The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(7)

“You were in your office on Monday,” Arsen said.

Lexi looked at him.

“This is Tuesday,” he added when she didn’t ask.

It took several seconds before Lexi put it together. “Did you drug me?”

Would Marge have even allowed such a tactic? Lexi had read about extreme interventions where reluctant clients could be snatched from the streets. But no, Marge was strictly by the book. She wouldn’t have approved, and Lexi worked back through her memories, finding nothing between her meeting Monday morning and the moment an hour ago when sunlight warmed her face. She’d opened her eyes, feeling stiff but not wanting to move. With no recollection of the missing time.

Arsen was watching as if he knew what she was thinking. He let her sit while her expression changed and the breeze played havoc with her hair.

Finally, he said, “There was a little trouble.”

Lexi narrowed her eyes. “Define trouble.”

“You were running.”

“As in jogging along the 804-footpath running? Normal running?”

“Not normal running.”

“Then what kind of running, exactly?”

“Panic,” Arsen said, tossing twigs into the fire they didn’t need for the heat. “Screaming, tripping, falling. I’m surprised you don’t remember.”

Lexi took a moment to respond. “Technically… it sounds more like kidnapping.”

“Nah, technically it’s saving. All that running, screaming, falling? Falls under the heading of saving.”

The red ants were within inches of her foot, entirely too close, even after she’d moved out of their way. Lexi shifted and very deliberately squashed one ant beneath the heel of her hiking boot before looking up to meet Arsen’s gaze.

“That doesn’t earn you a get-out-of-jail-free card, Bucko.”

“That’s too damn bad, Slick.”

More twigs disappeared into the fire, crackled in the silence, and right then Lexi knew she needed to pay attention. No more charming banter to disarm. She’d lost a full day, with not normal running, where she’d been kidnapped or saved, depending on your definition of the words.

And maybe Marge had introduced Arsen as an intervention guru that day at the Coffee Universe. And maybe he had gotten her to talk about her dreams when under normal circumstances she would not have shared the details.

But Arsen knew things he never should have known. He was telling her things she couldn’t recall, and she was no longer giving the intervention guru the benefit of the doubt.





CHAPTER 4





“You’re not an intervention guru, are you?” Lexi’s gaze flicked toward the dark man who stood so silently he almost disappeared. “Just like he’s not an event planner.”

“We lied to you about that.”

Arsen had intended to shock her. And they’d boxed her in against exposed gritty lava rock that merged into the slope of a rolling hill. Arsen sat in front of her, while the dark-haired predator leaned against the rocky protrusions closest to her hill, closing off all avenues of escape. Not that it mattered, Lexi realized. There was nothing she could detect through the earth energies, no animal or human presence within a thirty-mile radius. They couldn’t have found a more isolated place if they’d tried.

Arsen waited until she looked back at him and he had her full attention. “We’re trying to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You need it anyway.”

“And you seem to know a hell of a lot about what I need,” she said tightly. “Does Marge realize you aren’t an intervention guru?”

“Yes.”

“Why should I even believe you?”

“Because I’ve known Marge for five years.” At Lexi’s sharp laugh, Arsen launched into a lengthy description of Marge’s modest cottage in Rock Cove, what her office looked like, her favorite foods, the brand of coffee she drank, the color of the inside of her refrigerator—stained pink from an unfortunate event involving an open bottle of wine. He even knew the plot of the book she was reading, which Marge said kept her up late at night. After ten minutes Lexi realized Arsen knew more about Marge than she did. He would have continued, but Lexi held up a hand.

“How long as Marge known him?” she asked, flicking her hand toward the lava where the predator lounged.

Arsen hesitated. “Less than five years,” he said.

Lexi smiled in tight vindication. “Is Arsen your real name?”

He flashed that killer smile. Lexi looked away from those lying eyes and toward the man who was not named Smith, all too aware he’d been following the entire exchange.

“What’s your real name?” she demanded.

“Christan.”

Lexi was so certain she knew his name the heat of it burned on her tongue. His voice was quiet and dangerous. Minutes ticked by. Bright heat shimmered in the air. Lexi leaned against her rocky wall while Christan leaned against his, and every muscle in the man’s body clenched with contained power. Raw. He absolutely did not move and yet she imagined the acute sensation of that male gaze drifting against her skin, lingering hard on the pulse beating in her throat.

She sucked in a furious breath. To hell with him! He would not intimidate her.