Trouble With Harry Page 12

  Soon, her vision blurred and her struggles ceased, blackness creeping around the edges of her vision. No. She couldn’t pass out. Perhaps, if she cooperated, they’d let her go.

  Her head spinning into darkness, Edie went limp.

  “That is better,” a low voice said against her ear and he loosened his hold on her nose.

  With the desperation of a dying woman, she sucked air through her nostrils into her burning lungs, replenishing her oxygen-starved brain cells.

  “Where is the Stone of Azhi?”

  All this—she stared around at the ruins of her apartment—was about that stupid stone she’d found in the sarcophagus at the museum? Her life had been turned completely upside down by the Stone of Azhi? Some days it didn’t pay to get out of bed.

  “Where is it?”

  And she was supposed to answer with a hand clamped over her mouth?

  The hand loosened enough she could move her mouth. Blood flowed into her lips. “I don’t know where the stone is.” And she didn’t. Harry had it last.

  “You will give us the stone or your boyfriend will die.”

  Harry? Edie’s gaze bounced off the corners of the room she could see around the suited arm. Harry wasn’t here. He was comparatively safe back at the library where she’d stranded him. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the door to her apartment burst open and another burly man with the dark, swarthy skin of a Middle Easterner pushed Mitch in, his hands bound behind his back, a slash of silver duct tape over his mouth. He was barefooted, his normally tailored khaki slacks were wrinkled and his polo shirt hung loose from his waistband.

  “Mitch!” Edie surged forward only to have the arm around her throat tightened and pull her snug against the goon’s, curry-scented body. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

  Mitch shook his head.

  Edie noticed a dark bruise and a lump above his right temple. He’d been hit but he was putting on a brave front for her. Her stomach ached with dread. These guys meant business and probably wouldn’t blink an eye over killing her or Mitch.

  “Now, are you going to give us the stone? Or do you want us to kill him?” The man she had as yet not seen said behind her. His arm tightened, making breathing difficult.

  “I told you, I don’t know where it is.” With as deep a breath as she could muster beneath the iron clamp over her neck, she prepared to launch her wish for Harry to return and save the day.

  But, before she could get a word out, the man’s hand clamped over her mouth again. “Well, you better find it, and quick. If you don’t bring the stone to the alley behind the museum at 11:00 p.m. tonight, without the police, your friend dies.”

  Oh no, not Mitch. She shook her head violently beneath the man’s clutch. Please don’t take Mitch.

  “We’re going to leave now. If you scream, he dies. If you call the police, he dies. If you don’t show up with the Stone of Azhi, precisely at 11:00 p.m., he dies.” The man squeezed tighter around her throat. Again, the foggy edges crept around her vision and she thought she would really pass out this time.

  Just as her knees wavered and started to buckle, her tormenter released her and disappeared with his partner and Mitch through her apartment door.

  Edie slipped to the floor, her legs giving up the struggle to hold her up. She tilted her face upward, fear twisting in her gut and tears trickling down her cheeks.

  They’d taken Mitch and they might kill him.

  Pushing to her feet, she raced to the door and peered down the deserted hallway. What could she do? Who could she call, if she couldn’t call the police?

  Then she remembered her ability to wish. Quick, before they could hurt her friend, Edie closed her eyes. “I wish Mitch were here and safe.”

  She listened.

  No thunder. The floor remained steady beneath her feet. What was wrong? Every other time she’d made similar wishes they’d come true?

  The stone and the bottle. Maybe they had something to do with the magic. Where had Harry hidden the stone and the bottle?

  Edie spun in circles wondering where to start looking. If the bad guys had torn her apartment to pieces and hadn’t found the stone, how was she supposed to find it? Harry must have hidden it good. She had no other choice but to bring Harry here to help. But only because he might know where the stone was, otherwise she could have handled this kidnapping herself.

  Right? Wrong. She hated to admit it, but she’d feel a whole lot better if Harry was around.

