Alastair stroked Darcy’s silky hair. “Wake up, baby. Please.”

They’d been locked in a fucking janitor’s closet. It was a small space that smelled like bleach and other chemicals. He couldn’t see a thing, since the only light was the faint line coming from under the locked door.

He held Darcy’s lax body in his lap. She hadn’t regained consciousness and his gut was a mass of knots. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her chest rising and falling. He kept stroking her hair.

She’ll be fine. She has to be. He felt the lump at the back of her head. It was swollen, but not bleeding.

The Silk Road men had taken his phone, earpiece, and weapon. They’d also taken Darcy’s tablet.

Now he was trapped here, helpless. Ugly memories stirred. From another time, when he’d been locked in a closet. Another time that a woman he cared about had been hurt. His lungs constricted, his breathing harsh.

He tried to slow his breaths. In, out. In, out. He stroked Darcy’s smooth cheek, and that small touch helped his chest loosen. He cared about smart, sassy Darcy Ward. A lot.

Alastair hadn’t let himself care about anyone, not in a deep way, for a long time. Hell, ever.

Right now, all he wanted was for her to wake up. The ugliness he always kept at bay—the anger, the fear, the pain—welled inside him. He tried to push it down, but it loved the darkness. It always tried to push through in the middle of the night, in a tense situation, when he was alone.

Outside the door, he heard sporadic gunfire, and screaming. Cursing, he tightened his hold on Darcy. “Please wake up, baby.” Don’t leave me here in the dark.

He felt her stir in his arms.

His pulse leaped. “Darcy?”

She made a small sound, her hands gripping his forearm. “Oh my God, I can’t see.”

“We’re locked in a closet. No lights.”

“Fucking Silk Road,” she muttered. “Are you okay?”

He touched her cheek. “You’re the one that got a blow to the head, so that’s my line.”

“Last thing I remember is you with a strange gun to your head.”

“I’m fine.” He had a bruise forming where one guy had hit him, and a few other aches under his shirt, but nothing too bad. His tuxedo was ripped, and he was sure that Thom would be pissed. Alastair swallowed, his gut and chest still tight. “They’re using plastic 3D printed weapons.”

“Ah, explains how they got them through security. I thought even the best plastic weapons still had a few metal components?”

“Guess Silk Road perfected the design.”

“Seems I’m in your lap again,” she murmured.

She moved to sit up and he helped her. When she tried to move away, he tightened his arm, keeping her nestled in his lap. He needed to keep a hold on her to know she was okay, to keep those fucking old memories from slamming into him.

“I like you here.”

He felt her go still. God, he wished he could see her face. His breathing turned harsh again. He’d come close to losing her. Again.

“Alastair? Are you sure you’re okay?”

He couldn’t get the words past the lump in his throat. Instead, he held her tighter and buried his face in her hair.

“You’re so tense.” She turned, her hands sliding across his shoulders. “Breathe, honey. We’re okay.”

“This is a pretty bad situation.” His voice harsh. “I never wanted people put at risk like this.”

She touched his cheek, like her fingers were memorizing his face in the dark. “But that’s not it, is it?”

He wondered how she could read him so neatly when she couldn’t even see him. He let out a shuddering breath. “You know my mother died.”

“Yes.”

“Silk Road killed her.”

“What?” Darcy whispered.

“They attacked us in our apartment. They locked me in a closet. I saw through a crack as three men questioned her. Tortured her. Then they shot her in the head.”

“Oh, Alastair.” Darcy wrapped her arms around him.

“She’d picked up a vase at a flea market. Paid three bucks for it. She was always doing stuff like that. Combing through other people’s junk and things they’d tossed away, trying to find a pretty bargain. We were poor, but she tried to make our apartment pretty.” Another shuddering breath. “She thought the vase was pretty. Turned out it was actually a Ming Dynasty vase, worth millions.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Darcy pulled his face to her chest.

He breathed her in, and for the first time since he’d lost his mother, he leaned in and took comfort from someone else.

They stayed there for a moment, then more gunfire sounded. This time much closer.

