Hidden Fire Read online

  He giggled again and Gili shuddered. The sound, high-pitched and breathy, rasped against her nerves.

  “What the heck makes you think I’d work for you again? It would be just as easy to go to the police and report you for what you did to my father.”

  He invaded her space, his stale breath wafting across her face. Gili tried to move, but he grasped both arms and shook her, holding her in place.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s amazing how quickly accidents can happen. Why, your poor old mom, grieving that her husband has been hurt, might be distracted and walk into the path of another speeding car. Who knows, this time it could be fatal. Such a sad thing.”

  Oh God, not her mother, too. “You leave my parents alone.”

  Despite her bravado, a wave of fear swept through her. Her heart raced. Breathing became difficult. Sweat broke out on her face and she suddenly felt light-headed. It took a major effort to push the panic away and focus on Jeremy. “If I do this, will you promise to leave my folks out of it?”

  “I’ll rip up their contract the moment you bring me the opal.”

  A noise at the entrance to the vault had Gili twisting her head in that direction. Whitey lounged against the doorframe, a folder under one arm. Panic gave her the strength to pull away from Jeremy and turn to face him.

  He was tall, with dark hair prematurely receding, giving him a high forehead. Slight build, whipcord-thin, but as Gili knew to her detriment, far stronger than she was.

  “Just remember this, Gillian,” he said. “If you don’t do what we ask, you’ll have to answer to me. Think how much fun we’d have together. Pain is such a great motivator.”

  Gili shuddered as the words rolled over her. Her thoughts winged back to when she’d returned from that disastrous dig with Morgan. She’d confronted Jeremy about his theft of the ring, but he’d laughed at her and thrown her out of the office as if he couldn’t be bothered with her.

  Not so Whitey. He’d collared her in the alleyway at the side of the museum and grabbed her arm, shoving her against the brick wall of the building. Then he’d come after her and slapped her around a bit. Not a lot, but just enough that she believed him when he told her to keep her mouth shut or she’d be sorry.

  He’d scared her witless, but it was when he’d pawed at her body, ripped her clothes, and described what he’d do to her, that her blood had turned to ice. If the man from the business next door to the museum hadn’t come out to put his garbage in the rubbish bin right at that moment, Gili truly believed Whitey might have lost all control. The memory of that rape scenario and his hands on her body had haunted her dreams for a long time after that.

  Jeremy had always been a little unbalanced, but according to Gili’s father, he’d become even worse since the ring incident in Iran. The race to acquire rare gems, all with paranormal stories attached to them, now consumed him.

  His demeanor had turned manic, his every mood progressively darker. He tailored every joke, comment and action to hurt, and his temper hung on a knife edge; the slightest thing pushing him into a towering rage.

  Whitey was different. As greedy and ruthless as his father, there was something else about him. A lack of conscience maybe? No barrier that defined right from wrong and a total lack of emotion when he carried out his nefarious activities.

  He made Gili feel sick to her stomach. She could almost smell the evil on him and the feeling that he wasn’t above committing murder to get what he wanted grew with each encounter.

  Keeping her distance from both men, she gave into the inevitable. At this point, it looked like the only way to keep her parents safe. “Tell me about the stone you want me to track down.”

  “Smart girl.” A smirk on his face, Whitey sauntered over to join his father. “The gem is an Australian opal called the Dreamtime Fire. It is supposed to be important to the Aboriginal people according to the research I’ve done, connected somehow with their Dreamtime magic.”

  Gili held up a hand. “Hang on, I know very little about the Australian Aboriginal people, let along this Dreamtime you’re talking about. If you want me to track it down, you’d better give me more to go on.”

  From the corner of her eye, Gili noticed Jeremy playing with the ring she’d just spotted on his left hand. Holy heck! The seal ring. I knew he had it.

  The ring from the tomb on the Iranian Plateau that Morgan Hunt had accused her of stealing six years ago. Her mind wanted to dredge up the memories from that time, but she refused to go there. Instead, she concentrated on what Whitey was telling her.

