Desire Me (9 page)

“What did he want?” Lydia asked.

“He wanted to know why I wanted his map.” Sabine shrugged. “How I’d found out about it. Questions any person would have if
a woman showed up out of nowhere offering you a wager for your prized possession.”

“What did you tell him?” Agnes asked.

Sabine took a deep breath. “I lied. I told him I was a collector.”

“He doesn’t believe you,” Calliope said with a shake of her head.

“That I realize,” Sabine said.

“And we still need that map,” Lydia said. “Desperately,” she added.

“I’ll think of something.” Sabine eyed her aunts. She had to. And she wanted to accomplish the task without too much of their
assistance. They needed to be able to rely on her.

“And what of the other men?” Agnes asked. “What did they want?”

Sabine ran a brush through her hair. “I don’t know.”

“They had to be after the elixir,” Agnes said.

Lydia shook her head. “It is too soon for the Chosen One to have found us. We are too well hidden. Madigan even agreed. And
he took extra precautions to make certain he wasn’t followed here.”

Madigan
. He had risked his life to warn them about the prophecy, to tell Sabine where to find the map, and thus far, she had failed
in retrieving it. Sabine set the brush down.

“Perhaps it was nothing more than a robbery,” Calliope offered. “Yes, I’m certain that’s what this was. Stores get robbed
all the time.”

“Still, they could have been after the elixir,” Lydia said.

“Something doesn’t fit. Why were there three of them? It’s the Chosen One, not the chosen three.” Sabine shook her head. “I
heard them, and they weren’t looking for anything in particular. They were common thugs,
nothing more. I cannot believe the
Chosen One would send bumblers to do such an important job.”

Atlanteans were warned of the Chosen One, since he was the most powerful enemy of her people—cunning and clever, with ways
to detect the presence of elixir. Would a person like that make such a mistake? She didn’t think so.

They were quiet for a moment as if considering her words, then Lydia took a few steps forward. “Was the use of the elixir
necessary tonight?”

“I did what I had to do. You saw his wound. It was deep, the bullet was lodged, and I worried about infection,” Sabine said.

“Yes, but he is an Englishman,” Lydia said.

Sabine stood from her bed to create distance between her and her eldest aunt. She opened her mouth to answer, but before she
could, Agnes spoke. “I am the Healer. It was my choice.”

Lydia took a deep breath and nodded, but said nothing more.

Sabine had to get her hands on the prophecy, sooner rather than later. Tomorrow she would pay Maxwell Barrett a visit.

T
onight’s kill would be simple. His plan was so clever he still couldn’t believe how easy it had been to set up. Spencer waited
in dense woods, just outside London, perched on a black horse. Luring his prey had taken some creativity. He had to be careful.

No one investigating these murders could link them to him. Not yet. So he hadn’t been able to send notes or invitations. No,
he’d made his requests in person. But in the end, his hard work would pay off. Because of his brilliance, he would get two
with one clean swipe.

The
Times
had not printed his last two letters, warning the guardians the time had come and their end was near. Perhaps this would
get their attention. Though somehow he doubted it. The English were ridiculously arrogant, foolishly believing nothing and
no one could cause their country significant harm. Hell, he could send a letter detailing his entire plan, and they would
never believe anyone could be capable of such a feat.

He didn’t plan on giving these two gentlemen the
choice of joining him. Two generals killed at once would guarantee the authorities
took notice. After he took care of the men tonight, he would be leaving for Cornwall. It had taken him a while, but he had
finally located the next guardian.

For the completion of the prophecy, he required all three amphoras of elixir. As legend had it, the person who had all three
amphoras of elixir became immortal.

Horses’ hooves sounded off in the distance, and his own mount stomped in response. He ran his hand down the mare’s neck to
calm her. Slowly he slid from the saddle, then tied her loosely to a tree. He retrieved a halved apple from his pack and held
it out to her. Her whiskers tickled his palm as she took the treat.

The frigid night breeze bit into the exposed flesh on his ears and face. He would have been far warmer enclosed in his carriage,
but he couldn’t afford to have another witness. Already he had the other driver to be concerned about. Now carriage wheels
rumbled closer and closer to his hiding place.

He made his way to the middle of the road and withdrew his pistol. Aiming it straight at the approaching carriage, he held
his stance. Though the dark of night was beginning to settle, light from the horizon still illuminated enough of the sky for
him to see the surprised and fearful expression of the driver. The man made an effort to swerve, but at the last minute, he
pulled the reins, and the horses skidded to a stop inches from Spencer. The steeds stomped restlessly.

He’d made a mistake at the last killing with that servant girl. Having extra bodies for the authorities would only sully his
message. He could not afford to indulge himself so carelessly again.

With purposeful steps, he made his way to the driver, never lowering his gun. “Run,” he told him. And the driver made no delay
in doing precisely that.

“What the devil…” One of the men from the interior opened the door and sputtered when he saw the gun aimed at him. It was
Clyde, the adjutant-general, which made him the most senior officer in her majesty’s army, though many remained perplexed
by how the man made it that far.

And Spencer knew precisely who would take his place—a fine gentleman already sympathetic to Spencer’s cause. “Good evening,
gentlemen,” he said calmly.

“Cole,” Clyde said in surprise. Then the man chuckled. “Quite a jest”—he nudged the man next to him—“pretending to rob our
coach.” He motioned to the pistol in Spencer’s hand.

Clyde, of course, was the easy prey, always up for a night of drinking and prurient entertainment.

The other man, Mercer, found no humor in the situation. Naturally more suspicious, he had been harder to tempt onto this deserted
country road. Clyde had achieved his position through the connections of his powerful family, but Mercer had clawed his way
to the top through cunning and ambition. “I thought we were meeting you at the Hog’s Hair Inn.”

