Forever As One (5 page)

“I asked if you’re right handed.”

“I heard you. I just don’t know why it
matters.”

“Trust me. It matters.”

“Yes. I’m right handed.”

He seemed to relax at that. Or she was losing
her mind.

“Good.”

“You’re a pretty odd guy, Mister Morgan.”

“Dane.”

“But I suppose rich people have their
eccentricities, don’t they?”

“You believe in fate, Evangeline?”

“Vangie,” she replied. “And no. I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I believe in apple pie, and patriotism, and
doing the best you can with your time on this planet. I believe in
justice. And righteousness. And just plain honor and integrity. And
paying your taxes. You probably don’t pay taxes, do you?”

“I’m sure I do.”

“See? You don’t even know.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I’m sure I do
because I’ve got estate executors for that.”

“You’ve probably got loopholes to get out of
it.”

“You think its sheer coincidence that we
met?”

Vangie licked her lips. “Wow. Talk about a
one-track mind. You want to talk fate? And coincidence? Fine. But
meeting you had nothing sheer about it. We’re talking total
coincidence here…except you need to toss in stupidity, too. We met
because I took a job that I’m failing. They already paid me the
advance. And here I was just talking about integrity.”

“What job?”

“I need to buy your property.”

“Which one?”

Vangie’s expression fell. She felt it. “Which
one?” she repeated.

“I have a lot of properties.”

“Let me guess. You don’t even know how many,
do you?”

“I have estate executors for that, too.”

“Figures.”

“So…why don’t you tell me which one you wish
to purchase, and I’ll consider it. And in the meantime, we’ll play
chess.”

He’d played chess for centuries; and more
than once, for property. He wasn’t sure how adept she’d be at the
game. So Dane picked up a pawn and reflected which move would buy
him the most time. Time…the one thing he’d always had so much of
was now the most precious commodity in the world. He had five
hours. To spend moving pieces around a chessboard, in a vain
attempt to keep his thoughts from the cabin down the corridor. The
one fashioned when he’d had this ship built. The suite of rooms
designed just for her. It was matched in all his properties. She
had rooms containing a large four-poster bed, satin sheets, gold
candelabra…drawers full of red lace garments…

His hand tightened on the chess piece before
he put it down. One space forward. E2 to e3. The move was against
every other instinct of his heritage, and the centuries of
existence since, but he automatically knew domination and
annihilation weren’t going to get him what he wanted.

Nothing would.

So, for a poor attempt at second best, he’d
try spending what time he could with her, enjoy the absolute thrill
of watching and speaking and communing silently with her, but not a
moment of it touching her. And never admit to why. She didn’t ask
of his concern over her dexterity and which hand she favored. He
wouldn’t have explained. He didn’t dare see the ring on her left
hand again. He’d slam the chess board into oblivion. So, he studied
the chess set and absorbed her presence with the best of
intentions. His actions were probably labeled chivalry.

He should have known it felt as dead as the
era that spawned it.

She moved her pawn d7 to d5, two spaces from
his. Dane narrowed his eyes in a vain attempt to look at the board
and not her. He pondered his next move, rather than the instant
uptick in her heartbeat; the odd vibrations coming from her that
awakened every cell in his body; the instant priming that had sent
him to a cold shower. It didn’t work. He was already cold and dead.
Any heat came from her and what being in her sphere did to him. It
wasn’t something he controlled, either. Every portion of her seemed
fashioned to gain this exact reaction in him. Pure want, absolute
need, unrelenting craving.

She was his mate! She existed…and he’d found
her!

How was it possible to be so blessed? So
amazingly favored? And yet…how could the fates be so unfair at the
same time by keeping her from him? How was it possible she belonged
to another man? That wasn’t listed in anything Akron had described.
Dane had been told if he was really lucky, or if the stars aligned
just right, or if every soothsayer he’d visited proved accurate,
he’d find his mate, or she’d find him. And together they’d be
whole. It wouldn’t be deniable or negotiable. On either side. The
world would have hope and trust and meaning again.