  “Harry, much as you torment me, I wish you were here with me now.”

  Chapter Ten

  The ensuing rumble of thunder ignited her nerves and she scanned the room, barely able to breathe.

  When Harry appeared before her, he was crouched in a defensive stance. He swung at her, catching her on the chin. Edie jerked backward stumbling over the upside-down coffee table to land on her backside, all air forced from her lungs.

  “Edie!” Harry knelt beside her and gathered her in his arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought you were one of the guards.”

  Edie smiled up at him. “I guess I deserved that for leaving you behind.” She rubbed her chin, flexing her jaw back and forth. “Did you really call me sweetheart?”

  “Of course I did. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she lied past the ache in her jaw. She’d have a bruise for sure, later.

  As he helped her to her feet, he looked around. “What happened here? Do a little redecorating?”

  Still rubbing her jaw, Edie’s lips trembled and huge tears welled in her eyes, spelling out the corners to trail down her face. “Oh, Harry. This whole situation is a mess. The stone, the curse. What are we going to do?”

  “What do you mean? I can help you clean up the apartment. These are only things.” He gathered her into his arms and wiped the tears from her face with the edge of her silky robe. “I’m here now. Everything will be all right.”

  “No it won’t,” she sobbed and sagged against his naked chest.

  “What more could be wrong, darling?”

  His hand slid up and down her back, soothing, comforting and incredibly sexy. “They took Mitch.” Edie’s voice caught on a sob and more tears fell, wetting the curly, stiff hairs tickling her cheek.

  Harry’s hand stilled in the small of her back, his grip flexing until she was pressed firmly against him from hip to shoulder. “They want the stone, don’t they?”

  With her hands flat against the wall of his muscles, she pushed back and stared up into Harry’s face. “Oh God, Harry, they’ll kill Mitch if they don’t get it. What are we going to do?”

  “Can’t you wish him back here?” Harry’s hands covered hers, warm and reassuring.

  “I tried.” Edie shook her head. “Nothing happened.”

  “Try again, with me here.”

  With a deep breath, Edie closed her eyes. “I wish Mitch were here with us.” Once the wish was made, she opened her eyes and stared around the room.

  Harry tilted his head as if listening. “No thunder.”

  “And the room isn’t shaking.” Edie chewed on her bottom lip. “It didn’t work.”

  “Now is not a good time for the magic not to work.” Harry found what was left of the clothing Mitch had brought over and slipped into a pair of sweats.

  A startling twinge of disappointment tweaked at Edie. She liked it when Harry was naked, and the more he was naked, the more comfortable she was with all those exposed muscles and… Well, comfortable might not be the exact word. Openmouthed drooling closer fit the description. Completely horny and turned on probably summed up how she felt around a nude Harry. Even now, with Mitch’s life on the line, she was unable to turn away from the tempting view of the smooth curve of Harry’s buttocks as he bent to place first one then the other foot into the legs.

  “We know so little about the magic’s limits or power,” she said to break the silence and her concentration on his fine fanny.

  “What can we attribute to it
so far?” Harry slipped a T-shirt over his head pulling it down over his flat stomach, covering all that distracting tanned skin. Get a firm grip, Edie, she admonished herself. A man’s life is at stake. “I seem to be able to wish myself to and from different places.”

  He planted his fists on his hips, his feet spread wide. Even in sweats and a T-shirt, with his hair curling wildly about his forehead, he looked like a dark god, ready to wreak havoc on mortal females. “And you’re able to wish for me to go places and do some things,” he said.

  Like make mad, passionate love to her? She nodded, temporarily mute with her mouth going bone dry. A vision of bright lights and red satin sheets imposed itself on her mind. She forced herself to push the memory to the back of her thoughts. Not an easy task. “Is it limited to the two of us?”

  “I’d say so. Try someone else?”

  Not that she wanted him here at this time, but Edie said, “I wish my father was here.”

