Free Dreamwalker by Kathleen Dante Page A

real as it gets,” he snapped out, his jaw aching from the effort to keep the conversation professional. He extended his hand, silently demanding the return of his ID.
    “Which doesn’t tell me much. Like why you wanted to meet.” She gave the card back, still holding it by the edges. Her care meant she didn’t leave any fingerprints, but it also spoke well of her competence. “Well?”
    He turned his gaze to the gentle surf, hoping to scale back his innate aggression, so his next statement would be less confrontational. The outcome of this negotiation was too important for ego. “We need you to steal something.”
    She gave a soft grunt of skepticism. “Why should I even listen to you?”
    Damon considered what his mental sense was telling him before answering. “Because you’re bored.”
    Rory blinked at his perceptive retort, further proof of his inexplicable knowledge. Wondering if he really thought she’d be that easy to catch, she arched a brow and widened her eyes, putting on what she considered to be an award-winning show of disbelief. Too bad he continued to watch the waves and didn’t get the benefit of her acting. “Assuming I’m actually in the acquisitions business, you mind telling me what you’re after?”
    Her Adonis kept his eyes trained at the horizon, his clean profile almost heroic. “A nuke.”
    To give herself time to think, Rory laughed. Had she been mistaken and he wasn’t a Fed after all? “You’re kidding me!”
    “I’m dead serious.”
    “You want me to stroll into some military base, load one of those big suckers on a truck, and drive off with it?” The mere thought was ridiculous.
    He turned his head to give her a warm smile that made her insides jitter in a most unfair manner. “It’s a baby nuke, just about the size of carry-on luggage”—his expression blanked so completely it was as though he’d been born grim—“in the hands of terrorists.”
    Conscious of the gritty sand heating up her backside, Rory sat there, her lips stretched wide, waiting for the punch line to his joke. Surely he didn’t think she had anything to do with that violent lot.
    “We need you to liberate it.”
    She stared at him in horrified fascination, losing her smile as he continued to meet her eyes with a level gaze that brooked no nonsense. He was serious . Cold dread swept up her spine. “And how did terrorists get their hands on a nuke?”
    “The Russians lost it. While its payload can be measured in kilotons, it can still mean hundreds—if not thousands—of lives.” His gorgeous features hardened into a mask of bleak anger. “New York, Chicago, Washington.” He named the cities deliberately, as though knowing she’d spent time in all three, his deep voice like a death knell. “The consequences don’t bear thinking of.”
    The Fed’s unswerving gaze made it difficult to maintain her incredulity. He told his story quite well—so well that she had to suppress an instinctive shiver of horror. Still, she wasn’t born yesterday.
    “And you want me to steal it for you.” She raised a brow that wanted to tremble, forcing it to arch steadily. “From terrorists.”
    He shook his head curtly. “From an arms dealer who’s auctioning it off to terrorists.”
    That was scarcely an improvement. “Where?”
    “Kosovo.”
    Rory heard his answer through a roaring in her ears, a sense of unreality enfolding her. Of course Kosovo. If he’d said China or Korea or one of the Stans, she could have protested that her grasp of the local dialects wasn’t good enough to pass. But it hadn’t been that long since her jaunt to Peć, a town in the UN protectorate. Language wouldn’t be a problem.
    “Yes,” he continued, as if she’d spoken aloud, “the Ipek Crucifix. It’s why we chose you—someone who can operate in the Balkans without drawing attention.” An admiring smile lifted the corners of his chiseled mouth. “The theft was flawless. Not a trace left behind. No one had a clue