He didn’t understand what the hell was going on, but then he turned around a bend and hit the brakes,
hard
. A bright, cheery little town bustling with people popped up from out of nowhere.
The dirt road ended just in front of him, turning into a cavalcade of cobblestone leading him right to—
her
. On a fucking silver platter. Seated at an outdoor bistro surrounded by what looked like half the town, Heather Stallbridge enjoyed a cup of something steaming hot.
He got out of the car and stared, trying to comprehend his new circumstance. People laughed and talked in German, not a word spoken in English, and he had to look around him again to see if he stood on a movie set or in an authentic Bavarian town. A few of the older people wore long dresses and lederhosen, while the younger crowd dressed in jeans and light jackets to ward against the cold even now turning warmer, like a brisk fall day despite the snowy mountains to the south.
Jack couldn’t understand the increase in temperature, especially since the elevation had remained constant while he drove. What the hell had he happened into?
For over two goddamn weeks, he’d been trying to find Heather Stallbridge, and she suddenly appeared like magic in the middle of nowhere? His gut started to churn, the joy all around him now mired in suspicion, danger, and a disconcerting sense of nearby power.
Under his boots, something stirred. The ground trembled, though no one seemed to feel it but him. Energy twined through the rubber soles of his boots, past his wool socks into his heels, and then spread throughout his body.
As one, the people in town stopped and turned to stare at him.
What the fuck?
He swallowed a moan as pleasure enveloped him. The energy swirled up his legs, centered in his groin, and continued up into his chest until it finally settled in his brain. He felt his body grow taller, becoming stronger, ready to face any threat. And the living power inside him approved.
The townsfolk seemed frozen, and then in the span of a heartbeat, they returned to their business, talking and laughing as if it this Stepford moment was normal.
But the woman… Heather didn’t smile as widely as she had before. She seemed spooked and refused to look at him, which bothered him to no end. He shoved his hand in his pocket and fingered the picture, intent on finding out what it was about her that made him
want
her so damn much.
She had to be like Owen. He’d never been able to put his finger on it, but he knew Owen had skills—psychic skills. The shit stolen from his warehouse that Jack’s team continued to recover was cursed, possessed, or paranormal in some way or another. It figured Owen and his baby sister would be outside of normal too.
Jack stared hard at her, unable to look away from the golden head nodding at something a woman said. Even from this distance, he knew he could drown in her gaze, that the deep green of her eyes would reach out and soothe all the aches and loneliness he kept buried inside.
He blinked and took a step back, not sure why he’d gone so introspective. Jack didn’t do emotions other than caution, like, and lust. And he wished to hell he felt nothing for this woman.
He had to figure out what he’d gotten himself into, or rather, what
she’d
stumbled over. But not now, and not with an audience motioning for him to join them. He moved back into his car, parked a block down the street next to a shiny black Mercedes, and found the closest pub for something to drink.
The bartender, slid him the best beer he’d ever had in his life. Jack finished it in record time and ordered another. One way or another, he’d get Heather back to Owen and out of his life…and his pocket. He took out the photo, swore as he glanced at it again, then repocketed it and took another swig of beer.
HEATHER HAD HOPED the guy wouldn’t approach her, though he seemed the type to ignore good sense. Huge, menacing, like an animal with a thorn in its paw, the stranger exuded danger the way Gretchen, next to her, exuded chatty nervous energy. And where the hell had the stranger come from, anyway? She hadn’t seen anyone new in town since she’d arrived two weeks ago.
This place put the W in
weird
. She’d been trying to leave, with or without her book, but every time she managed to get near the gate through which she’d entered, one of the townspeople found her and somehow managed to convince her to stay. And that main road where the new guy had shown up? Fifty feet from where she sat, around the bend, it dead-ended in the forest. So where had the giant come from? It was like a bad
Twilight Zone
episode, except the people here were nice…for the most part. She had no idea what they wanted with her, except to make her their new best friend. Bizarro.
If that weren’t strange enough, she couldn’t seem to hold on to her book,
Chronicles
. The blasted thing had to be cursed. It had been stolen from her family over a year ago, retrieved five weeks ago, and before she’d had a chance to fully translate the code hidden in the pages, she’d lost it somehow in this funny town.