  “These Aboriginal people believe in all types of magic—ghosts, spirits, things that go bump in the night—all types of woo-woo stuff. It’s a load of rubbish if you ask me.”

  “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

  A flash of annoyance slid across Whitey’s face. “Don’t try quoting Shakespeare’s Hamlet at me, girly. A college degree doesn’t make you smarter than me. It’s still all bull. Now, where was I?”

  He paused as if in deep reflection before continuing. “The Dreamtime stories are supposed to be the truth from the old ancestors, connecting the past and the present. Some type of law for them to live by. As for the magic? Who the hell knows.”

  Gili frowned. She wasn’t about to discount all things paranormal. She’d grown up with her parents’ tales of the supernatural encounters they’d experienced in their quest for the truth about ancient cultures.

  “And what’s the connection with this particular gem? The Dreamtime Fire?”

  Whitey walked over and handed her the file. “It’s all in there, or as much as I could find. Basically, it’s a stupid tale about some ‘Great Creator’ appearing as a pelican and showing them how to make fire. Apparently they believe if the opal leaves Australia, the Aboriginal people will lose their fire.”

  She snaked a hand over her shoulder to finger the pelican tattooed on her own shoulder. “And you think they’re going to give up something woven into the fabric of their lives like that? Are you crazy?”

  “Don’t you ever call me crazy again, you hear?”

  She didn’t dodge quickly enough and Whitey managed to slap her across the face. Not especially hard, but enough to bring tears to her eyes and make her bite back any smart comments she might utter.

  In the background, she heard Jeremy mumbling and hissing beneath his breath. She tuned out Whitey for a moment and concentrated on his father. Jeremy cradled the hand he wore the seal ring on, his thumb stroking across the red stone. Gili frowned. For just a second there, she could have sworn the stone was glowing. She shook her head and focused on Jeremy’s words.

  “The fire opal. Find it and I will have all the power I want.” He giggled and kissed the ring. “I will be your most faithful servant. Power. Riches. The most important man in the world.”

  A sense of foreboding filled Gili. This was beyond weird, but something deep in her gut warned her the two were connected. She wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and pointed to the ring. “Now, why don’t you come clean and tell me exactly what this opal has to do with the ring your father is fondling?”

  Whitey pushed his face closer to hers, white teeth flashing as he grinned. “You always were a clever little girl, weren’t you? Well, I guess it can’t do any harm. How much did you find out about the ring when you were in Iran?”

  “How… What… Before or after you stole it?”

  He waved the comment aside as if of no importance. “Turns out the mummy was the body of a follower of some obscure ancient god. When he was executed, his spirit entered the ring. If we bring back the fire opal, the spirit will reward us with untold power. Find all four of these elemental stones—fire, earth, wind, water—and we will rule the world.”

  “Power. Riches,” Jeremy intoned in the background.

  Gili shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Whitey discounted the Aboriginal stories, but was willing to be sucked in
to this legend?

  Whitey laughed. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve looked into all this. And we’ve seen the ring glow. It’s real. And you know the best thing, Gillian? We know how you can find it. Your old friend, Morgan Hunt. I discovered he’s the Guardian of the stone, supposed to protect it.”

  “How the hell did you find that out?”

  He tapped a finger on the side of his nose. “I told you a fancy degree doesn’t make you smarter than I am. I have friends in all the right places. Hunt is definitely the Guardian. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s easy enough to arrange an accident for Mr. Hunt if he doesn’t cooperate. Can’t imagine these academic types are too tough.”

  She drew in a shaky breath, but managed to keep her mouth shut.

  “Anyway, this fire opal belongs to the Aborigines. Get Hunt to show you where it is. Then offer the Aborigines enough money and they’ll be glad to part with it.”

  Gili felt as if her heart had dropped into her boots.

