Prologue
“No, thank you.” Jessica tried to ignore the
man’s immediate glare at her response, but her hands shook when she grabbed the
nearest pile of books.
“I’ll double your salary.”
“You’ve already said that,” she reminded him.
“I’ll triple it,” he countered, his palms
slapping onto the desk in front of her.
She looked up at him, taking in the granite
expression and darkening eyes. Huh-oh, looked like someone was getting pissed
off. Too bad she didn’t much care. She’d already turned down his job offer, and
nothing he would say would convince her otherwise. “I said no.”
“You can’t say no,” he growled, showing far
too well how unused he was to people saying that word to him.
“I sure can.” She sent him a bright–and very
fake–smile. “Now, do you mind? I need to close the library.”
“I’m not leaving here until you say yes.”
She’d been in the middle of putting her coat
on, but his words made her pause. “You’re not leaving? You have no choice! I’m
closing the library, and that’s that.”
“Look, lady, I don’t think you understand−”
Her face reddening, she cut him off, “No, Mr.
Layton, I don’t think you understand. You offered me a job, I turned it
down. End of the discussion. Now, would you mind please leaving so I can go
home? Some people have worked today.” With that, she grabbed her purse and
laptop case, and strode to the front doors, expecting to hear him following
her. He didn’t. Exasperated, she whirled around, only to gasp when she found
him in front of her. Far too close in front of her.
His gaze captured hers and he said, his voice
low, “You’re sleepy.”
Jessica’s eyebrows snapped together. “No, I’m
not.”
His eyes widened in apparent surprise, or
maybe it was shock. Two seconds later, he repeated, “You’re sleepy. You want to
sleep. Now !”
“Are you drunk?” was her only response,
wondering if maybe she should have told Tom to stay. He’d asked her if she
could do him a favor by closing the library for him, knowing that she would
work until the very last minute. She loved it in here. It was quiet and
peaceful, the old books her refuge. Her income too. She hadn’t expected a
prospective employer to turn up just before it was time to leave however. For
that matter, who knew if the job even was real? Maybe the guy was a serial
killer and he got a kick out of kidnapping frumpy researchers? Oh God! She slid
her hand behind her back and patted around the cold metal of the doors, trying
to find the handle. She needed to get out of here…and pronto!
“You’re not sleepy?” he asked, stopping her
in her tracks.
He looked bemused, his face all of a sudden
less scary. More approachable even. Considering how easily he loomed over her,
that was quite a feat. She watched him cross his arms over his chest, the
leather of his brown leather jacket crinkling as if the seams were only seconds
away from wrenching open. He was so heavily built, so damn muscled, she
wouldn’t be surprised if it happened. Realizing he was waiting for her answer,
she struggled to remember what he’d asked her. “No. Huh, I mean, I’m sure I
will be once I get home, but for that I need to close the library. Remember?”
“Yes,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “My
memory works very well, thank you. Now, are you sure you’re not sleepy?”
She blinked. “Is this a joke? Am I getting
Punk’d or something?”
“No, why would you be?” He looked down at
her, and she winced.
That was a very good point. Who would be
interested in surprising a thirty-something ancient Greek expert who hid
herself under too big clothes? “Goodbye then, Mr. Layton.”
“No, good night, Ms James.”
Before she could say anything else he moved,
so fast she had trouble following what he was doing. That was probably why she
never realized she was falling. Her eyes closed and she slumped forward, dead
to the world.
* * * *
Drake
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