Fueled by Lust: Maxim (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3

  One glance at the gaping hole left by Dr. Martin’s extraction of the jewel drove home that she was far from finished with her duties for the night. On unwilling legs, she forced herself to head back to the hotel, mumbling her discontent as she weaved through the dig site.

  “Shit! How in the hell am I going to get the slab from Dr. Martin? It’s not like I can just knock on the door and he’s going to hand it over. I’ll need to distract him at breakfast, get his key, and make up some excuse why I have to leave. Crap! That won’t work. He’s not going to let me rifle through his pockets, and even if I did get it, he’ll just escort me back to my room like he always does. Maybe I just need to kick his door in.”

  Lost within her master thief dilemma, Skylar grunted when she slammed into the side of the stairs leading up to Dr. Martin’s office. Staggering backward, she glanced around in confusion. She’d walked in the opposite direction of the hotel.

  “What the hell?” A tickling sensation started in her stomach and worked itself into the familiar sense of urgency she now knew to associate with her spectral visitor.

  “Great! Okay, I need to get in there. Why?” Puzzled by the feeling that she’d know as soon as he stepped inside, Skylar scurried up the stairs and retrieved her keys from her pocket. Despite the dump of adrenaline that saturated her muscles and instantly made her dizzy, she pushed the door wide and slapped her hand against the wall until she found the light switch.

  The office was just as they’d left it. Confused, she looked around and tried to figure out what in the hell she was supposed to do. Then it struck—the logbook. She had to destroy the evidence. Of course! No one could know what they’d found. Scrambling to the desk, panic gripped her senses until she discovered it on the cabinet behind his chair. Quickly flipping through the pages, she found the entry for the gem, carefully ripped it from the book, and stuffed it into her back pocket.

  Halfway to the door, Skylar fell to her knees, overwhelmed with a vivid image of swirling water. Had she left some remnants of the painting by the Tiber? No, that couldn’t be right. The water was pristine, not muddy, and she’d been meticulous on collecting everything from the site. Skylar yelled her frustration to the ceiling, “What the hell does this mean?” She quickly decided that she was going to hate this entity as soon as the contents of her stomach decided it wanted to make its presence known.

  Scrambling on hands and knees, she barely made it to the bathroom to lift the toilet seat before she lost her dinner. Forehead pressed against the cool porcelain, she waited for a few beats to see if another round was coming. Confident that she didn’t have anything else to offer, Skylar flushed and staggered to her feet. The steady thumping sound coming from inside the tank along with the bowl’s refusal to return any water immediately caught her attention. Lifting the back cover, she gaped at the plastic-wrapped object that was keeping the toilet from refilling. Snatching it out, she lowered the seat and planted her butt on it before she dropped to the floor. She was beyond pissed.

  “You are a total asshole! Couldn’t send a little message for me to take a little peek in the toilet, could you? No, you had to upend my stomach to prove a point. I got it! You’re all-powerful and have a strange sense of humor. Well, you listen here, buddy…or lady…or whatever the hell you are! You pull a stunt like that again, and I’m going to ignore you. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again. I’m a master at burying things. Yeah, not so funny now, huh? You need me, and you know it. Now promise to behave or go find some other unlucky bitch out there that can channel your dumb ass!”

  Skylar wondered if she’d pushed her visitor a little too far when she found herself flat on the floor and staring at the ceiling. The word “smite” rattled around in her brain for a few seconds, but quickly receded when the most exquisite feeling of peace settled across her entire body. Even the hair on her head was instantly happy. She couldn’t understand it, or place an accurate word to it, but her senses were telling her that she was getting a dose of something that was equivalent to a supernatural apology. Damn she felt good. Every ounce of tiredness she’d felt since receiving Dr. Martin’s phone call was being pushed right out of her skin. Ah, hell yeah, better than a spa any day of the week.

  All too soon, the presence slipped away. Rolling to her feet, Skylar picked up the plastic-wrapped object and sat back on the toilet seat. Feeling a little bad for yelling at something that could be that sweet to her, Skylar mumbled her thoughts as she tore into the heavy package.

