Excerpt One:
I stood at the doorway leading into the vaults of Mr. Walter Prescott’s most prized Neotact artifacts and debated how to steal one. Muted lights reflected over the black square of glass across from me. A hand scanner. 

“No keypad. Right,” I said under my breath before pulling off my leather gloves. Air conditioning hummed from the vents of the high-rise tower in San Antonio’s downtown district, and I let the cool air wash over my exposed skin. 

A cold shiver skittered down my spine, and I darted a glance at the dimly lit hallway stretching behind me. If things went south, it was my only escape. My new manager, King Khamron, had gotten me this far, but he’d stayed on the bottom floor near the building’s entrance to keep an eye out.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the scanner. The glass interface seemed to taunt me. My boss would kill me if I couldn’t break inside.

Why did it have to be a handprint scanner? Why couldn’t they use a no frills, super reliable—and easily hijacked—keypad? 

As I concentrated, I sighed in frustration. A jolt of energy sparked through my fingertips. The electrical pulses had gotten stronger since I’d returned from Egypt two weeks ago, and I chalked it up to being exposed to the legendary ankh artifact. Darrell Brownstein, a convicted serial killer and Blood Raider, had planned to kill me with it, but instead, I’d used the ankh against him. He was dead now, along with a dozen of his followers.

Still, there were other Blood Raiders out there intent on taking the Neotact artifacts, which had led me to standing here at the vault of Walter Prescott, father of the famed Jagg Ransom, debating how to break in.

Jagg. I shook my head as an image of his ruggedly handsome face intruded on my memories. I hadn’t seen much of him since we’d returned from Egypt. A week ago, he’d told me he was traveling. Didn’t say where. Hadn’t even texted me since. 

Long strands of brunette hair came loose from my ponytail and tickled my cheeks. As I pushed them away from my face, I once again attempted to concentrate on the hand scanner. Jagg Ransom was nothing but a distraction. The idea of turning around and telling King that I’d failed wasn’t a pleasant prospect. 

I glanced up at the glass doors barring the vault. I could always break through the glass, but I was sure every security sensor in the building would start blaring the moment I did it.

No, I’d have to be creative about getting inside. I tapped my fingers on my lips, noticing the little electrical pulses popping at my skin like rubber bands. Odd that my powers were reacting this way after touching the ankh.

What if my ability isn’t just different? I asked myself. What if it’s more powerful?

With a deep inhale, I forced my doubts aside and placed my hand against the glass of the hand scanner. My heart raced, and I hoped the scanner couldn’t detect a person’s anxiety through its circuits. If so, I’d get fried in a heartbeat. 

A yellow line glowed, starting at the top and moving down. I focused on sensing the last person’s hand that had touched the screen. Closing my eyes, I paid attention to the imprint of every swirl, every arch, every loop. Then, I sent a surge of energy into my hand, morphing it until it matched each of the previously used fingerprints. 

I held my breath. If this didn’t work, and I got caught, I’d land in jail faster than I could blink.

Please work, please work, I chanted under my breath. Sweat beaded on my brow as I stared at the scanner.

Maybe it had been Jagg’s father’s hand that had been here. Maybe it had been Jagg himself. With that thought, my heart gave a sudden leap, and I could only imagine how angry Jagg Ransom would be if he knew I was breaking into his father’s prized vault.

Concentrate, I reminded myself, the yellow light still scanning up and down. A single beep chimed, and the light turned green. I released a pent-up breath. The door slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing the interior of the vault.

***

Excerpt Two:
Stray sunbeams had just crested the horizon when I spotted Jagg. You would’ve been blind not to notice him. He wore a bomber jacket over a white T-shirt, Hawaiian shorts, and flipflops. And Lexi accused me of having no fashion sense. His bleached blond cornrows were highlighted in the early rays of the morning sun. The strands of his unruly hair fell past his shoulders and were in desperate need of a trim. His large frame barely fit into one of the metal chairs. 

A surge of pure, heady excitement spiked straight through me at the sight of him. I was forced to stop walking, take a deep breath, and recenter myself. 

“Just keep it together,” I said under my breath.

He sat reading a menu and hadn’t looked up yet. I could turn around right now and walk away. I’d tell him I’d suddenly gotten sick. He could tell me whatever he needed over the phone. No need to meet in person. No need to actually look at him and be forced to admit that whatever feelings I had for him were not only real, but impossible to ignore.

“Hey, Blossom,” he said without looking up. How’d he know I was here? He hadn’t taken his eyes off the menu.

“Oh, hey,” I answered shakily. 

