoping I could buy you a drink.”
Why wasn’t he moving off as the Muse had suggested? “Polly, what have you done?” My voice was a breathy rasp, not the authoritative growl I was going for.
“Oops, looks like my nudge didn’t work.” I wish I had a shovel to smack that smirk from her face.
I expressed a harsh breath, and split my focus between the devastatingly handsome guy in front of me and the nefarious assholes behind me. “Devlin, I’d love to have a drink with you. I’m working right now. Maybe later, okay?”
Edwards, in a shocking display of no common sense, peeled the flap back and slipped a stack of bills free of the envelop. No, he didn’t just fan that money against his lips.
I stalked toward the rear, intent on lowering the boom. Footsteps…Polly’s and Devlin’s, pounded behind me. I was most certainly going to have words with Polly when this was over.
“Randy Edwards?” I called out as I neared their booth. “I’d like a word, please. Actually, the owner of WDEL-FM would like an explanation of where his profits are going.”
Edwards sneered and shoved the money deep in the large yellow envelope.
Devlin gasped behind me. “Hey, is this guy embezzling from his employer?”
“What’s it to you, punk?” Edwards lip curled more.
Cassidy looked ready to bolt, but Polly had sidled around me and was blocking his exit from the bench.
Devlin laughed, the sound sexy and magical. “I haven’t been called punk since we egged Mrs. Markwell’s house when I was twelve. Back before I became an investigator in the District Attorney’s Fraud Division.”
Okay, this would be where I’d laugh out loud and maybe jump Devlin. If the situation warranted it.
Edwards blanched.
I seized the envelope and tucked it behind my back, out of reach.
Which didn’t stop Edwards from trying to reach it.
What did stop him was Devlin’s large hand wrapping around the guy’s arm. The sight of his long fingers started an irresistible tingling in all my girly parts. I hadn’t felt anything even close in this lifetime.
Devlin’s knuckles went white. He shook his head. “No touching. I’ll haul you up on assault charges as well as embezzling.”
Edwards collapsed against the wooden back of his bench and buried his face in his hands. Cassidy actually burst into tear.
“Sack up,” Devlin ordered, his tone strict enough to earn immediate obedience. He swiveled his attention to me and Polly. “One of you care to tell me what gives?”
Polly inclined her head, indicating I should take the lead on this one.
I was right about being able to drown in his gaze. Finding words was difficult when he was looking at me with such heat glowed in his gaze. I let my eyelids drift shut, hoping to break the spell.
I sped through an explanation. Devlin asked several probing questions, and by the time I was done outlining my evidence, he had his palm out for the envelope I’d left behind my back. I laid it on his outstretched hand, my fingers brushing his warm skin. Tingles between my legs flared again, the electric desire undeniable.
While he looked at the documents, I made a call to the station owner, and Polly started typing notes into her phone. When she activated her camera and trained the lens on Edwards, he draped his napkin over his head, hoping to hide his identity.
“This is pretty damning evidence,” Devlin commented.
I looked over his shoulder. “That’s not even the good stuff.” Damn, he smelled good, like spice and fresh air. “I can have copies of everything we’ve collected couriered to your office.”
The slow smile spreading over his lips made me want to bite him. I bit my own, instead. And don’t think he didn’t notice. His smile grew twice as big. “How about you have that drink with me and we can discuss the case then?”
“I’d take that meeting.” My smile matched his.
“I got that on record. I can just see the headlines now.” Polly laughed as she shoved her phone in her back pocket and sauntered away leaving me behind with two seriously stupid criminals and the incredibly hot Devlin McShane.
 

I have a new short based on Ken Hillerman, Nia's partisan guard in Mayhem. I had a lot of fun writing this story and drew on some of my experiences from working in a shopping mall and a healthclub during tornado season. I hope you enjoy this fun short story.
​

​When I had walked into the Olympiad ninety minutes ago to start my workout, there’d been a hint of storm scudding low on the horizon. But the sun had been shining and it was otherwise, a perfect autumn afternoon.

I’d had a little extra time since The Muse of Astronomy, Nia Thanos, had defeated Pierus in the ongoing hostile takeover attempt of her family’s firm. She and her fiancé, Thomas, and his niece Hailey were on a picnic somewhere by the river trail.

