Ghost Phoenix (9 page)

“None taken, but look at it this way: after today, our sniper probably thinks we're working together. You may be in the line of fire now, which makes it a good idea to bring a bodyguard. Plus, if I go with you, I can keep you informed on the investigation of the sniper from Alec's end.”

He wanted to accept the offer. Montoya was good, despite not having spotted the sniper. Richard hadn't spotted him either, so he could hardly find fault on that regard. He turned to Marian.

“He's right. We could use a bodyguard. His motives are somewhat pure given how he tried to ‘rescue' you from me and he also came back while we were under fire, so he doesn't abandon comrades. He should be fine.”

“Gee, prince, I'm all warm and fuzzy from your praise,” Montoya said.

“The downside is that he's a muttonhead,” Richard added.

“You're asking me to make the final call?” Marian asked.

“I hired you for your expertise. Would he be a help?”

“Do you speak any European languages?” she asked Daz.

“Spanish and enough French to get by. A little German. I spent some time stationed there.”

Farley grabbed his friend's arm. “Daz, wait a minute, what are you doing?”

“He saved my life, Alec. I owe him. It's a debt I'd rather repay ASAP.” Daz crossed his arms over his chest. “And it's obvious I can't tail him in secret. If you're serious about some kind of truce, this is a good start. I keep an eye on him, he keeps an eye on me, and we'll see how it goes.”

“I could tail him in secret,” Drake said.

“You could, but I think the area between my shoulder blades would get far too itchy with you out there in the darkness.”

Drake tilted his head as if in agreement.

“We might have to deal with people on the black market,” Marian said. “That's always a little difficult and somewhat dangerous. Extra protection could be a big help, even if there's nothing to this curse.”

“All settled then,” Daz said, looking at Alec.

“Bitchin',” Richard said.

“You talk strange for an immortal prince,” Daz said.

“And how many immortal princes have you met?” Richard offered his hand. Montoya shook it. No hesitation, strong, firm grip. This would be a good man to know. Daz Montoya had no fear of what Alec Farley could do. Such a man was worth being around.

If he kept his word.

“There's a bond of honor between us now, Daz Montoya. If you break it, then there will be that fire and blood.”

Montoya grinned. “Likewise, prince guy.”

Chapter Eight

Daz drove them back into the city. Marian went back to her office, changed into clothing she kept in her closet, and set up their itinerary for the trip to Europe.

It was a normal thing to do for a client. She looked over at the borrowed clothes in a neat pile on the side of her desk. She desperately needed normal right now.

A firestarter, a telepath and a self-healer. To say nothing of Richard, the immortal prince. And the legend of the long-dead, mad monk who cursed those who searched for him. Psychics, all of them. Just like her. She almost wished she could have stayed and really talked to Alec and Beth.

But who knew if she could trust them? And she'd rather they not know about her phantom power.

Plus, she had work to do.

There was one contact who might provide information about Rasputin's remains. He was her main authority on Russian antiquities and had been for over a decade. The man styled himself “Lord Romanoff”, though she doubted he was related to the former czars of Russia. More likely, he was a former high-ranking soldier with access to certain classified materials from the old Soviet Union.

But he liked to think himself important, hence the title.

Romanoff's contacts in the world of Russian artifacts, particularly pre-Bolshevik, were superb. Romanoff was difficult to approach and suspicious of anyone he didn't know. He would only talk in person and only to select people.

But he'd always liked her. If he was going to tell anyone about any information he had about Rasputin's body being moved, it would be her. Or he'd pass her on to someone who could help. She wondered if he'd known about Rasputin's curse.

She called and arranged a face-to-face meeting with Romanoff through his private secretary.

Richard walked into her office, and that ended the normal part of her job.

This was someone who changed lives. It was good to see him again. It was almost terrifying to see him again. Argh.

She picked up her phone. “I assume you like to travel first class, Richard?”

“Absolutely, which is why I've arranged for a company plane to fly us to France.” He sat down on the edge of her desk and glanced down at his watch. A watch. Who wore a watch in this day and age? She supposed an immortal prince could be forgiven for not moving into the smartphone age.

“We're scheduled to leave in two hours. I've already informed Mr. Montoya to meet us at the airport.”

Oh. That left her zero time to pack. Good thing she always kept a suitcase here with necessities and a few days' worth of clothing, along with important documents like her passport.

“Is the time frame going to be a problem?” Richard asked, probably wondering why she'd been silent for so long.

“No, it's fine, I'm always ready to travel at a moment's notice.” She unlocked her closet door and pulled out her suitcase.

“Efficient,” he said. “And we're off, then.” He put his hand on the handle of her suitcase.

“No, I…damn. Just wait a minute.” She settled back in her desk chair and looked out the window. Once on that long plane ride with nothing to do, she was afraid she'd cry or fall apart or just lapse into a catatonic state. It'd be nice to have a plan.

“You don't trust me, Angel?”

She shook her head. What was wrong with her? “It's not that. I…just… I've never met anyone else with psychic abilities before. I…I've never…I don't…”

“You never knew others had abilities like yours?”

“Yes, no, I mean, I heard the stories of your immortal court but I didn't really connect it with any abilities. I knew my family could do this and that we had to keep it a big secret. We closed ranks. I was told never to speak of it to anyone. And I followed orders.”

She stared at the sky through the glass. It was a nice view of Manhattan, despite only being on the third floor.

“You were sheltered much of your life, tucked tightly inside the family circle where you could be controlled,” he said, his voice quiet.

“No, it was my own fault. My mom walked out after this big fight about my dad about using my abilities for the family. I was about ten. I thought she didn't like me. I had the choice to stay with Dad or go with Mom. I thought Mom was mean for standing in my way of learning how to do what I do. I thought it was cool. So I picked Dad.”