  “Okay, that’s a little better. You play nice, and I will, too. This is a partnership after all. So…thanks for that. I’m sorry I yelled at you for—Shit! Why did Dr. Martin put the stone in the damn toilet?”

  Staring at the undeniable evidence clasped tightly in her hands, Skylar’s mind ran with a thousand scenarios. Had he thought about what she’d said to him? Was he concerned about allowing Tullius’s representatives to spirit the jewel away without following proper procedures first? There wasn’t any other reason that made sense. He’d obviously returned here and hid it, but why? He could have easily stashed it in his own room. Perhaps he’d felt it was safer here than at the hotel? Her eyes widened. Did the spirit push him to do this? When she didn’t get a confirmation one way or the other, she left it alone.

  Still a little freaked out that he’d been concerned enough to go to this length, yet ecstatic that he’d made her thievery much easier, Skylar found his discarded tool pouch, emptied the contents, and stuffed the stone inside. Her fingers were tingling and she couldn’t tell if she was about to break out into a panic attack or if the damn thing was electrified.

  Taking a deep breath, she flipped the lights off and hurried across the dig site. Once her boots hit the cobbled stones, she felt a hundred percent better. As soon as Dr. Martin discovered the stone was gone, the missing painting would solidify the fact that thieves had seen them working late at the site and struck again. Now, if she could only keep the obvious guilt off her puss, then she might get away with this. She was horrible at lying, but there was no time like the present to start perfecting her facial expressions in preparation for their morning breakfast.

  Feeling like seven kinds of fool for muttering like a mad woman while morphing her face into varying styles of nonchalance or surprise, she didn’t have to pretend abject horror as she passed beside the window to her room. Another thin stream of light flickered across the glass, and a quick peek inside confirmed her worst fear. A shadowy body was searching through her things. Glancing to the stained-glass hummingbird attached high on the windowpane, any hope that it really wasn’t her room quickly shoved to the side. She immediately broke into a run, as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her ankles.

  Careening around the corner, Skylar pushed inside the lobby and began beating on the counter bell until a sleepy-eyed and frightened clerk burst from the back room. Isabella. Yes, that’s her name. Trying to catch her breath, Skylar frantically pointed down the long corridor.

  “Inside…someone’s inside my room. Call the police, Isabella.” Thankfully, the woman understood the frantic words and instantly rang for the authorities. Skylar squealed, pulled the clerk from behind the counter, and backed up to the lobby door when two shadowy figures slipped from her room. The men were too far away to make out their features, but she could tell they were bulky and tall. Thankfully, Isabella’s high-pitched yells in her native language had them fleeing in the opposite direction.

  Seconds later, guests began pouring from their rooms to investigate the disturbance. Hovering by the front doorway with Isabella clinging to her arm, Skylar tried to calm her racing heart. Scanning the faces piling into the lobby, Skylar was relieved that Dr. Martin wasn’t one of them. Apparently, only the guests from the first corridor had heard her screams. She knew she had no plausible explanation as to why she had possession of his tool pouch.

  Minutes later, the authorities arrived, directed the patrons back to their rooms, and then immediately searched hers. Isabella stuck close by and tran
slated while they had her look around to see if anything was missing. Dresser drawers lay tossed around the room, clothes scattered about the floor, and her mattress hung halfway off the bed, but everything of value appeared to be there. Perhaps the ringing bell had scared them off before they had a chance to take anything.

  Despite her wish for this to be a random incident, it seemed too suspicious, but why this room? Had someone been looking for the jewel? How in the hell would they have even known about it? She’d only found it within the last hour. If she hadn’t gone back to the dig site, the goons would’ve caught her asleep in her bed. She shivered at the thought. Perhaps they chose hers since she was obviously not there to disturb them. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Turning into a thief would push anyone into that zone. At the first opportunity, she shoved the pouch into her suitcase, relieved to be free of it. It was starting to become more trouble than it was worth.