Since she didn’t need my particular brand of protection at the moment. I’d decided to play hooky from both my jobs, as a climatologist with Olympus Enterprises and as Nia’s partisan protector, and hit the gym.

Now, despite the fact it was just past two in the afternoon, the building was downright gloomy. One of the benefits of being a demi-god was the ability to communicate with other gods without a cellphone, which I’d left in my locker. So I sent a mental message to Nia, instructing her to watch the sky and think about cutting the picnic short. Her ‘yes, mother’ response was immediate and sassy. I wanted to reply that it wasn’t polite to shoot the messenger, but I kept that thought to myself.

Climbing the stairs to the cardio level to finish with a punishing session on the stair climber, I passed Alex, another regular gym rat I considered a nodding acquaintance.

“Hey, Ken. You sticking around, or gonna split before the storm hits?” Alex asked.

As I mopped my face with the gym-supplied towel and shot a glance to the windows that made up one wall. Lightning flashed damn near the grounds and in that instant, a funnel cloud dropping out of the bank of storm clouds to the west.

“Uh—you’re too late, Alex. You’d better ride it out here,” I called over my shoulder as I raced toward the lobby to let the staff know they had a safety problem.

I skidded to a stop at the front desk. The employee glanced up. The kid’s nametag read Benji.

“Can I help you?”

A woman I recognized as the new Pilates instructor jolted to a stop at the desk in the next instant.

“Funnel cloud forming just to the west of the gym. Can you make an announcement for members to get to the shelter?”

The woman gasped.

The teen’s eyes went wide as he cast a frantic glance to the glass front doors. “I don’t know what to say?”

Beside him, on the desk, a weather radio squawked to life with an emergency alert.

“That thing has been screeching for the past fifteen and I can’t find the manager on duty.” The pasty-faced teen complained as he bounced on his toes. His knuckles were white as he waved a two-way radio in my face.

I held up my hand to catch all the pertinent information on the alert. Did the quick review of the map I carried in my head. The funnel I’d seen was on a direct course to us.

“Jeez, Benji. Hand me the phone and dial up the PA system.” The woman standing next to me demanded.

Her thick, auburn hair was caught up in a ponytail that swung on her shoulders as she pushed up on her toes, laid her torso on the granite counter and reached for the handset of the phone. High cheekbones, plump lips, and buckeye brown eyes created an exotic, sensual look. Her limbs were lithe but short—the crown of her head barely reached the top of my shoulder.

For the first time, I sensed I was in more danger of losing my heart to this woman than I was from the impending storm.

“How long do you think we have?” She directed her question to me.

At least this lifetime, and if I could convince Zeus, maybe he’d give me many more with this woman. Not the question she’d asked. “Uh…maybe five minutes. Probably less.”

Her brows knit as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Benji—intercom!”

Two short chirps sounded from the PA system just as the wind gusted hard, rattling the windows and forcing one of the outer doors open.

“May I have your attention?” The woman’s sultry tones echoed in the cavernous space, her tone practically demanding that everyone listen as this was some serious shit. “The National Weather Service has issued a Tornado Warning for our area. Please proceed immediately to the designated tornado shelters in the locker rooms on the lower level. Remain calm. We’ll notify you when we receive the all clear.” She pressed the disconnect button and dropped the handset back into the cradle. Thunder boomed so loudly, even I cringed.

Benji started to move away. She stopped him. “Hang on. I need you to monitor the radio and let me know when they lift the alert.”

The door banged open again. The kid jumped backward. “Hell no, Monica. I’m going to the shelter.”

“Get the radio and get under the counter.” Monica ordered. I loved a take-charge kind of gal, and this chick’s tone told everyone she was top dog for the moment. She grabbed a walkie-talkie from the cradle. “I’m not shitting you, Benji. Lock two of the front doors, but leave the third open, in case anyone is running in. Then get under the counter and stay put. You’ll be safe under there.”

She looked at me. “Can you help me? There are kids in the childcare. The employees will need help herding them to the locker rooms.” She moved away, as though she knew I’d follow.

Which, given my natural instinct to protect, I did. I chased her down the curving hallway to the large double doors at the end.

