Gale Force

''I love you,'' I said. ''More than chocolate. And you know how much that means to me.''

''Eat your eggs,'' he said, and gave me that slightly off-kilter smile, with an intriguing tilt of his

head. ''Wouldn't want you to faint like a girl later and blame it on low blood sugar. Again.''

''Hey, buster! When have I ever fainted like a girl?''

He picked up the spoon from his fruit bowl and licked it, slowly and contemplatively, tongue

moving very deliberately around the sleek curves. ''I can think of one or two times.''

''That,'' I said severely, ''is totally unfair.''

''What is?'' He dipped the spoon into the little pot the waitress had left out for my coffee, and

then licked that off, tongue curving lovingly into the bowl of the spoon. ''Mmmm. Fresh

cream.''

I think one of the waitresses dropped a water glass. I distinctly heard one of the other ones

murmur something that sounded like Thank you, Jesus.

''Stop it. Not even you can make me faint with desire, '' I said. I was trying for stern, but it was

coming out more indecisive than anything else. It wasn't that I was weak-willed; it was that

nobody was immune to David when he really put effort into it. Especially me.

''Oh, I don't know,'' he said, and even his voice was pure seduction. ''Five minutes from now,

when I do this thing I was just thinking about-''

''Is it that thing with your little finger? Because I'm ready for that one this time.''

''Oh no,'' he said, very earnestly. ''I was thinking of the thing with my tongue, actually.''

''What thing with your tongue?''

His smile deepened, and sparks flew in the darkness of his eyes. ''You sure you really want me

to demonstrate? Right here?''

I was pretty sure that if he did, there'd be a lot of women asking to order what I was having. I

took a deep, slow, determined breath, and said, ''Play nice, David.''

''I'm always nice.''

Oh, I didn't think so. That was part of his dark, chocolate-rich charm, and as I'd already noted to

him . . . I really couldn't resist chocolate.

He ate the rest of the fruit, nibbling on the moist bites with such suggestiveness that I think every

waitress in the diner made sure to come by and ask if there was anything at all she could do for

him. He never noticed. He was having too much fun making me squirm.

But when I glanced down involuntarily at my watch, he sighed, ate the last bite of cantaloupe,

and nodded. ''Right,'' he said. ''Let's get going.''

''As soon as this is over-''

''Don't think I won't hold you to it.''

Chapter Six

When we came out of the diner, there was a van pulled up behind the car, neatly blocking us in. I

felt my nerves tighten up and shiver, but I silently told them to stand down; I'd already made a

fool of myself over the semitruck, and this would turn out to be just another idiot picking up,

dropping off, or parking badly. In fact, it even looked like a delivery van– battered, a bit

weather-faded.

The sunlight caught a glitter on the door, and I paused, blinked, and tried to convince myself it

was nothing but random metallic paint flecks. Tried hard, but got nothing. I gave it up and took a

quick look in Oversight.

The van took on the dimensions and solidarity of one of those military Humvees, wickedly

armored and decorated with spikes. Tough and badass-that was its essential character,

interpreted for me visually by whatever processing filter the Wardens had that others didn't. The

aetheric showed truth, but it was a subtle and strange kind of truth.

One thing was unequivocal about the truck, though: On the door panel blazed the stylized sun

emblem of the Wardens.

I opened my mouth to warn David, but he already knew, of course. He stopped, studying without

expression the van and whatever occupants it held. All the playfulness was gone, and he

reminded me of a hunting leopard, lean and powerful. His eyes had gone a color that should have

been a warning, and probably would have been to anybody with sense.

Unfortunately, the Warden who got out of the van was Lee Antonelli, and he had less sense than

a pet rock. He was a big guy, and a gifted Fire Warden, but when it came to subtleties, he was

likely to crush them under his big steel-toed boots and never notice. How he'd survived the

Warden/Dji

him in the first place was enough to keep him off the initial hit list, and I strongly suspected he'd

spent most of the conflict hiding out.

I said Lee was big. Not brave. Hence, of course, the unreasonably tough shell of attitude on his

van, not on his person.

He leaned against the passenger side of the van and crossed his arms; they were impressively

muscled, and he'd invested a small fortune in body art. It should have made him look

intimidating. Instead, I thought it made him look like someone doing hard-ass by the numbers,

especially when coupled with the shaved head. ''Warden,'' Lee said to me. He didn't so much as

glance at David. I wondered why, and then I realized that Lee couldn't see him. David had made

himself invisible, although he was still there to my eyes.

''Warden,'' I replied to Antonelli coolly, ''who taught you how to park? I'd say Sears, but

really, they do a much better job. Maybe you were absent the day they explained what those

parallel lines in the lot are for-''

''Shut up, Baldwin. I'm supposed to pick you up and escort you in,'' he said. ''Since whatever

you've got going on is so damn important, I guess I'm riding shotgun.''

This was weird, and it wasn't normal. Lewis knew I was coming; he knew David was traveling

with me. Why send Antonelli, of all people, whom he knew I couldn't stand? Lewis might work

in mysterious ways, but that was downright impenetrable. I bought time to think by digging a

pair of big sunglasses out of my purse and putting them on. There. Without a clear view of my

eyes, Antonelli was going to have a tougher time figuring out what I'd do. ''Shotgun,'' I

repeated, ''so you're the bodyguard. Flattering.''

Antonelli ran one hand over his bullet-shaped shaved head and gave me a grim-looking smile.

''Most ladies would say so.''

''Save the smarm, I'm not in the mood.''

He shrugged. Flirting was reflexive for him; he didn't fancy me, except in the abstract way that

somebody like Antonelli fancied anyone with internal sex organs. If I stood still long enough,

he'd gladly take a turn, but other than that, I was furniture. ''Playtime's over, then. Let's move.

In the van.''

I stayed right where I was, next to the door of the Mustang. ''I'm driving my own car.''

Technically, David was driving, but Antonelli might not know that. In fact, he didn't look nearly

worried enough, so I doubted he had any idea there was an angry Dji

away, eyes lit up like Halloween lanterns.

''Look, I don't know the plan; I'm just following orders. Lewis says take the van; we take the

van,'' Antonelli said. ''I don't ask no questions; neither do you. Come on, sister, let's go. I've

got things to do.''

There was a ring of sweat around the high neck of his muscle shirt, and dark streaks under the

arms. Unless Antonelli had come straight from the gym, something was up. He was nervous.

''We can sort that out,'' I said, and pulled my cell phone from my pocket. ''Let me just call-''

The circuitry inside the phone fried, boiled into vapor in an instant. I dropped the red-hot case

and blew on my blistered fingers. Antonelli hadn't moved, but something about him had