  The police were more than happy to escort her to Dr. Martin’s room. Despite her reservations, she knew this conversation had to happen eventually. He needed to get worried enough to go back to the dig site and check on his stash. Tullius was going to be pissed that his jewel was missing, but the sooner he found out, the faster they could return to the states.

  A sense of utter sadness washed across her emotions as soon as she saw Dr. Martin’s busted doorknob and lock. One of the police officers pushed her and Isabella to the side and motioned for them to stay put. Cautiously, they entered the room. Seconds later, she heard them speaking frantically into their radios. It was Isabella’s tear-filled eyes quickly shifting to hers and the look of shock telling her everything she needed to know. None of this had been random.

  Despite their gentle warnings to stay back, Skylar stayed inside the doorway and tried to comprehend the scene without completely losing her shit. Dr. Martin lay face down on the floor next to the corner dresser. He was fully dressed, except for his shoes, so he hadn’t been startled from his sleep. She could smell the coppery scent of blood and realized the dark stain pooling on the carpet next to his head was the source. His normally twinkling blue eyes were open, dull, and unblinking. Slapping her hand over her mouth to keep from yelling out, she dropped to her knees. It was surreal. This couldn’t be happening.

  Just like her room, the place lay ransacked. Isabella knelt beside her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. No longer able to look at that poor, dear man lying dead on the floor, Skylar allowed Isabella to pull her back into the hallway. Try as she might, she was unable to hold the tears at bay as the coroner’s office arrived with a stretcher.

  It was so damn unfair. From what she was able to comprehend of Isabella’s broken English, it appeared Dr. Martin had cracked his head on the nightstand and his neck could possibly be broken, either from the fall or intentionally. He’d been able to save the jewel by hiding it away, yet he was unable to help himself. After another hour of questioning from the authorities, she was able to convince them that she had no idea what the thieves may have been after. She gave them Tullius’s contact information and stumbled back to her room.

  Standing in the middle of the thieves’ mess, Skylar knew she couldn’t stay here one more moment. The urgency to flee stretched tight inside her thoughts. Whether they were hers or the spirits, she didn’t care. Snatching up her suitcase, Skylar stuffed as much as she could inside. After ten minutes of frantic searching, she found her purse. Dreading what she might find, she was surprised to see her wallet, money, and passport still inside.

  With Isabella’s help, she convinced the police that she was safer leaving the country then waiting around for whoever had done this to get another shot at her. They couldn’t promise to watch her around the clock and easily agreed to her demand. She gave them her contact information and was in the back of a cab heading to the Orio al Serio Airport just as the sun began to rise.

  Skylar slumped back against the seat, the shock finally receding. Burying her face against her palms, she cried the entire thirty-five minute trip, unable to stop despite the comforting words of her sweet cab driver. It had finally sunk in—she was utterly alone in the world. Dr. Martin had been her last connection to the love and warmth of her parents. Everyone was gone.

  Chapter 4

  Ding

  “Good evening. We’ve arrived at your destination. I’m sure you’re ready to get home. Please disembark in an orderly fashion, and thank-you for flying Air Alitalia.”

  Eyelids flying open, Skylar scrambled upright in her seat, shocked that she’d slept the entire eleven-hour trip from Amsterdam. She’d remembered stumbling to the boarding gate for the connecting flight, but not much after that. Stretching, she waited for the guy next to her to finish fussing with his laptop so she could push herself into the narrow aisle.

  It appeared that everyone else experienced the same jet lag attaching heavily to her muscles. It seemed to take forever to exit the plane. It didn’t help that her purse felt like it weighed three hundred pounds. Just as she approached the exit, a smiling, young man with bright blue eyes, short brown hair, and dressed in an airport uniform stepped into the wide doorway. He lifted his arm and gestured to a corridor on her right.

  “Please step this way, miss.”