Monica was already tapping in the entry code on a security pad next to the door. “What’s your name?” she asked breathlessly.

“Ken.”

The exterior doors at the left end of the hall shook in their frames. Debris scraped across the roof, driven by the gale-force winds.

“Better hurry,” I offered as nicely as possible.

She blasted me with a fuck-you look and jerked the door open. The young employees were herding a line of fifteen kids toward the exit.

“Got the roster?” Monica asked.

The one employee who looked to be college age passed the clipboard to her. Monica  pasted a smile on her face, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, spread her arms wide and asked the youngsters, “Who wants to take a walk with me?” Her voice was filled with bright, happy, and an undertone of urgency.

The room illuminated garish white as lightning flared. A couple of the kids whimpered. One of the kid center employees did as well.

Nearest me, a cute little cherub with a riot of blond curls whimpered. When I bent to pick her up, she wrapped her arms tightly around me, burying her face in the crook of my neck. Another little guy attempted to climb me like a tree, so I snatched him up as well.

“Let’s go, kids. Stay in line and listen to what your teachers tell you.” Monica picked up another kid, grasped a second older child by the hand, and led the tiny person parade through the exit.

Like a bunch of lemmings, we all followed her lead. She escorted us to the stairwell, pausing to hold the door until I got there and took over. Wind whistled around the building, and a particularly loud boom of thunder shook the foundation. Little Blondie tightened her grasp, her arms crushing my windpipe, making it difficult to suck in necessary oxygen. My hands were too busy holding her and the other kid to do more than tighten my grip on them, nonverbally telling them I’d keep them safe, while crooning soft assurances to both of them.

Mother Nature was an unpredictable bitch. She might shift her powerful winds away from the gym at the last minute or drop the full force of the fury right on top of us.

When the last employee and his two charges made it through the door, I let it bang shut, cutting the wind and thunder noise in half. But windows in the stairwell still allowed the flashes of lightning. There was no telling where one flash ended and another began. The short hairs on the back of my neck lifted and I smelled the tang of ozone.

As I pounded down the stairs after Monica, a question crossed my mind. Could this storm be more shit Pierus had thrown at mortals? He’d tampered with the weather in the first challenge, and in the second, Nia’s challenge, he’d caused a massive eruption on the sun. The lousy bastard. We’d been in a lull between the contests, so it was unlikely, but the god was a sneaky asshole.

I got a mental communiqué from Nia, informing me they were okay. They’d taken shelter at a restaurant near the river. I sent her my thanks for the update as I burst out of the stairwell clutching two kids tight against my chest.

“This is the secured room for the kids,” Monica shouted as she flung open the door to the Pilates studio.

There were no windows in the concrete room, which was a good thing, but every wall was covered in mirrors. Not so good. I set my two kids down, dragged their arms from around my neck and urged them to sit. What would have been nice would be to have one of the Muses’ gifts, the one to inspire calm. It would go a long way with setting these terrified kids at ease. But the best I could do was to offer an encouraging smile.

As Monica herded the kids into a circle in the center of the room, I grabbed the stack of towels from near the door. Tossed them to one of the employees. “Cover every kid’s head and shoulders. I’ll go find more.”

Heart pounding, knowing from the change in pressure in my eardrums that the tornado was on us. I sprinted around the corner to the towel desk. A couple of stragglers raced by, hustling into the other designated shelter, the locker rooms. I swept up all the spare towels on the corner of the desk, then raced back to the studio.

The kids were all seated in a tight circle. The second I re-entered, I threw the towels at the teenage employee. They hustled to draped the thin protection over the kids.

I located my little cherub, picked her up and found a spot in the circle, next to Monica. She was talking quietly into her two-way radio, asking Benji for an update. My knee bumped hers as I settled next to her and arranged Little Blondie on my lap. She gave me a grateful smile, her eyes alight with something in addition to concern. I was going to take the gleam, and the burst of electricity between our knees, as a sign that I should ask her out for coffee.

“All the kids are present and accounted for in the Pilates studio.” She held my gaze as she relayed the information. “As soon as we get the all clear, we’ll head back to the kid’s center. Parents can collect them there.” She dropped her radio into her lap with a heavy sigh.