  Morgan Hunt?

  The man who’d once romanced her, swept her off her feet, and then turned round and called her a thief?

  Dear Heavens, how much worse could life get?

  “You do realize these offices are out of bounds to students, don’t you?” Arms crossed over his chest, Morgan Hunt paused in the doorway. He frowned. Hadn’t he locked the office door before his last lecture? Obviously not, which was damned sloppy on his part. “Mind telling me what the hell you think you’re doing?”

  He stared at the woman hunched down on the floor. She had a large map spread out before her and an open book in her hand. Anger flared at her intrusion into his private domain, making him feel decidedly unsociable.

  It had been one heck of a day and he sure didn’t feel like dealing with students right now. Besides, all the students at the university knew better than to enter a lecturer’s office unless specifically invited.

  Despite his annoyance, a flash of heat gathered low in his belly as he eyeballed the female. Hell of an interesting sight to find waiting for him at the end of a busy day. Enough to awaken the libido of even the most jaded of men.

  Hipster jeans so low he could see the top of her butt and the very inviting division between. A bare back, except for some type of skimpy top tied in an intriguing bow that his fingers itched to undo. Red-blonde hair, more flame-colored than blonde, secured in a straggly ponytail that trailed over one shoulder. Hmm, not a bad visual at all.

  She wasn’t dressed any differently than the rest of the student body, but something about the whole picture got to him. He shook his head at where his mind was taking him. Mucking around with students, even if they were adults, was wrong on every level. He knew it went on, but he’d never been party to it.

  Hell, maybe he was just tired. He needed to get out of the city and back to the country.

  At the sound of his voice, the woman twisted her upper body so she could see who it was. Suddenly he saw it. A tattoo just below the curve of her right shoulder. A tattoo he recognized. And not just from that dig he’d headed on the Iranian Plateau six years ago. He’d been seeing that damn pelican in his dreams for the last few months.

  Forget the pelican for the moment though. Right now, he felt as if someone had taken a fist to his gut. The breath wheezed from his chest. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Images swamped his brain. Raunchy, enticing—designed to drag him to his knees if he let them. He thrust them away, determined not to go down that path. At least, not right now.

  “What the hell?” Gili? Gillian Adams?

  His own personal nemesis. “Damn, I don’t need this,” he muttered, moving into the room and edging the door shut.

  Steps measured, he crossed to his desk and stood over Gillian. “So I guess the question should have been what the hell are you doing here, Gili? And I don’t just mean in my office.”

  She jumped to her feet and spun to face him, tottering on impossibly high heels. He reached out and grabbed her arm to prevent her falling. Why in God’s name did women wear shoes like that? She’d break an ankle if she didn’t take care. Then he focused on the book she held clutched to her chest and his eyes narrowed.

  “Hello, Morgan.” She tilted her head on one side and gave him a hesitant smile.

  “I don’t believe I gave you permission to go through my private papers. Rather rude, don’t you think?” He snatched the book out of her hands and tossed it back onto his desk.

  She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have touched your things. The book was sitting there on the desk and I just flicked it open without thinking. To start with, I was only reading it to pass the time until you returned to your office.” With a shake of her head, she released an audible sigh. “But you’re right. I apologize. It was the height of rudeness and a gross invasion of privacy.”

  She reached out a hand and Morgan, thinking she was going for the book again, promptly slammed his fist down on it. It was the journal he’d used to chart his progress in the search for the Dreamtime Fire.

  Damn, he was an idiot. He should have left the book in his apartment. Gillian Adams was the last person he wanted reading his notes.

  He picked it up and made a production of locking it in the top drawer. Then he bent and grabbed the map of Queensland Gili had left on the floor, folding it up and tossing it among the paperwork on the desk. “Why are you here, Gili?”

  “I have a job to do in Australia.”

  “What, you just happened to turn up in Brisbane and at the university while I was here?” Yeah right. “What are you after, Gili?”