Dane licked his lips. She shifted slightly,
whether at annoyance over the length of time he contemplated his
move, or the war of emotions and urgencies he was straining to keep
in check. He didn’t dare look at her to verify anything.

Pawn, d2 to d4.

He took a move that blocked her and opened
access for his queen and bishop. She immediately moved the pawn in
front of her rook two spaces forward – a7 to a5. She needed to take
more time with her moves! She needed to evaluate and slow things;
give him time to control the massive urge to lunge across the table
at her, enfold her, gain access to her innermost areas, her most
feminine secrets…her perfection.

“Sex and Sunburn,” she spoke, interrupting
the silence.

“What?” The word was strangled.

“That’s the property I want to buy.”

Dane picked up his bishop with a hand that
shook and slammed it down on space 5b, threatening her queen. He’d
also used too much force. The square his bishop occupied cracked
right through the center of the marble. She sucked in a breath, as
if reading his thoughts. Her heart thumped harder, and faster,
drugging his ears with the sound.

Damn.

He lifted his head and glared at the ceiling.
This was harder than he’d expected, a hundred times more wondrous,
and a thousand times more painful. He reached for the edges of the
table and bit his fingers into it, shredding wood.

“So…are you interested in selling?”

Dane lowered his chin, ignoring the game. He
looked right at her and fought the reaction hammering through him,
to center right at his loins. He narrowed his eyes.

“You ever hear of mates?” His voice was
choked. Rough.

“Check…mates?”

“No. Real mates.”

“Of course. Socks…have mates. Left.
Right.”

“Not socks. People. Male to female. Female to
male. Or sometimes male to male. Female to female. Whatever. Those
kinds of mates.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“You don’t believe in it, either?”

“Maybe. Here. This was my move.” She lifted
the pawn she’d placed on 6c, blocking his bishop.

“How about soul mates?” he asked.

She blew a heavy breath that lifted stray
hairs on her forehead. Or his eyes and ears were deceiving him. Her
heart rate sped up another notch. Her voice warbled for the
slightest moment when she answered, too.

“If…you’re playing the lead in a romance
play, I’ll believe it. Otherwise. No.”

“You don’t believe there’s one being on this
planet fated to be with you, mated with you, melding with you? And
only you. Forever?”

She gulped. He heard it. His entire body
reacted with a lurch toward her. He squelched it. And then she
answered with a nonchalance that triggered more reaction.

“Nope. It’s illogical. And wasteful. Think
about it. If you have a right sock and a left goes missing in the
wash, then all you have to do is stick another left sock with it.
Simple solution. Right?”

Dane growled. She jumped slightly and lifted
wide eyes to his. This wasn’t working. He needed to woo her, not
scare her. The table edge piece broke into his palm, but a knock on
one side of his double door covered it.

“Yes?” He turned his head toward the portal.
It was Sven.

“Beg pardon, Dane. You’re wanted.”

“Handle it.”

“Can’t. It’s Akron. Specifically for you.
Only you.”

Dane pushed back from the table, taking the
piece of wood with him. Her question stopped him.

“You’ll be back?”

“Hell couldn’t prevent it,
Frja.
”

“You want to make another move first? Or
leave me in suspense?”

He leaned over, picked up a pawn, and moved
it forward one space. He didn’t care which one. It wasn’t
important.

“That’s not a good move. I’m going to take
your bishop.”

“Take it.”

“With a pawn?”

“What does it matter?”

He met her eyes, trying to project everything
he felt with the one look. Her heartbeat got faster and louder, her
eyes larger and deeper, and then Sven cleared his throat. Dane was
at the door in two steps, and hoped she hadn’t watched.

Akron had better have something important to
say. Damned important. More important than important. Dane shoved
the handle on the communication room down with such force the
chrome warped.

“Ah. Dane. There you are. Finally.”

The huge television in his cabin was
projecting a view of desk and the back of a laptop monitor. And a
lot of shadow. As usual. A chair was positioned before it. He
ignored it and glared at the screen.

“What do you want?”

“Interrupting something?”