  No thunder, no earthquake-like floor shaking. Edie’s gaze met Harry’s and they both shook their heads.

  “When are we supposed to meet up with the kidnappers?” Harry asked.

  “Not until eleven o’clock tonight.” A long time, and no telling what they were doing to Mitch. She hoped he was all right. He was in this situation because of her.

  “And what time is it now?”

  “Almost noon.” Edie clapped a hand to her forehead. “The professor! We’re supposed to meet him at noon in his office. Maybe he’ll have some information we can use to figure out the situation.”

  Edie picked her way back through the mess into her room and snatched clothing from the floor of her closet. She tossed her robe onto the bed and dug in her drawer for underwear, cringing that someone else had had his filthy hands on her intimate apparel. When she got back, she’d have to wash everything.

  “You want me to close the door? Or do you always dress in front of gentlemen you’ve only known a day?”

  In the process of sliding a pair of black, lacy panties up her thighs, Edie froze, her attention shifting to the man filling her mind and the only exit from her small bedroom.

  Harry leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, his bare feet crossed at the ankles. He’d raked his hair back from his forehead, but it hung in waves down to his shoulders, giving him a rakish air, like one of the models on the cover of a historical romance novel.

  Awareness swelled low in Edie’s belly. But the professor had news for them, and she still wasn’t totally over her being mad at Harry. Close, but not totally. She couldn’t deny her desire for the man, but she didn’t want him to feel obligated toward her. Nor could she blame him for shying away from commitment, after traversing almost a century in time. And getting popped in and out of the present and the past, he didn’t have any sense of normalcy to offer a woman.

  Come to think of it, what exactly did she, Edie Ragsdale, want? Over the past twenty-four hours her life had changed and despite the dangers and craziness, she didn’t want to go back to the way it had been before Harry smoked out of the bottle.

  Okay, so she’d cut him some slack. But not much. And while she was at it, she could dish out a little of the torment he’d treated her to while dressing in front of her. “I don’t mind you watching. You’re not going to stick around anyway. Why should I care?” With slow deliberation, she slid the panties the rest of the way up her legs. Her hands continued upward to cup her naked breasts, tweaking the nipples. If she’d been told a day ago she would be standing in front of a stranger, trying to entice him by playing with herself, she’d have laughed herself into a heart attack.

  She wasn’t laughing now. But she was getting a rise out of her intended target.

  From beneath her lashes, Edie could see the tent Harry was making out of the stretchy fabric of his sweats.

  He stood straight, his eyebrows furrowing low on his forehead.

  Edie grinned, tossed a sweater over her head and pulled it in place over her braless chest. She never went braless. A little more endowed than many woman, going without restraint was entirely too conspicuous and Edie had made a life out of being invisible. What was coming over her? Had she lost all sense of propriety that she’d consider going out in public unleashed? Hell, she’d been naked on the film set of a porn movie and also in New York City’s Public library, why not? And why should she worry about dressing in appropriate clothing? A man’s life was in danger. Her state of undress was low on the totem pole of importance. Edie sighed, as much as she wanted to tease Harry, Mitch’s life could depend on what the professor had to say.

  She pulled on a pair of corduroy slacks and shoved her feet into tennis shoes. “Come on.” Brushing by Harry, she inhaled his musky scent and almost had second thoughts. The man tempted her. When she reached the middle of the living room, she planted her hands on her hips and stared around at the mess, without seeing the amount of work it would take to clean up. “Where’s the stone?”

  Still leaning in the doorway to her bedroom, Harry’s gaze had followed her the short distance through her apartment. “Hidden in Mitch’s apartment. Do you have access to his place?”

  “Yeah.” Edie strode across the littered floor to the kitchen, opened the freezer and retrieved Mitch’s key from beneath a package of frozen chicken.

  Harry grinned.

  Before Edie made it back across the room, the phone rang. With everything turned upside down, it took her and Harry several rings to locate the handset.

