whatever day you were born. As to incentive? I’m in the mood for a little challenge, and may Poseidon himself strike me down if that’s not the truth.”
Oddly enough, the man paused and looked to the windows for a moment before continuing. “I don’t need money, and clearly you don’t, either, from the looks of this place. So we both do this for the fun of it. Why don’t we have a little fun together this time?”
The double entendres in every sentence out of his sinfully gorgeous mouth was sending little shock waves through her nerve endings. Have a little fun together, indeed. She’d like to have naked fun with him . . . Oh. No. She was doing it again. She clenched her fists and tried to remember all the reasons this was such a bad idea.
“I don’t trust you,” Hopkins said flatly, aiming his deadliest stare at Christophe. “I wouldn’t trust you with the good silver, let alone a priceless jewel from the British royal collection. Certainly not with Lady Fiona.”
“Right. Patriotism?” Christophe rolled his eyes. “From the man who was obviously helping her steal the Siren from queen and country in the first place? Try again.”
“We’re going to do it,” Fiona said. “I’ll be your partner, for this one time, and one time only.”
Hopkins jerked his head to stare at her in disbelief. “But—”
“We have no options. He will promise never to disclose my identity if we do this, correct?”
Christophe tilted his head and considered her for a long moment, then nodded. “Yes. You have my word.”
Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
Page 38 of 188
Something changed in the air—a tingle of power washed over Fiona and she shivered. Words had power, and perhaps his words had more power than most.
Hopkins narrowed his eyes, studying Christophe, but then he slowly shook his head. Fiona knew he must be using that extra sense he had—a super-hyped sense of intuition—that let him read people and their intent. “No. I don’t care if you believe you won’t hurt her. I can’t trust—”
In a flash of movement far too quick for her eyes to follow, Christophe was at Hopkins’s side, twin daggers raised, one to each side of her butler’s throat. “I respect your need to protect Fiona, but do not question my word, or my honor, as I accord you the same.”
Before any of them could move, Christophe sheathed his daggers and bowed to Hopkins. “I give you my sworn oath that I will not cause harm to come to her, nor will I allow any other to harm her.”
That sense of power was back, but more than a tingle this time—more of a jolt. Fiona noticed that the hair on Declan’s head and arms was standing straight up.
“Perhaps, since we’re no longer actually living in the time of William the Conqueror,” she said, in case they didn’t understand her point, “you might address any promises about me to me.”
Christophe swung around to face her and strode across the space between them with the arrogant confidence of a conqueror himself. “And so I should. I give to you, my ninja, my sworn oath not to lay a single hand on any part of your extremely luscious body.”
She blinked. “Well. Right. Then let’s—”
“Until you ask me to.” He bowed again, to her this time, and she stared down in disbelief at his lowered head and his broad, muscled back. As he straightened, she considered whether or not it was bad form to shoot the man. Again. He had the nerve to grin at her and she dove for her tranq gun.
Declan pulled her back and put his arm around her shoulders, probably sensing her need to do violence.
“Should we start planning?” he asked. “I can work on a longer time-out for the cameras, but they’re going to be tougher to crack now that they caught us.”
“We can discuss plans tomorrow. It is very late, and Lady Fiona must make an appearance in the morning. Preferably without bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep,” Hopkins said, taking charge of the room the way
Aziz Ansari, Eric Klinenberg