“And now you feel you must keep to the decision of your ten-year-old self?”

“I did, for a long time.” She looked up at him, taking it all in. A person could get lost just staring at his bleached-blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong shoulders and trim waist, neither of which were completely hidden by the nondescript gray hoodie.

“I told Dad and my grandfather two days ago that I wanted to quit and that I was tired of illegal smuggling on the firm's behalf. Everything in me screams that it's wrong. Maybe that's why I'm so afraid of getting caught. If I believed in it, I'd have the courage of my convictions, at least. I have an invitation for a dig that should get me entry into a terrific doctoral program for Native American studies. But then I agreed to stay for one more client.”

“Me.” Richard sat on the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “So your life would be far simpler if you sent me on my way?”

But not nearly as pretty. And that wasn't quite right. Richard wasn't so much pretty as he was like staring at a gorgeous sunrise.
Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious by this son of York.
Shakespeare had been making a pun, because King Edward IV had been a son of the Duke of York but Edward IV also brought back the sun—peace—to England after long years of fighting.

King Edward IV. Richard's
father
. She wondered if the legendary Queen of his court was also a famous figure from history. But no Doyle had ever known the Queen's original name.

“Definitely simpler, I suppose. But then I met you.”

He turned and she was absorbed in that glorious sun again.

“And that is a good thing?”

“I'm beginning to think so.”
Don't ramble. No babbling. Be competent
.

He nodded. “It's obvious your grandfather does not cherish and honor you as he should. You're not a servant, not of him and not of me. I release you, Angel. You have a choice.”

“What? You want me to decide?” Her breath shuddered. She could walk out free of obligation. Richard would not hold it against Doyle Antiquities. Grandfather could not complain. Back to her dreams of a normal life.

“I took your case. I gave my word. I'll finish it.”

Richard winced. “I understand keeping words of honor. But I thought instead of seeing me as an obligation, you might actually enjoy this.”

“I will. I mean, I do. I mean, except for the blood and the getting shot at.” Yes, that sounded competent. She'd probably think of something perfect to say to Richard just before the plane landed in France.

While he was sleeping.

“Anyone would be disturbed by what happened today. I've been shot before. I didn't like it the first time, and the experience, unlike surfing, doesn't improve with repetition.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “You handled yourself perfectly, Angel.”

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. “And now I'm falling apart.”

“And now you are suffering from a natural after-reaction. I have seen it from strong men, brave men, who wept for hours after a grievous battle. There's no shame in it.”

“You're so calm.”

“I'm a prince of the blood. And I've been Maytagged before.”

“What's that mean?”

“Rolled around and spit out by life.” Again, he took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it.

She heard the faint squeaks of the old boards of the brownstone as people walked around in other offices. Wind caused branches to scrape against the bricks outside. All the sounds familiar to her from years of this brownstone being her life.

Richard was new. So was the way he stared at her.

“Alec Farley wasn't what I expected.”

“He attracted you?” Richard frowned.

“He'd attract a horde. But no, I meant the way he talked about his ability. He seemed so comfortable with it. I liked that he didn't try to hide it.”

“Yes, he's open and easy about that. I envy that too. Being open about my ability was never possible.” Richard let go of her hand.

She wished he still held it. “The telepath was a little scary.”

“Telepaths are always dangerous because while sometimes you can tell when they're using their ability, often you can't.”

“When she read your mind, did she learn about my ability? Or could she read my mind when she came into the room?”

“She didn't learn about you from me. I know how to sequester thoughts to hide them from a telepath unless they ask a direct question or do a deep probe. If Beth Nakamora knew about you, she would've told the firestarter and he would've asked you about it. As you said, Farley's direct. I haven't met such a combination of power and purity in a long time.”

“And Philip Drake? He scared me more than the telepath.”

“That's because he's killed far more people than Beth Nakamora. Drake, if he were a telepath, probably would have insisted on that type of deep probe.”

“He seemed to have very little human feeling at all.”

“Drake's human. I could tell that from the memories fed to me. He loves Beth and he loves his new wife. But I was unable to decide whether he was putting up a front or was truly ready to kill us if we posed a threat. Look how easily he yielded to his daughter. I think Drake enjoys intimidating people, especially if he perceives them as dangerous. It may even be second nature to him. But that is not all there is to his nature.”

“And Daz Montoya? I was surprised you agreed he could come with us.”

“It's better to have him close than watching us from afar. Plus, he's on easy terms with Alec Farley and yet he's quite human. He's more than a simple soldier. I was curious. And you gave your approval.”

“I know.”

“Enough about them.” Richard shook his head. “There's also far more to you than meets the eye, Angel.” He stroked her cheek with his finger.

“Um, thank you.”

He took her face in his hands and leaned over.

She melted into the chair, glad she was sitting and not standing.

“I had no idea how I longed for something new, something precious, until I saw you walk on air.”

He touched her lips lightly with his. Her breath shuddered out.

“You like me for my phantom power?”

“I like you for all of you. The saving of my life by pulling the bullet out. The keeping quiet about it in front of some formidable people.” He ran his hand through her curls. “For the richness of your hair and the beauty of your eyes and for daring to do something that terrifies you.”

“Oh.” Stupid, stupid, could she say nothing coherent here?
Excuse me, Prince, while I try to pick my jaw up off the floor?

“If for nothing else in my life, I should thank Marshal for sending me to you.” He smiled and drew back. “Let's go, then, Angel, and see what we can discover together.”

He picked up her suitcase.

“You shouldn't carry that. You're a client.”

“A lady does not carry her luggage,” he said. “And it's not heavy.”

“Thank you kindly, good sir.”

He offered her his arm. She hooked her arm in his, and they descended the stairs together.