Spencer shrugged. “Change of plans.”

“What do you want?” Mercer asked.

“What’s going on?” Clyde asked.

Mercer’s shrewd eyes narrowed. He had quite the reputation for being a brilliant strategist. He put his hand to his belt.

“There’s no need to go for your weapon,” Spencer told
him as he raised his own gun. “There isn’t time. I can assure you I’m
a perfect marksman.”

“Our money,” Clyde said as realization struck him. “You can have our money.”

“I’m afraid money is not what I’m after.” Mercer pulled out his own pistol, but Spencer was faster. He fired a shot straight
into the man’s heart. Then he shot the older man in the head.

Clyde’s expression froze into a look of permanent surprise, and Mercer clasped a hand to his chest, struggling to get off
a single shot as his heart pumped the last of his blood from his body.

“And you make five.”

“Son of a bitch!” Max cursed loudly as he pulled off his shirt. He tossed it into the newly lit fire warming his bedchamber.
The flames roared as they engulfed the linen. He stood in front of the mirror looking at the gunshot wound just below his
shoulder. The stitches were even and small; she’d done a good job, he’d give her that. The wound, though, was an angry red
mark and hurt like the devil. He’d be fortunate if it didn’t leave one hell of a nasty scar.

But tonight had been futile.

Except for the kiss. She’d been surprisingly passionate. Yet full of pluck and fire. Precisely the sort of combination he
found irresistible in women. He’d been tempted by their interlude at the gaming hell, but now he knew how Sabine Tobias felt
in his arms. Under normal circumstances, he would pursue her, yet she seemed utterly unmoved by his charms. Of course, this
wasn’t surprising given that he had broken into her home.

He had not gone there for a kiss, though, while it was a worthwhile diversion. And he certainly hadn’t gone there
to offer
protection to her or her aunts. Protecting people had never been his forte. Information was what he’d been after, and still
he knew nothing about her connection to his map. She refused to admit knowing anything significant about it, but he knew she
was lying. Most collectors preferred more legitimate ways to obtain items of their interest. Once or twice over the years,
he’d been contacted by solicitors representing such individuals, but he’d never even considered selling the map.

Earlier that evening, his security guard had alerted him to the presence of a waiting carriage with four women inside. It
had been hidden well, but with a clear view of his front door. They’d waited for a couple of hours, then had given up and
left.

Her underhanded approach led him to only one conclusion. There was more to the charming Miss Tobias than met the eye. The
late-night visitors to her shop only backed up that theory. Unfortunately for Miss Tobias, he was a man who enjoyed a challenge.
And he fully intended to find out exactly what she was hiding.

Sabine wanted that map, and when she came to retrieve it, he’d be here waiting.

“Say it again. Slowly this time,” Cassandra said through gritted teeth.

“We didn’t find nothing,” Beaver said, scratching at his scruffy chin. His dirt-encrusted fingernails made Cassandra shudder.
Filthy beast.

“Nothing,” Cassandra repeated. She strolled through her parlor, running her fingertips over the furniture as she passed. “Nothing.”
She sized up the three men and offered them a smile that was more snarl than anything. “How is it that you found nothing?”

Johns stepped forward, holding his stocking cap against his abdomen. “Miss, we searched the entire residence.”

Five years her junior, Johns was a perfect male specimen, as if his muscular frame had been chiseled first in marble. And
his face rivaled that of Adonis. His sheer size was normally enough to frighten anyone away from him, but Cassandra knew he
was not quick to violence, and she could persuade him to do almost anything. He was her most trusted employee and, though
it galled her, most frequent lover.

“We didn’t really know what we was looking for,” Johns continued.

“Anything that resembled the healing waters.” It was what she’d told them she was after, a simple lie for simple minds. No
one could know about the fountain of youth. “Or notes or a recipe for their products.” She stepped around the parlor furniture
to where the three men stood before the hearth. Eyeing them closely, she took her time to make them nervous. “Tell me, did
you talk to any of the women, give them any indication what you were looking for?”

“No,” Beaver said, his head shaking back and forth in confirmation. “We ran when they started shooting at us. There was a
man, too. Broke my nose.”

She steepled her red-painted nails beneath her chin. “A man lives with them?”

“I don’t think so,” Johns said. “I didn’t see him, but I think they was shooting at him, too.”

“Interesting,” she said. She stepped over to the third one, enjoying the fact that she stood a head taller than the scrawny
man. “What about you, Platt? What do you have to say for yourself?”

The man simply stood there.

“You know, Miss, he don’t talk,” Beaver offered.

“So you keep telling me,” she said, never taking her eyes off Platt. “But it’s always been my experience that if you kick
a dog hard enough, he’ll always yelp.” She winked at Johns before walking away.

Once she’d reached her gold brocade settee, she sank into the luxurious fabric. “Now then, gentlemen,” she said tightly. “What
is it that you’re going to do to make this little foible up to me? You know how I loathe disappointment.”

The three men looked blankly at one another, presumably hoping that one of them would have a brilliant idea. Which, of course,
she was not expecting. She decided how things were done around here, and they knew that, but that didn’t prevent her from
taunting them.

“I prefer to think I’m a generous employer. I should think among the three of you, you might come up with one entire brain
and find one worthwhile idea.”

“We looked all through the storeroom,” Beaver said. “We tried to get upstairs to search, but that’s when the man jumped out
at us.”

She needed to find out who this man was. Perhaps he knew of the fountain, too. Perhaps she had competition.

Cassandra was on the right track. She knew that much. Max had provided her with the confirmation that this Tobias woman was
where Cassandra should be looking. She had something to do with Atlantis or Max wouldn’t be sniffing around the woman’s shop.