“There will be a lot of frightened parents, eager to get to their kids. Will we make it back there?”

“I have you to protect us, in case we’re mobbed.” She dropped her gaze to my chest, then lifted back to my face. “I bet not many people tangle with you.”

A chuckle built in my chest. “Well, they try, but few live to tell the tale.” Little Blondie whimpered again, and I tightened my arms around her.

Monica’s gaze softened, and she reached out to stroke the blond curls, just as I went to press a kiss to the child’s head. My lips caressed the backs of her fingers instead.

Monica gasped, her eyes flashed up to mine. “Oh!”

My lips were tingling, and every molecule in me strained to lean into the woman and see what might happen if I kissed her plump lips. “You felt it too?”

She nodded, but before she could say anything her radio blared.

“Monica, we got the all clear.” Benji’s voice trembled with relief. “The warning has been lifted and the sun is out.”

Her shoulders slumped and she leaned into my chest. “Thank God.”

I wrapped my free arm around her shoulders and drew her tight against my side, trying to tame the adrenaline rampaging through my system. Pressing a kiss to her hair, the contact inspired a little lightning in my chest.

“Thank you for your help,” she said. “I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

“If you really wanted to thank me, you’d say yes to a protein smoothie in the café once we get these kiddos back where they belong.”

​Her sweet smile hit me right in the libido. “I’d like that very much.”

​The minute I walked into the office for A Fighting Chance Breast Cancer Fund, the sound of an argument resonated through the closed door to my right. It distracted me long enough that I pulled up short, already on alert. When I did, someone bumped my shoulder.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Scooting to my left, I cleared a path for the woman who’d dogged my heels all the way inside.

She ducked under the counter and hit me with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The badge clipped to her lavender sweater read Delia. “How may I help you?” She flicked her eyes to the right, glaring at the office where the sound of bickering seeped out. She pursed her lips, returned her attention to me, and pasted the same phony nothing to see, folks, move along now smile on her lips.

My gaze tracked back to the closed door. The nameplate hanging next to proclaimed it Jazmin D’Albina’s office. It was her signature scrawled at the bottom of the letter tucked into my back pocket.

Fine, two can play that ignore-the-fight game.

I grabbed the letter and the other papers, waving them in the air. “I’m Zeke Patterson. My buddies and I signed up for the Warrior Dash for Breast Cancer.” Three of my co-workers and I had decided we needed a break from the supernatural shenanigans with Pierus and his bitch daughters, the Pierides. We’d been at DefCon Five since the ancient deity showed his ugly mug a little over a month ago, challenging the Muses in a hostile take-over attempt of Olympus. Over beers last week we decided to do a charity run. Immortals tend to be generous if you do anything in the name of charity. We’d raised over twenty-five hundred bucks between the three of us. Then Zeus Thanos, president and CEO of Olympus Enterprises, had matched the donations.

“You ran last week? We just mailed thank-you notes and receipts last week.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Our form only credited donations of five hundred dollars. The paperwork is missing a zero.”

She shook her head. “That must be a mistake.”

I fought the urge to shake the letter in her face. Of course it was a mistake. I bit the inside of my cheek and then plastered what I hoped was an engaging grin on my face. “That’s what I thought. Can you look?”

“Did you bring a copy of your pledge form and the receipt?”

I slid a sheaf of papers across the battered wooden counter. Wherever the money was disappearing to, it wasn’t in facilities. “Do you mind if I wait?”

“It may take a while. Have a seat.” She nodded and pointed to a student style desk in the corner.

As long as the while wasn’t hours, I’d take the time to fill out the review form Mars had emailed this morning. After my performance when my charge, Clio Thanos, the Muse of History, went head-to-head with Tyranny and beat that bitch’s ass, I was up for a promotion. “Got a pen?”

From the cup by her computer monitor, she plucked a purple pen with a bright yellow daisy taped to the top. It just looked stupid in my meaty paw. I curbed the urge to rip the plastic monstrosity off, shrugged, and headed to the desk. Already uncomfortable with the pen, I eyed the seat. I’m six and a half feet tall. No way I’ll be able to cram my body into the tiny desk to complete their forms. I opted to do what I’d done in classes at Delphi City University. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor.

