Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

He moved in slowly, giving her time to react, but she didn't stop him. What they were doing was surely a mistake. His touch had always been addictive, but maybe the memories were better than the reality. Maybe she just needed to see if she'd been holding onto something that had never existed.

He didn't put his hands on her. Not yet. His lips hovered over hers, and the heat between them was palpable. Then he was kissing her, and old memories and thoughts of right or wrong vanished. This was the here and now, and it was better than anything she could've imagined.

His mouth slanted over hers--devoured--invaded--and her fingers curled into his chest as his tongue stroked against hers. It was then his arms slid around her, and his hands tightened at her hips.

Someone moaned, and she found herself moving closer, so there was no space left between them. Nothing else mattered at that moment but the feel of his hands and mouth on her. The desire was as strong as it had ever been--more so with the time they'd spent apart--and she didn't care that reality would soon set in. For this moment, she gave him everything she had and knew that he did the same. And if their circumstances had been different, she'd have let him take everything she was offering and more, and have no regrets, because she knew she'd never feel as whole as she did when they were joined.

It was Miranda who finally pulled apart. Their breaths were labored and their gazes intense as they held each other in a loose embrace. There was no need for words or explanations. That time would come.

"I've got an idea," Lucas finally said.

LESS THAN AN HOUR later, they heard the slam of car doors and knew the moment of their escape had arrived.

"You ready?" Lucas whispered.

Miranda nodded, and they took their places. They'd left the door to the cell wide open and empty so Damian's crew would think them long gone, but they had a couple of surprises up their sleeves.

Doyle was the first to cross the threshold, just as Lucas had hoped, and he gave the guy a quick chop to the brachial plexus, sending him to his knees. Lucas grabbed him under the arm before he could face plant and tossed him into the cell as he heard the blasting cap detonate once Ryan came into the room. The blasting cap wasn't enough of an explosion to do serious damage, but it sure as hell disoriented Ryan enough that Miranda was able to toss Ryan in the cell with Doyle. She quickly checked both of them for weapons and came out with a couple of pistols.

"Was it there?" Lucas asked like a boy looking under the tree on Christmas morning.

"Was what there?" she taunted.

"My gold coin? They took it after sucker punching me in the alley behind the bar." He rubbed his jaw with a crooked scowl.

Her smile beamed as gold twinkled between her thumb and forefinger. It spun across the creep of dusk that faded through the small window. He snatched it in midair.

"Come on in, Damian," Lucas said. "We've been waiting for you."

"I can see that," Damian said, smiling a snake charmer's smile. He was always a politician. Always polite, even as he raked the knife across an opponent's throat. "I'm not sure what you're planning to accomplish here, Lucas, but you know as well as I do that I'll always be one step ahead of you."

"If that were true, you'd know I found the Thanksgiving Treasure more than ten years ago."

Damian laughed, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Now, there's no reason to lie. You and I both know if you'd found that treasure every media outlet in the world would've been alerted."

"You never did do research worth a shit," Lucas said, holding the gun on the other man. "Get into the cell." He reached inside Damian's suit jacket and pulled out the pistol he had holstered, like some modern-day mob boss.

"He's got a backup weapon too," Miranda said. "I can see the outline." She took the one from his waist and then patted his legs, taking one from an ankle holster as well.

Damian moved into the cell with the other two men, who were starting to stir, though they were both disoriented. Lucas closed the cell door and held it while Miranda chained and padlocked it again, then she broke one of the bobby pins she carried in the lock so they couldn't use the key once they escaped.

"You know you're making a huge mistake," Damian said, eyeing the rusted bed frame distastefully. "I was going to give you the opportunity to find the Thanksgiving Treasure on live television, and then you'd, of course, get a small portion of the find. Did I mention that I bought the little travel show you've been hosting? I think I'm going to have to fire you."

"Yeah, I've got to tell you I really don't care," Lucas said. "You'll run that show into the ground within a couple of months because you actually have to be a treasure hunter to keep people entertained. Your idea of being a treasure hunter is stealing what other people find."

Damian shrugged. "Semantics," he said. "But I have the name and the money to do exactly what I want to do, which is why you and the good doctor here are going to get that gold whether you want to or not. Your reputation will be in tatters by the time I'm through with you if you don't."

"We've been thinking of retiring anyway," Lucas said nonchalantly, though Damian's words bothered him more than he wanted them to. He'd worked hard to build a solid reputation as an explorer and treasure hunter, and a lot of his work came because of his experience. As had Miranda. She'd worked damned hard to be known as an expert in what was considered a man's field.

"Not to mention the fact," Lucas said, stepping back from the bars, "that even if the treasure were still available, I'd never help you take what rightfully belongs to the Pequot. Their tribe was essentially wiped out because of that gold. They deserve e

very bit of it and more."

"Give me a break," Damian laughed. "From one greedy son of a bitch to another. I've seen you on too many finds. You love the feel of fortune in your hands."

"Sure I do. But I also know when something greater is at work than stumbling across a mound of gold that's almost four-hundred-years old. Sometimes you do the right thing just because it's the right thing. Life doesn't always have to be a negotiation for the largest finder's fee."

"Those people have enough money," Damian spat, his anger finally beginning to show. "They're sitting on millions of dollars the government gave them out of pity. They didn't do anything for it."