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Before Indy could answer, Roark jumped in. “The why is unimportant.”
“The why is never unimportant, but I will leave you with your secrets.” She smoothed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Ancients often named their weapons. Thor called his hammer Mjolnir. The Destroyer. Charlemagne’s sword was Joyeuse. King Arthur had the legendary Excalibur. Of course, the tradition continued into modern times. I believe Daniel Boone called his rifle the Tick-Licker. Even three atomic bombs in the Manhattan Project had monikers—Fat Man, Thin Man, and Little Boy.”
She rubbed her temples. “Sorry. I get carried away. I have not heard of this Blood’s Kiss, but I can check my online records. I have cross-referenced every ancient weapon we have or know of. Perhaps what you seek is the name of a less-than-famous blade. Who wielded your sword?”
After Indy sipped her tea, she added another teaspoon of sugar. “He doesn’t know. Basically, we’re looking for a weapon the shifter knows nothing about. Not its maker, its owner, or its design. We only know it has a cool name.”
“Don’t bother to look before 340 BC.” Roark fingered the rim of his cup.
Two pairs of eyes flipped to him. Indy asked, “If you don’t know anything about it, how can you pull a date out of your ass?”
“Just a guess. I’m feeling lucky.” Roark cocked his head to the side.
“If you’re keeping secrets from me, I’m gonna be pissed. A pissed Indigo is a vindictive Indigo. Get me?”
“I have no helpful info. I promise.” Roark raised his brows in what he hoped was a sincere expression. His response wasn’t a lie. Not really.
The corner of Indigo’s mouth ticked up. “Hmm.”
“Speaking for myself, I love a mysterious project.” Alarik’s petite but curvy succubus researcher jutted out her lush breasts. “The lack of information, however, will make my job difficult.”
“Difficult or impossible?” Indy’s eyes narrowed.
“Nothing is ever impossible.” Lynretta stiffened her spine, obviously insulted. “I am the best ancient weapons historian on Scath. Probably on Earth also.”
“That’s why we came to you.” No harm stroking her ego, Roark thought. “What’s next?”
“As I said, I’ll check my records to see if Blood’s Kiss is listed. Because I’ve never heard of it, it can’t be too famous. If I don’t find it there, I have other resources. Most promising, I think, will be to consider why it’s called Blood’s Kiss. I’ll also give a jingle to fellow historians. See what they know.”
“What kind of wait time are we talking about?” Roark pushed his teacup away, not even pretending to drink it.
“However would I know? Give me your number so I can call when I have something.” Her palm stroked Roark’s arm. Up. Down. Squeeze.
Indy responded. With a quiet snarl, she dug into a pocket to retrieve a business card. “No need to bother him. He’s the client. My contact info is on there.”
Was Indy jealous? If she was, he liked it. Her violet eyes reflected a treacherous sparkle. So, naturally, Roark poured lighter fluid on the flame. He patted the succubus’s hand.
Lynretta seemed a bit thwarted at having Indy as her contact, her lashes fluttering in his direction. “Then shoo so I may start my search.” Snatching up her gloves and the business card, she swept out of the office toward an attached glass room where hundreds upon thousands of books were shelved in an obviously controlled environment. Before closing the door, she called at them over her shoulder. “I’ll buzz when I have something.”
“Now what?” Roark shoved his chair aside to stand.
“We wait. Reminder. I charge by the hour.”
He winked. “You and hookers. Don’t worry. I’ll leave the money on the dresser.”
“I’ll invoice you,” she snapped.
“Speaking of sex.”
“We weren’t.”
“But if we were?” Roark fisted Indy’s elbow, pulling her to his chest. He brushed stray wisps of hair off her perfect cheek. “Why not relax and enjoy? This doesn’t have to be anything more than what it seems.”
She rested her palms on his shirt, her touch light but red hot. “You’re my client. I stick to my rules. No fraternization. We’ve been over this.”
Rejected again, he grabbed her hand to drag her toward the elevator. “Too bad because I have some ideas for how to spend our time while we wait for the succubus to call. All of them involve us being naked. Lots of licking. Sucking. Grunting.”
His thoughts zeroed in on fucking Indy. He acknowledged his lustful nature, but it never interfered with a job. Each time he determined to keep his distance, he weakened. She was a magnet to his North Pole. Though he should never have hired her to search for Blood’s Kiss, he had. Though he never should flirt with her, he did. Though he never should crave her, he did. Though he should fire her, he wouldn’t.