“Yeah. Chess.”

“In that case, it’s obviously a rescue. I
have an assignment for you. Hand-picked.”

“Just tell me the name’s Harper. That’s all I
need. Harper.”

“Now…that’s. Just. Odd.” Every word was
broken into its own sentence, distinct and separate.

“What?”

“I’m surprised. I’m never surprised,
Dane…what is your last name this time? Monroe?”

“Morgan.”

“Ah yes. The Captain Morgan rum guy. It was
Monroe last time, wasn’t it? Hard to keep them straight.”

“I change my name every fifty years so I can
reacquire all my properties. And get new IDs that pass inspection.
You know this. The firm handles all the transactions. Can you just
give me the guy’s name?”

“You already called it. Harper.”

Sweet!

A feeling resembling adrenaline filled him.
Dane hadn’t felt this sort of elation since his very first battle.
It electrified and stunned, and lifted him two inches from the
floor before he conquered it and settled back. He had to clear his
throat to answer.

“Point me in the right direction. I’ll have
his head to you within an hour.”

“It’s not a man.”

“It’s not?”

“I’m relieved to see all is right in my
world, Dane. Thank you.”

“What are you talking of?”

“Clairvoyance. For just a bit there, I
actually thought you’d gained powers to match mine. Glad to see I’m
wrong.”

“Just give me the hit. I’ve got things to
do.”

“That’s right. I’m keeping you from an
important chess match. Your mark is Evangeline Harper. Twenty-six.
She disappeared from your club last night. Don’t suppose you’ve
seen her?”

“I’m playing chess with her.”

“Sounds too easy. This is why I chose you,
actually. Proximity. Just make certain the body’s not connected to
us.”

“I’m not killing her. Cancel the hit.”

“You don’t cancel hits with the VAL, Dane. We
don’t give refunds and we don’t miss. Handle the assignment or I’ll
send someone else.”

“You can’t. She’s my mate.”

Silence answered that. And then laughter.

“What’s so damned funny?”

“You. This. Of all the associates, I’d never
put you with an Ivy-league educated woman. Never.”

“Thanks.” Dane’s voice was sarcastic.

“No offense, bud. It’s just…you’re barbarian
to your fingertips, and she—. Well, she doesn’t have much of a
record to her name. Never steps off the path of civility and
righteous behavior. Not even a parking ticket. She probably sings
in a church choir. But, we don’t pick our mates, do we? No worries.
Just take a picture of her looking dead before you change her. I’ll
need proof of the hit.”

“I can’t change her. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“She’s married to someone else.”

Akron burst out laughing again. Dane watched
the screen without expression.

“Now, I really have heard everything. This
explains your interest in Mister Harper’s health, too. Tell you
what. I’ll do some research. You get me a photo of your mate’s
death. And try to keep the authorities out of it. Got it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Hmm. This is interesting.”

“What?”

“Here’s a bit of information on a Roderick
Dee Harper. Hartford, Connecticut. Deceased. Apparently he died
from lingering aftereffects of a shooting. Drive-by. Senseless
urban violence. No arrests. No massive insurance pay-out. That’s
got to hurt the finances. No wonder she’s working for these folks.
Services were last fall. And look. Here’s the listing for a
bereaved spouse. What do you know? It’s Evangeline Harper, age
twenty-five.”

“What?” Dane jumped forward, his eyes glued
to the screen, while the rest of him felt like fireworks were
getting lit on very short fuses, ready to explode.

“You’ve got access to the internet. You could
look this up. It’s a matter of public record. Free. Easily
available. Accessible to anyone. I’m not even breaking any laws
here. Is this her picture?”

The entire screen filled with a newspaper
photo, as grainy as the one from the paper earlier. But still his
Evangeline.

“She’s a widow!” The words were shouted.
Joy-filled.

The photo disappeared.

“I want her death photo by sunrise,
Dane.”

“Whatever,” he answered. He was already at
the door and flipping the handle.

“Ah…the young.”

And with that parting word, the screen went
black.

Now, why had he moved that pawn and not his
bishop?