  He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. She wasn’t as blasé as she was making out. She shuffled from foot to foot as if getting ready to bolt. And she’d gripped her hands together at her waist, the fingers interlaced, but he could see the tremors every time she flexed them.

  “Well, you did tell me you lectured in Aboriginal anthropology for the summer school program. It didn’t take much effort to find out via the internet that the summer semester in Australia is from November to February.”

  She tucked her arms tightly across her chest and leaned her hip against the edge of the desk. The pose pushed her breasts high and Morgan had no trouble working out she wasn’t wearing a bra. His lower body tightened in reaction at the thought of those breasts. Damn it, six years should have been long enough for his body to forget. Apparently not, but that didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. She’d gotten under his skin once. No way was he letting his guard down this time around.

  “Hi, Gili. Bye, Gili.” He raised one eyebrow and flicked a sardonic smile at her as he pointed over his shoulder. “There’s the door. Don’t let it hit you on the ass on the way out.”

  Okay, that’s totally crass, Morgan old boy, but hell, what does she expect?

  She straightened and dropped her arms, hands fisted at her sides. “Can’t we even have a civil conversation, Morgan? I really do need to talk to you.”

  “For the life of me, I can’t imagine why. Best I remember, we said all we had to say six years ago. Round about the time you tried to seduce me.”

  “I seduced you?” She burst out laughing, although there was more anger than amusement to the sound. “That’s not how I remember it. You trailed around after me for six weeks with your tongue just about wiping the floor. You were determined to get me into bed and everyone on that dig knew it.”

  “Hah, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy every minute of that time. Right up to the moment when you swiped that seal ring out from under my nose.”

  “I. Am. Not. A. Thief,” she spat out, a telling pause between each word. A rush of color flooded her cheeks and her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing.

  As his body responded yet again, Morgan shook his head. It was her fire that had attracted him in the first place. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall into the same trap all over again. Maybe if he pissed her off, she’d get angry enough to march out in a huff and leave him alone.

  “I did not steal that ring
, Morgan.” Her voice had softened, but was just as determined.

  “No, you just provided the distraction so your partner could do the dirty work. A great scheme, I must say. You sure had me fooled.”

  He stared at her, at her glittering eyes and the slight wobble of her little pointed chin.

  Tears?

  Ah, hell, he didn’t mean to make her cry.

  What did you mean, asshole?

  He groaned under his breath. He was being a jerk, but it was the only way he knew to protect himself. He wasn’t about to go through this again.

  “Jeremy was my boss, not my partner. And there was no scheme as far as I was concerned. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Yeah, right.” Keeping his face shuttered and pulling the anger about him like a cloak, he suddenly flicked his fingers. “Hey, come to think of it, you owe me, lady. We never did finish that night of debauchery you started in Iran. Hell, I never even got to use any of those fancy, glow-in-the-dark condoms you bought. Talk about leaving a man hanging. Maybe I should start collecting now.”

  Morgan winced as the words tumbled out of his mouth. He sounded like an arrogant prick. Damn it, he was acting like an arrogant prick, but all he could remember at that moment was the pain she’d left behind when she’d betrayed him and disappeared.

  “Oh my God, do you actually believe that crap you’re sprouting?” she gasped, her face blanching.

  She swallowed and dragged in an audible breath before moving closer and poking her finger in his chest. “The way I remember it, we’d no sooner arrived at the condom stage when you jumped out of bed and took off without any explanation. I lay there for half an hour wondering what the heck I’d done wrong. Only to have you return and accuse me of being a thief. If anyone was left high and dry it was me.”

  Damn. She was right…to a point, anyway.

  “I tried to find you the next morning, but you’d left the site.” He paused a moment. “Along with the ring.”

  “You think I’m going to stay around after that? I’m not that desperate.” She eyed him up and down, a smile full of derision twisting her lips. “Baby, you looked like a good thing, but not that good.”