Because of the book, she’d found herself stranded here. Wherever the hell
here
really was. The town didn’t exist on a map, on Google Earth, or in any atlas she’d ever seen.
She nodded at Gretchen again, thanking fate that she’d learned the Bavarian dialect of German at an early enough age to speak it like a native.
Way to go, Granddad
. The old woman shared gossip about who was dating whom and which woman had burned her husband’s breakfast that morning. In a town the size of three hundred, everyone pretty much knew everyone.
“Yes, so handsome. This one we like. He and you will make big, strong babies. I can feel it.”
Heather tuned back into the conversation. “
What
?”
“Yes. Jan knows much about things.”
From what Heather had seen, Gretchen’s brother knew how to skin venison and could shoot through the eye of a needle. Now the man knew things? She suddenly had a bad, bad feeling about her stay, especially if he knew the truth about her. She’d been pretending to be Heather Wurtz, great-niece to the town’s oldest woman, the local wise woman and a revered leader. The first person she’d met, Ida had insisted on a private audience, for which Heather remained eternally grateful. Ida had proclaimed Heather her long-lost niece, and like that, Heather had found acceptance and security. An ally in a place she’d never imagined might be so dangerous.
Apparently, the Stallbridge name was hated enough to get her killed, and she had no urge to find herself gutted and strung up the way Jan’s deer had been just a few days ago. In this place, Ida might be respected, but Ralf Baer kept the law with a mighty fist. And his sons Ernst and Klaus gave her the shivers. She didn’t like the way they looked at her.
Which led her thoughts back to the stranger. Should she put him on the good list or bad list? He didn’t seem to be one of them. It appeared he’d come upon the town like she had, out of the blue. A sudden thought hit her. What if Owen had sent him? She’d told her brother over and over to leave her alone, that she needed to solve this riddle by herself, to contribute something of her own to the family. Determined to fulfill the quest started by her great-grandfather, Heather meant to solve the puzzle in that damn book. But Owen wouldn’t let it rest. And if he’d sent the stranger, he just might get her killed.
She stood suddenly. “Um, Gretchen? I’ll be right back.”
Gretchen winked at her. “If I wasn’t sixty-eight, I might make a play for him myself. I’ll be here.” She held up her cup of tea and raised it in appreciation, then took a drink and turned to converse with her neighbor.
Heather took the opportunity to slide away from the tea party, as she’d come to calling the group that met regularly outside Edda’s Tea Shop, and looked for the stranger. She spotted his vehicle and noted the rental tags. Not a local, then.
Shit.
Hurrying to the most probable place he’d gone, she entered the pub and overheard him say, “So how long has Heather been here?” Heather. Damn. He knew her name.
She rushed to his side and put on the brightest smile she could. “I can’t believe you’re here! Sorry, but the light was behind you outside, and I almost didn’t recognize you.” Heather hugged him hard, dragging his head closer so she could whisper, “My name is Heather
Wurtz
. Hug me back, damn it.”
He didn’t falter and swept her into a bone-crushing hug. He nuzzled her cheek, sending shivers down her spine, and whispered back, “Jack Harmon. Strawman sent me.”
Owen had sent this man.
Strawman
was the code word Owen used to prove association. Whoever else this guy might be, her brother trusted him to come after her.
When they finished embracing, Jack kept a muscled arm around her. Up close, he set her libido on high alert. But that wasn’t all. Her ability to heal sensed deep wounds in this man, and she had the crazy notion to plaster herself to him and inhale him, one kiss at a time, until he recovered from past trauma and she reached orgasm.
So
unlike her. Sex and healing had never been joined together, in any way.
She squirmed, and he tightened his grip on her shoulder. He had killer eyes, light gray one moment and then a hint of blue the next. But that fierce expression, coupled with his incredible size and breadth of muscle, warned her to tread carefully. For all that the guy had a rough kind of handsome sexiness going on, he also had a serial-killer vibe she’d need to keep an eye on.