The argument behind closed doors escalated, which ratcheted up my tension as I propped the paper on my knee. After all the crap we’d dealt with a couple weeks ago, fights—even something as minor as the raised voices sent me straight to beast mode. When you are an immortal partisan guard, trained to protect another god, you stay alert and ready to kick ass. I don’t really have spidey senses, but my immortal hearing was excellent. I tuned into the conversation behind the barrier.

“I’m telling you something is wrong. The numbers aren’t adding up from last week’s Warrior Dash.” The raspy, sexy quality of the woman’s voice tightened everything in my hard body. I wanted to jump up, blast through the solid piece of wood between us, and locate the source.

“And I’m telling you, as the accountant, that you’re wrong. The numbers are fine. You just don’t know how to read a balance sheet.” The bitter, defensive edge to the guy’s response made me certain he was hiding something.

That fact that my donations receipt was wrong solidified my belief. I sat up straighter, flattening my shoulders against the wall. Easier to launch myself into the fray if needed.

“The board hired me because of my financial skills. I worked as an analyst for one of the three-letters. I know when someone is embezzling funds.” If she had been an employee of one of the government agencies she probably knew exactly what she was talking about. I wondered briefly which one…CIA, FBI or better, NSA. Props to her, though—she’d lowered her voice, the sexy tone holding nothing but cool accusation.

Delia hustled across the room and knocked on the doorframe. “Jazzy? You okay?” Her voice was lost beneath the yelling coming from inside.

“I’ve already notified the board of the anomaly, Stephen. They aren’t happy about the missing donations. Hey—”

The distinct sounds of a scuffle hit my ears at the same time I hit my feet.

“You shouldn’t have done that. Now, you’re gonna pay.”

Six angry strides put me at entry. I brushed Delia aside, shouldered open the door.

A gray-haired man, Stephen, I presumed, had his hands locked around the woman’s throat. She clawed at his fingers, eyes wide in fright. Her cheeks were already bright red from lack of oxygen.

Pissed as hell that the old shit laid his hands on a woman, I bellowed, “Get your fucking paws off her.” The element of surprise was on my side. I raced forward and tackled the old geezer.

He didn’t release Jazzy’s neck fast enough and we all went down hard. As we crashed to the floor, I twisted enough so that I landed mostly on Stephen. But I still managed to clip a bit of her chest. Her soft breasts flattened under my left pectoral. Her gasp tickled my ear and a heady puff of her lemon and sage shampoo hit my senses.  In spite of the situation, I’m not gonna lie. I kind of dug the feel of her under me.

Shoving the feeling away, I focused on pinning Stephen’s arms under him. Jazzy scrambled to her feet with Delia’s assistance. Her wavy dark hair glinted under the florescent lights, her cheeks now a more natural, less oxygen deprived color.

Now that she was clear, I clamped one hand around the nape of Stephen’s neck. Leaping to my feet, I hauled him up, and shoved him against the wall. I didn’t have to rely on my supernatural senses to know the man was scared shitless. The acrid scent of fear rolled free of his pores.

“Listen, jackass. No matter how pissed you are, putting your hands on a woman isn’t acceptable.”

I punctuated my directive by pressing my forearm against his neck. His ashen face took a turn for the florid as I cut off his air supply. Rage at his rough treatment fogged my vision. I pressed harder, not really caring if I crushed the bastard’s windpipe. Asshat was lucky I hadn’t unleashed my immortal clobbering abilities.

I dug in harder. “How do you like that?”

“I’m just going to call the police.” Delia’s voice was breathy.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” Jazzy said. She laid a hand on my elbow. The one cutting off Stephen’s breath. “Um, maybe you could let him go now?” She increased the pressure of her fingers on my flesh, dispelling the haze of anger that had threatened to consume me. A different sort of passion took over.

I eased back enough for him to suck in a deep breath. Twisting my head, I gazed into her eyes. She was so close the golden flecks deep in the velvety brown irises were visible. Although her lips were in a flat line, they were plump. Kissable.

“Truly, I can’t thank you enough.” She rubbed the reddened marks on her neck as her gaze heated under mine. “The police are probably on their way.”

