“Of course you’re not. At least not twice,” she warned.

“There’s no need for bravado. We’re on the same side.”

“You don’t know what side I’m on.”

“The Fractogasts killed your husband. They killed my parents. I’d say that puts us on the same side.”

How had he known about that? It wasn’t exactly something she talked about openly.

As she scoured her mind for some logical way that he would know her misfortune, she asked, “And which side is that?”

“The one that wants them all to burn in hell.”

He made a good point. “And they have this hammer of yours.”

“Yes.”

“And you think I can steal it back?”

“I know you can. I made the boots, remember? I know what they allow you to do, which means you’re perfect for the job. Unless, of course, you haven’t yet figured out all the boots’ tricks.”

That gave her pause. She knew she could walk around in them unseen. Also that they worked on the Fractogasts, unlike several other artifacts she’d come across. But what if that wasn’t the extent of their power? What if she wasn’t using them to their fullest potential? “Tell me what they can do and I’ll tell you if I already know or not.”

He smiled at her, and that smile carved out a cute little dimple in one cheek. “I don’t think so. Any lever I have to gain your cooperation, I’m going to use. You want to know what they do, you go after the hammer with me.”

“With you?” She laughed. “Even if I do agree to go on this job—which I haven’t—there’s no way I’m bringing along baggage they can see. I work alone.”

“Ah, so you haven’t figured out that power yet.”

She stared, unwilling to let him know that she had no clue what he was talking about.

“I’ll show you how it works if you tell me why you don’t want to help me.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I really don’t want to die. If the Fractogasts have your hammer, then it’s gone.”

“I made a promise to get it back—one I intend to see fulfilled.”

“What’s so important about it? What value can it possibly have that’s worth you trading your life for? Or mine?”

“They’re using it to build a portal. Once that’s done, they’ll bring more of their own kind here. Right now there are only a few of them, and you’ve seen the devastation they’ve caused. What do you think will happen if untold numbers of their kind can simply walk through a portal and end up in our own backyard?”

Since the night she’d escaped, Simone had made it a point to spend as little time thinking about those creatures as possible. It had been an act of willpower to keep her mind away from the evil puzzle they created. Like a tongue going to a newly chipped tooth, her thoughts always strayed back to them and why they might be here, over and over again until she was filled with helpless anger and debilitating fear.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t want to stop that from happening,” said Brighton.

“It falls firmly into the column of things labeled Not My Problem.”

“And that’s good enough for you?” he asked. “They kill someone you love and you don’t give a damn?”

A flurry of rage took over her limbs, giving them a burst of power. Before she even recognized what she was doing, she had Brighton pinned against a tiny strip of wall near the doorway to the bathroom. Her forearm was against his throat, and the single, perfect knife a fraction of an inch away from his eye.

“They took everything from me. Everything. When they were done with me, there wasn’t enough left of me to fight.”

He wasn’t scared of the knife. He didn’t try to push her away. He didn’t even blink. “You seem fine now.”

“Yeah? Well, looks can be deceiving.”

His chest expanded with a breath, making her acutely aware of just how much of her was pressed against him. Hard, masculine contours flattened her breasts. Her thigh brushed his, and the heat of him sank right through her riding leathers.

That small part of him was hers now, connecting them in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “If there’s anyone left on this planet that you care about, then you owe it to them to shut down that portal before it’s finished.”

He was right. She’d been running away for a long time now. At first it had been all she could do, but now that she’d healed—mostly—there were no more excuses.

She shoved away from him, breathing deeply to depressurize some of the intense vibes this man threw off. “Tell me about the job.”

She could almost hear his sigh of relief. Whether it was due to her moving the knife or because of her interest in the job, she couldn’t tell.

“There’s an abandoned warehouse a couple hours’ drive from here. They’re using it to hide their work, but I . . . felt what they were doing.”

“Felt?” She peeked over her shoulder.

He waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. “It’s this thing I can do—sensing the innate powers within an object. And the portal they’re building is powerful enough that when I got within a few miles, I knew what they were doing, and that the hammer was aiding their efforts.”

“So why not just get a bunch of explosives and blow the place to hell?”

“One, because gathering explosives would draw too much attention. Two, even if I had them, there’s no way I’d be able to get in and plant them without being caught. And three, chances are there are innocent people in there, being used.”

Simone knew all too well about that part. “You sure?”

“Something’s fueling their construction efforts. I really doubt it’s the local power and light company.”

“So you want me to go in and plant explosives?”

“No. I want you to steal the hammer. It’s one of the few tools around with enough juice to build something that powerful. If we take it away, then they have to stop building.”

“Until they find the next tool.”

“Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. You stealing the hammer was the best plan I could come up with that wasn’t going to get anyone killed.”

“With a plan like that, you need me for more than just stealing.”

He frowned at her. “You don’t like my plan? Fine. Give me a better one.”

“For starters, we could let someone else deal with it.”

“Who? The police?”

“Of course not. The Fractogasts would plow through them.”

“Then who?”

“I hear rumors about a group of people arming up to deal with the threat.”

“The militia?”

“Yeah. You’ve heard of them, too?”

“I am one of them. And we’re not a group of superheroes who are going to swoop in and save the day. We’re just people. Like you. We’re all trying to do what we can to fight back the invasion.”

“Well, hell. For a while there, I actually had some hope that someone was in charge.”

“Someone is in charge, but we’re stretched thin. It’s one of the reasons I reached out to you for help. If we’re going to have any chance of winning, we need more people fighting—people who know the score.”

“I don’t fight for free.”

“Why do you think I spent the last several weeks working my ass off eighteen hours a day to make that purse to your ridiculously demanding standards?”

The way he said it made her sound like a greedy harpy instead of a savvy businesswoman.

Luckily, the pang of guilt didn’t last long. “You’ll thank me for my high standards if I agree to do the job.”

“My offer is on the table. Do you want it or not?”

She wanted that purse and the knives. And if she was completely honest with herself, she wanted to kill every Fractogast she could get her hands on. Slowly.

The only downside was the risk. Not that she was risking much. The life she’d carved out for herself since Jeremy’s death hadn’t exactly been a happy, shiny place.

“Fine,” she told him. “I’ll help you. It’s obvious you’ll get yourself killed if I don’t tag along.”

Sarcasm honed a sharp edge on his tone. “I’m sure my death would cost you many sleepless nights.”

“I would mourn the loss of that purse. And the knives.”

“We can’t have that now, can we?”

“Nope.”

“So, you’re in?”

“All the way. But if you die doing something stupid, the purse is mine. Deal?” She held out her hand to shake on it.

Brighton wrapped his fingers around hers and held on tight. She felt warm, work-roughened patches of skin graze across nerve endings she’d thought long dead. A tiny little spark of feminine interest zinged along her palm and into her wrist, shocking the hell out of her.

How long had it been since she’d felt that? Too many years to remember, and every one of them had sucked.

Feeling like a dirty cheater, she jerked her hand away and wiped it on her thigh.

“I don’t have cooties,” he said, half grinning at her actions.

“You drive. I’ll follow behind on my bike.”

Well out of reach of Marcus Brighton and those magic hands.

—

Marcus spent the two-hour drive gathering his wits. Something he’d done had spooked Simone, and the last thing he needed was for her to be distracted on this job. Even if she did come up with some ingenious plan, they were still risking their lives.

He parked on top of a hill overlooking the industrial park where the Fractogasts worked. His windshield wipers cut through the fine coating of drizzle a passing rainstorm had left behind.

There were few lights below—only a red pool here and there dotting the darkness. Just enough for human eyes to function.