He lowered the menu a fraction of an inch and gave me a once-over, and I nearly choked at his overbearing gaze, as if he were sizing me up. I casually cleared my throat and closed the distance between us. The chair squeaked loudly as I pulled it out, and I sat awkwardly across from him with a straight back and my fingers threaded together.

“Chips?” He scooted the basket to me.

“Oh.” I swallowed. “Thanks.”

He arched a dark eyebrow that perfectly accentuated his Caribbean blue eyes, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop the onslaught of butterflies from attacking my insides. “Everything okay?” he asked casually as he took a bite.

I stuffed a handful of tortilla chips in my mouth. “Yesh…” I muttered. “Fine.”

“Right,” he answered unconvinced. A glass of water sat on the table, and I grabbed it and took a drink, managing to choke a bit before sputtering and clearing my throat.

“You seem flustered,” he added.

“I—I’m…” Deep breaths, I thought to myself. He’s just an ordinary person. No need to lose your head. “I didn’t get much sleep,” I admitted. “Stayed up late working a case for Greyson.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his too-perfect lips. “Oh yeah. That. The skull, huh? I heard about it. Dad’s furious. Nice work.”

I grabbed another chip. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Lucky guess,” he answered. “You’re the best when it comes to stealing Neotact objects. Figured it was you who did it.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I said sheepishly. “Does your dad know it was me?”

“No, and I won’t be the one to tell him, either. Although I’m sure he suspects Greyson was involved. Those two are always at each other’s throats.”

“Yeah. I’ve noticed.” I tapped my fingers on the tabletop. “So, what are we discussing that’s so urgent?”

“This.” He reached into the pocket to retrieve a folded piece of yellowed parchment with torn edges. He moved the menu aside and unfolded the paper, then smoothed it over the tabletop.

Dozens of islands were inked onto the page, and letters written in looping calligraphy denoted a few of the landmarks.

“What’s this?” I asked, turning the map so I could read a few of the names. Montague Island, Akuliak, Knight Island.

“It’s a map I found in the Templar vaults beneath Dunmoor Castle,” he explained. “I’ve been in Scotland for the past week and a half doing some research.”

“Really?” I asked incredulously. “You went to Scotland and didn’t tell me? And you got into the vaults?”

“Yes and yes,” he answered, an edge of finality to his voice, as if he didn’t want me to press the issue. “If you must know, the Crimson Knights are panicked about the Blood Raiders potentially finding the five artifacts. They knew I was helping find them, so they allowed access.”

“Fine. What did you find out?” I was bothered that he’d gone without me. Made me feel like he was hiding things from me. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I already knew full well that Crimson Knights prided themselves on keeping secrets. Still, weren’t we supposed to be working as a team?  

***

Excerpt Three:
My boots sank into a foot of snow. I followed in Jagg’s and Elijah’s footsteps. The beams of our flashlights cut through the darkness like razors. The moonless night brought no light. When we left the glow of the cabin behind, I felt as if we walked into a wall of inky blackness.

With so little to see, I focused on my other senses. Sounds of our footsteps shifting through the snow. The howl of a wolf far in the distance. The bite of icy cold on my nose and tips of my ears. The deep tenor of Jagg’s voice just ahead as he spoke quietly to Elijah. Why had my heartbeat suddenly sped at the sound of his stupid voice?

I shook my head and did my best to force the thoughts from my head. Why on earth was I still attracted to the man? Maybe because on a very few occasions, he could be a decent person, and I had to admit, he’d handled Sienna well. It could’ve been easy for him to intimidate her to make her stay inside, but he’d chosen to use kindness instead. I had to respect him for that.

But it didn’t matter, anyway. Finding Gael and reuniting him with his family were my top priorities. My own personal romantic feelings for a certain brutish, uncivilized gazillionaire didn’t matter.

I shone my flashlight over the ground and on the bushes, looking for any stray footprints or broken branches, but saw nothing. As I searched, I ran straight into Jagg as he stopped abruptly in front of me. He reached out and grabbed my arm, helping to steady me. The scent of his leather jacket surrounded me and filled me with a sense of unanticipated calmness. 

“Careful there,” he said in a deep whisper, his lips close to my ear, which did nothing to abate the onslaught of butterflies flitting through my stomach.

My flashlight’s beam wavered, so I had to hold it with both hands. 

“I haven’t found any trace of them.” I spoke quietly, feeling that if I spoke any louder, I would wake whatever spirits haunted this place.

“I haven’t either,” he said. “But it’s impossible to see anything out here.”

The sound of the wolf’s howl grew louder, until it didn’t sound like a wolf at all, but more humanlike. 

“You hear that?” Jagg asked.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Wolf?”

“Let’s hope so,” he answered.