  Surprised that he was blocking her path, Skylar glanced around. Everyone else was looking forward and moving into the airport, completely oblivious to the exchange. Wide-eyed, she turned back to him.

  “Me?”

  The smile never left his face while he tipped his head and gave another quick gesture to the left. “Yes. Please step this way. Just follow the marked path.”

  Singled out from the crowd, Skylar’s gut flipped, and she felt her world crashing around her head. It was the jewel. The authorities knew she had it and planned to arrest her. Hell, they probably thought it was her fault for Dr. Martin’s death. Shit! This situation was fucked up beyond repair. With one look inside her purse, her fate would be sealed. She tried to school her features, but knew she was failing miserably.

  “Uh, is there anything wrong?”

  She was surprised when he leaned forward and whispered, “You’re Skylar Grey, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Skylar. Just follow the marked path. You’re needed down there.”

  Needed? Ah! Maybe the police found the culprits and called to tell me the good news? Feeling just slightly better, Skylar nodded and entered the corridor. It was longer than the one she’d just left. She felt exhausted by the time she reached an intersection. Looking around for a sign to signal which path to take, she was about to give up when she noticed the letter “M” embedded in the carpet and an arrow pointing to the right. Glancing back to ask the nice man if this was the right way to go, she was surprised to see that he’d already closed the door. Well, at least there weren’t any big goons with handcuffs coming to take her away.

  Shrugging, Skylar entered the long passageway, her stomach churning with each step. Minutes later, she came upon another intersection with the letter “S” and an arrow also pointing to the right. Shaking her head, she wondered what it was like for the poor employees. It was a damn workout just to get around. She groaned when she hit yet another intersection and found a similar right turn. This one was marked with the letter “T.”

  “Great! This is a freaking maze. Surely someone could’ve made a direct path to this stupid place!”

  Like the others, the corridor was long, but this time she could see a door waiting at the end. Torn between relief and apprehension, Skylar took a deep breath and entered the hallway. Suddenly, she felt alone and vulnerable. The further she moved forward, the faster her heart pounded. Not until she reached the middle of the hallway did she realize that the lights were beginning to dim. What in the hell?

  Glancing over her shoulder, Skylar stifled a scream and slammed back against the wall. A cloud of smoke was rolling down the corridor and heading directly for her. Is there a fire? Shit! Fear kicked her into action. She practically flew down the n
arrow hallway until she reached the lone door at the end. There was no other way to go. She frowned when she saw the letters “MST” painted in dark gray on the center of the wood. What kind of department was this? Why hadn’t she heard an alarm? Skylar twisted the door handle and found it locked. Pounding on the smooth wood, she yelled out for assistance.

  “Help! Fire! Hello?”

  She staggered backward when the door flew open. Instead of finding a frantic employee, a low wall of smoke rolled out of the darkened room and blended into the mass that had arrived behind her. She held her breath before it could rise and completely engulf her. Skylar was unsure if she should venture inside toward the unknown or go back the way she’d already been. She grimaced and took a step toward the doorway. Maybe she could find a phone and call for help.

  Unable to hold her breath a moment longer, she quickly inhaled, surprised by an aroma of clean air and wild flowers. Confused, Skylar looked down and realized that it wasn’t smoke, but a foggy, mist-like substance wrapping around her legs and drifting slowly up the walls. Was this the stuff to put out the fires? She called out again and squealed when a shadowy figure appeared in the middle of the room, moving slowly through the mist until it was inches away from her.

  Looking up, her breath caught in her lungs. The most excruciatingly handsome man she’d ever seen was looking down at her. She quickly assessed the overwhelming presence. He had gorgeous, jet-black hair falling long around his broad shoulders, winged brows, hypnotic, steel-gray eyes, high cheekbones, full, sculpted lips, golden tan, heavily muscled, narrow waist, tight ridged abs, and wearing only a black loincloth. Wait a minute. A loincloth? Had he been running around the airport in that thing before they snatched him up and placed him in here? Was this the “you’re in trouble” room?