Treasure Tides - By Deniece Greene Page 0,19

“And why, pray tell,” she paused, suddenly grabbing the hem of his shirt to jerk it upward, exposing his left pectoral muscle, “do you have the same crest hidden in your tattoo that I’ve seen hidden in Kurt’s?”

She jerked the hem of the shirt back down, put both hands on her hips and concluded the inquisition by demanding, “Why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me what is really going on Royce?”

Royce watched as Becki stared at him expectantly. She had drilled him like a prosecuting attorney with an open-and-shut case. So, she wanted to know what was “really” going on. Sure, it was easy to explain. He was in charge of a recovery team, who worked for a mostly immortal secret council, whose current mission was to track down some missing coins spelled by Merlin centuries ago. His team had traced one of the coins to Charleston where he had indeed recovered said coin; unfortunately, his efforts had been sabotaged by a band of Witches before he could turn the magic coin over to the Secret Council of Elders. The past two years of his life had been spent locked inside a crate at the bottom of the ocean. The same crate she had found, picked up, and brought home; the same crate that had literally disappeared after magically unlocking a few short hours ago. Sure, that was believable, and easy to explain.

Clearing his throat, Royce said “Look, Becki, I wish I could, really, but I can’t. Some-things, you are better off not knowing. This is one of them.”

“Right.”

Royce reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and could not resist cupping her jaw in his hand to gently tilt her face toward his. “I appreciate your help in more ways than you know, but I can’t give you the answers you are looking for. I wish I could, but it’s just not possible,” he finished with a sigh letting his hand drop down to his side. “I need to be going. My things should be close to dry by now.”

She was the cutest thing with her brow wrinkled in confusion, but seeing disappointment flash in her eyes was almost physically painful. He had to get the hell out-- while he still could. The desire to scoop her up in his arms, head for the bedroom, and do all the things he hadn’t been able to do for the past two years was almost too much to resist. A man could get lost in her chocolate eyes.

“It was very nice to meet you Becki Stephens, and I do thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you’ve done for me. You have a couple of real heroes watching out for you. Don’t give them too much of a hard time.” He reached out to trace a finger over the frown lines marring her forehead, “Thanks for the shower, and coffee, and…thanks for everything.” Royce bent to kiss her softly on the forehead and then turned and moved away.

As she watched him walk through the doorway into her house, she mumbled, “Are you effing kidding me?” She stood where he had left her; outside on the deck, rooted to the spot by feelings of shock and betrayal. She couldn’t believe he would casually stroll away with no explanation, not even a meet-me-sometime-for-a-drink, nothing, nada.

Anger rose quickly and propelled her through the doorway, “Really? That’s it?” she yelled slamming the door once again. If the glass survived the remainder of this day, it would be a miracle.

Becki felt the sting of tears, but she would not let him see her cry. Evidently mind-numbing kisses could be one-sided, because it clearly meant nothing to him. He was going to kiss her on the forehead this time, like some child, and simply walk away without a backward glance. Well, that was fine, just fine! She had plenty of offers. Unfortunately none of them compared to the oh-so-perfect male specimen now pulling his clothes out of her dryer.

Royce closed his eyes as he heard tears in Becki’s voice. It almost killed him to know he had hurt her. His heart ached with the knowledge that he had to walk away from her, and walk he would. His life was dangerous. The Council had obviously not given him the full story concerning the coins, and who or what might be launching recovery efforts. He couldn’t, wouldn’t involve her.

He walked back into the kitchen. God, if she had thought he

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