Alastair fought off the old emotions. He had to get Darcy to safety. His mind cleared. “We need to get out of here.”

“I assume you tried the door?” Darcy asked.

“Locked. With the power down, the electronic locking system is offline.” All the museum doors needed keycards or fingerprints to open them. “And they took my phone and your tablet.”

She made a small sound. “Lucky I always carry a backup, then.”

Alastair froze. “In that dress?”

“I’m hiding a few things under here.”

The sultry tone made his cock rock hard and he swallowed a groan. He couldn’t believe he was getting turned on in a situation like this. Still, this was Darcy they were talking about.

She shifted in his lap, and he heard the slide of silky fabric. He realized she was pushing the hem of her dress up.

“Darcy—”

“Stay focused, Alastair.”

“You’re killing me.”

“We have bad guys out there and people who need our help.”

He moved his hand and encountered smooth skin. He gripped her knee. She was reaching for something near her inner thigh. His cock throbbed and he bit back a groan. Unable to stop himself, he stroked the back of her knee.

Air puffed from her lips. “Hey, focus, remember? Gosh, no wonder you haven’t caught Silk Road, yet. You’re easily distracted.”

“Only by you.”

She stilled. “Don’t be sweet when we’re in a bad situation and I can’t see you.” She held something up and a light flicked on. He saw she was holding some sort of slim device. He realized it was a mini-tablet the size of a credit card. He watched her expand the device and tap on the screen.

“Okay, I’m sending a message to Dec,” she said. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Janitor’s closet near the information desk.”

She tapped again. “Done.”

“Where the hell were you hiding that? How were you hiding it under that dress?”

In the faint light, he saw her saucy wink. “One of my many secrets, Agent Burke.”

Alastair suddenly wanted to know all her secrets. He wanted to know everything about this woman—her dreams, her wants, what made her laugh, what made her sigh.

“Now, how about we get out of here?” She stood, her dress swishing back down to her ankles. She moved over to the electronic door lock panel, plugged her tablet in, and set to work.

“You can get the locks back online?” He rose.

She didn’t look up. “Probably not all of them from here, but I should be able to hack this one.”

When he’d first seen Darcy tonight, he’d been knocked senseless by her beauty.

But seeing her like this, eyes alight with concentration and that fierce intelligence, it turned him on just as much.

“Got it!” She looked up and smiled.

There was a click and the door opened.

Alastair grabbed her and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, he was pleased to see she looked dazed. “Stay behind me.”

“Sure thing,” she said.

He paused. “You’re not lying, are you?”

Her pretty features smoothed out. “Who me? Of course not.”

He shook his head. “Liar.”

“You’re such a smooth-talker, Agent Burke.”

They cautiously moved back into the lobby and chaos. It was still dark, and smoke from the grenades hung in the air. There were pockets of fighting, and he knew his agents and THS were working to contain the situation.

He felt Darcy’s fingers slip into the belt loops on his pants. They moved forward. He needed to find Thom and his agents.

Suddenly, Darcy jerked on his waist. “Alastair.” Her tone was urgent.

“What?”

She reached around him and tilted her mini-tablet so he could see.

What he saw made his body lock. The three glowing dots were moving.

“The diamonds,” she hissed.

Fuck. “Come on.”

* * *

Darcy followed Alastair as he pushed through the crowd. All around, guests were crouched and hiding. Some were silent and others were sobbing.

Well, this gala was going to be front page news.

More gunfire came from somewhere and she ducked. Alastair gripped her arm. God, Darcy hoped all the guests were okay. They’d known Silk Road would make a play for the diamonds, but not like this.

She looked back at her mini-tablet and saw the diamonds moving upstairs. “Diamonds are heading up to the mezzanine.”

Alastair swiveled. In the faint emergency lighting, she saw the shadow of a big man jogging up the stairs.

Then Alastair sprinted forward. He took the stairs two at a time.

Dammit. Darcy hurried to follow after him. She just made out Cal and Logan in the shadows, fighting with some Silk Road men.