For a moment, I lost myself in her gaze. They say you know…the instant you meet your match. I might have lived one hundred and fifty lifetimes, but the thrill of discovering a new mate in a new lifetime never gets old. I pushed my recognition aside, and eased back from Stephen. Jazzy’s lush lips curled into a tiny, encouraging smile.

None too gently, I grasped Stephen’s upper arm and dragged him to a chair in front of the desk.
Clamping a hand on one shoulder, I forced him to take a seat. “Stay there.” Leaving my hand in place, I offered my other to Jazzy. “Zeke Patterson.”

“Jazzy D’Albina.” Her tiny hand was swallowed in mine. And fit so right.

“I, uh, I couldn’t help overhearing your argument. I dropped by because the paperwork I’d received about my team’s donation to the Warrior Dash was wrong. I guess now I know why.” I diverted my eyes to Stephen, who cowered and whimpered under the force of my glare.

Jazzy’s soft grunt drew my attention back. “Yeah, we were just discussing some discrepancies in the balance sheet from that event. About twenty-five thousand discrepancies.”

I dug my fingers hard into Stevie-boy’s muscles, pleased to hear his moan. I contemplated doing the same thing twenty-five thousand times, once for each dollar he’d stolen from a charity. “Which three letter?”

She drew her brows together. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m guessing NSA or Homeland Security. Am I right?”

“You heard that?” Her cheeks flushed, a becoming shade of peach to match her lips.

Holy Hades, I really wanted to kiss her. Right here. Right freaking now.

I leaned toward her, but stopped short. Not the time or place. “I doubt you were aware how sound carries through those old heat ducts.” I pointed to the cold-air return grate over the doorway.

“Oh. Um, I was with the FBI.”

“Let go of me,” Stephen growled.

“Shut up,” Jazzy and I barked at the same time.

Her face lit up with a warm smile, illuminating the gold in her eyes. “We’re kind of in sync, here.”

I’d like to be in sync with her on a soft mattress. My imagination fired; my body responded to my licentious thoughts.

Stephen tried to climb out of the chair. I locked my elbow and held him in place. “Buddy, embezzling that amount of money is most likely a felony. I hope you like orange, but I doubt it’s your color.”

If he was an immortal, I’d ask Zeus to confine him in the scorpion-infested caverns in the mountains near Macedonia. But he was as mortal as they come. He’d be going to the federal corrections facility in northern Pennsylvania.

Jazzy strode behind her desk just as Delia hollered from the outer office. “The police will be here shortly. They respectfully requested that Mr. Patterson continue to contain the subject.”

“You got it,” I shouted back, delighted to help.

Stacking two file folders on top of each other, Jazzy aligned the corners, then slipped them into the middle drawer of the battered wooden desk. If their office and furnishings were a clue, I imagine the embezzling had been going on for a while. Or Jazzy didn’t care what the office looked like, as long as there were funds to help people with cancer. She locked the drawer and pocketed the key.

I maintained vigilance over Stephen, but directed my words to the intriguing woman before me. “I’m willing to testify against him, if needed. My buddies and I raised 5K for the dash. I hate that the funds won’t help who they were meant to help.” For the sake of driving my message home, I buried my fingers in Stephen’s shoulders again, and imagined claws piercing the guy’s flesh. He squirmed and whimpered.

The heavy sound of boots hit the air as two of DCPDs uniformed officers rushed into the office, followed by Delia.

I let up on the pressure. I was done torturing the mortal now. It was up to the police. I moved to Jazzy’s side as they flanked Stephen’s chair.

While they questioned Jazzy, I took a position right behind her. My protective instincts were charged and ready to act. I was close enough that my bicep brushed her shoulder blade. She leaned against me, almost as if she was happy to have me there.

When they were finished talking to her, and were finally leading Stephen away, in handcuffs to my delight, she turned to me. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a real-life hero.” The combination of her fingers on my arm, her misplaced adulation, and her brilliant smile, floated over my heart. “Can I buy you a coffee to express my gratitude?”

I could think of plenty of ways I’d prefer to have her show her gratitude.

“Thanks aren’t necessary.” I offered her my elbow, delighted when she wound her arm through the crook and laid her hand on my forearm. “But I’m certainly willing to play the hero any time you need.”

​And if that meant doing it every single day for the rest of her life, I was all the way in.