Hans at the bar stared at him with suspicion. “You aren’t part of the ski group, are you? How did you get here?”
“Ski group?” She and Jack asked at the same time.
Heather talked over him. “Hans, I’ve been here for
two weeks
and haven’t seen anyone but the locals.”
“Of course not, sweetheart.” Hans grinned. “We keep family tight, right here.” He patted his chest. “The stupid Americans and the idiot locals are kept outside the yellow gate, the one by Jan’s cottage.” Hans blinked at Jack. “Jan…
Of course
. Forgive me. Jan said you’d be coming.”
“He did?” Jack’s deep voice soothed her, despite the tenor that sounded more like the growl of a hungry beast.
“Yes. We’ve been more than curious about Heather’s boyfriend.”
Oh boy, that was all she needed. An imaginary lover. Heather said in a rush, “I need to take him to see Aunt Ida. I know she can’t wait to see him again, and she told me to let her know as soon as he arrived. We’ll be back later, though.”
Hans nodded. When Jack tried to pay him for the beer, Hans shook his head. “No, not for Heather’s man. You go and settle in.” Jack stuck out his hand, and Hans shook it, grunting. “Firm, strong shake. It’s good you came to Drei-Gewalten. We need to build our stock and let it grow.”
Stock? “Drei-Gewalten. Great name for a town, huh?” she said to get Jack up to speed.
He didn’t bat an eye and nodded. “Great name. Let’s go see Aunt Ida, honey.”
She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they left the pub and headed down the street, away from the tea shop.
“Yeah, we can catch up at Aunt Ida’s, for sure.” She squeezed his hand in hers. He squeezed back, and it didn’t escape her notice that his palm completely covered hers. When she tried to discreetly tug her hand away, he wouldn’t let go.
“That we will, sweetheart. I can’t wait.”
Jack had no idea what he’d stumbled onto, but he knew when to play the game and bide his time. That Heather felt the need to lie warned him to be wary, even if the odd surges of power running through his body hadn’t already made him cautious. He let her drag him some distance down the street and into a cobblestone alley before he pulled her into an empty alcove.
He backed her against a wooden door under a shadowed archway. No one had entered the alleyway after them, and he couldn’t sense anyone near, so he took advantage of their sudden privacy. In a low growl, he ordered, “Give me the quick version.
Now
.”
She tried to move away, but there was nowhere for her to go. When she brushed against his chest, ineffectively attempting to push back, his entire body throbbed like one big ball of need. He saw an answering flare of desire in her eyes, both unnerving and satisfying that the unwanted attraction didn’t seem to be all on his end.
Flattening herself against the door, she frowned and in a throaty whisper answered, “This isn’t the place. Owen really sent you?”
He nodded. “He’s worried and wants you back like yesterday.”
She blew out a breath. “Terrific. Look, we need to be somewhere private before I can tell you what you need to know.” She lowered her voice to the merest whisper. “It’s not safe out here.”
“I don’t think you want to be anywhere private with me right now.” He moved closer so that she couldn’t mistake his erection pressed against her hips.
Her eyes widened. “Y-you…”
“Yeah. This whole fucking town is like a cauldron of energy. I’m on fire from head to toe.” Let her believe the swirling energy was to blame for his perpetual hard-on and not that he’d been fascinated by her since he’d first seen her picture. He stepped back, giving her a little space.
“Right.”
She let out a soft breath, and the scent of minty chocolate washed over him.
“Quick version—the town is sitting on what they call the Source. It’s a well of power you can feel. Everyone with psychic sensitivity senses it, which in this case is nearly all of Drei-Gewalten. Oh, and they hate Stallbridges, so anyone having anything to do with my family is likely to be imprisoned or killed on sight.”
“
What
?” Even for a PowerUp! case, this was weird.
“That’s the quick version.” She latched on to his sweater and jerked him so that she practically kissed his ear before she added in a whisper, “I can’t talk about this out here, not without someone possibly overhearing. We’ll be safer at Ida’s.” Heather pulled back, and the searching look she gave him told him she didn’t put him in the same trust category as Ida. Not that he blamed her.