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“If we must, Indy.” Crestfallen, he slammed his boots onto the coffee table alongside her bare feet. “The Grim Lord,” he smirked, “that’s Cerberus, called me into his office at the garrison. He said he was sending me to find this weapon. When I had it, I was to bring it to him.”
“Why do you think he chose you for the mission?” She switched the pencil to the other hand, picking up her wine to take a sip.
“Because I’m the smartest raisin in his bakery of fruitcakes?”
Indigo snapped her body toward him. “I’m serious.”
“Understood.” Roark gripped his beer with an index finger curled around its neck. “I’m gonna guess it’s part confidence and part test.”
“A test of what?”
“My loyalty.”
She snorted. “Are you loyal?”
“Irrelevant to our search. Currently, I’m on your side.”
She jotted in her notebook. SHIFTY SHIFTER. “What’s the weapon look like?”
“Stab in the dark, but something about it is red, like blood. It’s long, pointy with a sharp edge, and is useful in a fight.”
“Brilliant. So, you know nothing about its appearance?”
“Nada.” Roark took another swig of beer.
“Why is it important to Cerberus, uh, Dolph?” Indigo chewed on the pencil’s eraser.
Since the warlock was a tad younger than Indigo, she hadn’t trained with him. Over the years, however, they’d met when she delivered intel from the River Am to the Temple of Justice. Face-to-face, the male made her mind’s eye twitch. Lately, what she heard about his childhood was more disturbing.
“I couldn’t say, Indy, though the fucker is very eager to find it. I bet he’s hired other hunters. In fact, I suggest we keep one eye on the prize and the other on our asses.” When he set his bottle on the coffee table, he grinned over his shoulder. “I’ll watch yours. You watch mine.”
Ignoring Roark’s comment, she continued to question him. Any clue could point her in the right direction. “Is there something you do know about the sword? Maybe where I can start the hunt?”
“Let’s assume it’s old.”
“A hundred? Two hundred?”
He scrunched his lips together. “Older. Also, we should focus our search to Earth.”
“A guess or fact?”
“Guess.”
“Who forged the weapon?”
“No clue.”
“Who owned it?”
“Still clueless.”
She set her notebook down to pick up her wine, rolling the liquid around the glass before swallowing a taste. Sighing, she leaned back on the couch to think over what Roark had told and not told her about their quest.
He looped an arm across the cushions, his fingers settling on her shoulders. He stroked her with a light touch, dipping down to the swell of her breast. He reached inside her bra, palming her, squeezing and running a thumb over her nipple until it ached. “I want you, Indy.”
She should stop him. What was happening to her strict rule of not mixing business and pleasure?
Roark angled closer, his lips feathering across hers. When she moaned, he lifted her until she straddled him, her skirt riding up her legs. Cradling her head, he pressed her closer while his tongue plunged inside her mouth. Melting into his arms, she met his thrust, sucking, licking as he explored.