She knew the rest of the THS team would be spread throughout the room, fighting to bring Silk Road under control. She sent a silent prayer that they were all okay.

She was halfway up the stairs, when she saw Alastair reach the top. He tackled the man with the diamonds and she lost sight of them.

Lifting her skirt, she moved faster, and made it to the mezzanine. Ahead, Alastair and the man were circling each other. They charged, fists flying.

The blows were hard and powerful. A glancing hit caught Alastair on the chin and she winced. He dodged another punch, then rammed one into the Silk Road man’s gut. The man doubled over, and Alastair kicked him.

Then she saw the glint of something in the man’s hand. Her pulse went haywire.

“Alastair! He has a knife.”

The man slashed out. Alastair leaped back, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. There was enough light for her to see the huge tear across Alastair’s shirt.

God, no. Darcy grabbed a nearby chair and charged.

“What the fuck?” The man turned, just as she rammed the chair into him.

“Darcy, back,” Alastair bit out.

Momentum carried her forward. She ran the Silk Road man into the mezzanine railing.

He grunted, then gripped the chair and tore it away from her. He tossed it and it hit Alastair, who staggered back.

Darcy kept her gaze on the man. He was little more than a shadow. She saw the flash of the small metal case bulging in the inside pocket of his jacket. The diamonds.

She darted forward and grabbed the case.

A hard hand clamped onto her wrist and she grimaced. She could almost feel the delicate bones grinding together.

The man shoved hard and they lurched. She tried to pull the case closer, but he pulled back, pain flaring in her wrist.

“You’re not stealing these,” she snapped.

“I already have.” He had a deep Southern twang.

He shoved harder, and they twirled like dancers. Her hip hit the railing. Hard.

“Where’s the Collector?” she said.

“Waiting for me to deliver these.”

She refused to let go of the case and they spun in another unwieldy circle. Annoyed, Darcy shoved the man and he leaped up onto a chair, towering over her.

“Darcy.” Alastair rushed forward, grabbed a fistful of her dress, and yanked her back. Her fingers slipped off the case.

When she lifted her head, she watched the Silk Road man lift a gun. He pointed it straight at Alastair.

Her chest locked.

The man fired.

“No!” Darcy screamed. She watched as Alastair staggered back and fell to the floor.

Anger exploded through her and her vision turned red. Silk Road had already taken too many lives. They’d already taken Alastair’s mother, they weren’t taking him as well.

Without thinking, she shoved the Silk Road man in the gut with all her weight behind her.

He tipped backward and hit the railing.

Then he stared straight at Darcy, his face going lax. “Need to jump. We need to jump.”

Her pulse leaped. “What?” His voice had lost its accent and sounded monotone.

He let himself fall back over the railing.

Oh, crap. Darcy leaned out, reaching for the case of diamonds.

The man grabbed a handful of her dress. Shit. He yanked her over the railing with him.

Shock blasted through her.

“Darcy!” Alastair’s shout.

But then she was falling from the mezzanine. The Silk Road man let go of her and pointed his arms above his head like he was diving.

She threw her hands out. When her fingers brushed fabric, she clenched her hands closed.

It was one of the banners announcing the exhibit. She yanked on it, gripping hard. Her weight made it swing out from the side of the mezzanine.

Hell. She flew through the air and held on, sliding down the silky fabric.

The next second, her heels hit the tile floor and she bent her knees. She didn’t even fall over. She stood there, her heart hammering like an out-of-control drum.

Oh, God. She’d made it. She hadn’t smashed into a thousand pieces on the tiles.

She looked over, and her gaze fell on the Silk Road man. Her belly turned over, nausea rising in her throat. He hadn’t been so lucky.

In the emergency lighting, she could see him, lying flat on his back, his limbs bent at odd angles. She sucked in some breaths, trying not to be sick.

Then, a shadow swooped in. The newcomer leaned over the dead man and grabbed the case of diamonds from the man’s pocket. His blond hair glinted as he turned and ran.

Shit. “Hey!”