  “Hello,” Edie said.

  “Miss Ragsdale?” The voice was familiar, although thin and raspy as if the man was gasping for air.

  “Professor Johansson?” A chill prickled along the fine nerves over her spine.

  “Don’t come,” a gurgling cough erupted over the line. “She already came by.”

  “Who came by? Professor Johansson, are you all right? I’m calling 911.”

  “Too late.” Another racking cough.

  Oh shit! Oh shit! Dread filled her belly, threatening to consume her in a huge panic attack. “No, it can’t be.” The nice old man couldn’t be dying. He was her friend. One of the only friends she had in this huge city filled with people.

  “Need to know about the stone.” The professor hacked into the phone. Each cough grew weaker and filled with a burbling sound.

  Tears welled in Edie’s eyes. Professor Johansson had been her mentor for all the years she’d known him. He was a smart, gentle man who wouldn’t hurt a soul. And Edie knew without seeing him, he was slipping away. “Let me get help for you,” she begged.

  “The stone.”

  “To hell with the stone.” How could he think about the stone when he needed a doctor? Wanting to hang up and dial 911, Edie held on, afraid to let the professor go. Afraid he wasn’t going to make it anyway.

  “No…must protect it from her.”

  “Her?” Edie couldn’t make any sense out of the professor’s words. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Can’t break…curse until you have all …pieces back together.”

  “What pieces?”

  The wheezing grew weaker. “Bottles and stone must be returned to Vashti before spirit can rest. Don’t let Danorah get the stone. Too dangerous…in wrong hands.”

  “Who the hell is Danorah?” Edie asked. “Professor Johansson?”

  No answer.

  Edie’s heart lurched in her chest and banged against her rib cage. “Professor?”

  At first she thought he’d hung up, but she could hear the fading sound of his breathing until even that fell silent.

  She hung up and dialed 911. “My friend needs help.”

  “May I ask who is speaking?” the dispatcher asked.

  “Edie Ragsdale. But it’s Professor Johansson who needs help.”

  “And where are you calling from?”

  “He’s not where I am, I think he’s at the university and he needs help, now.”

  “Where are you calling from, ma’am?”

  “Oh, never
mind.” She hung up and called Professor Johansson’s secretary. “Mrs. Gladson, please send someone to check on Professor Johansson. I think something terrible has happened to him. Please hurry.”

  When she hit the off button, Edie walked straight into Harry’s arms. “I think he’s dead. Whoever has Mitch probably killed the professor. Just like they killed Carlos. What are we going to do?”

  Harry held her close to him for a few moments, smoothing his hand over her hair and down her back. Then he bent and scooped her up in his arms. “Until it gets darker, we can’t do much. We need to take some time and think about it.”

  “I don’t even have a chair to sit on!” Edie wailed, snuggling into Harry’s shoulder, her arms looping around his neck. In his embrace she felt protected, warm and safe.

  He strode through the tiny apartment to her bedroom and sat down on her bed with her still in his arms. “We’ll find Mitch and everything will be all right.” For a few more moments, he rocked her holding her like a baby. Then he set her on the bed beside him. “Stay here and relax. I’m going over to Mitch’s to get the stone and the bottle.”

  When Harry tried to stand, Edie grabbed his wrist. “I want to go with you.” She didn’t want him out of her sight. People she knew were dying all around her. She didn’t want Harry to be one of them.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

  “Promise?”

  He kissed the end of her nose and nodded. “Promise.”

  While waiting for Harry to return, Edie finished off the remainder of her fingernails and wore a spot in the carpet beside her bed. And that was only after the first minute!

  As soon as she heard the doorknob jiggle, she flew through the bedroom, leapt across the disaster she once called her living room and barreled into Harry’s arms. Subtle? Maybe not. Did she care? No a single iota. Harry, with his too-long hair and brown-black eyes, was back.