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.