The Lost Locket Read online

  “So…” James prodded.

  “So I’ve decided to use our expertise to help those in need. We have a client—PowerUp!’s first. It’s not much, a simple retrieval you guys would have done in your sleep in the old days. There’s a lost locket, an antique family heirloom our client wants brought back here.”

  Keegan clapped his hands together and rubbed. Anything to get away from the gym, James expected. Keegan grinned. “Great. So we’re headed where?”

  “I rented you a car. You head out tomorrow. Cross-country, because we have a few leads we need you to check out on the way.”

  “Leads on…?”

  “Some other items the team will eventually need to hunt down and bring back.”

  Keegan looked ready to drop everything and go, but James didn’t trust the seeming simplicity of this task. “What haven’t you told us yet, Jack?”

  “See, that’s why you’re going with Wyatt Earp, here. One of you needs to think before he acts.”

  Keegan snarled. “Motherfu—”

  James interrupted quickly. “Jack, please. Just tell us. It’s been a long day.” Jack sighed. “You’re getting soft, Foreman. Fine. Our client is a wealthy man with some very unusual interests. His family has collected items with unique properties over the years. And we’re just the people to locate said properties.”

  “Weird shit, right?” Keegan groaned. “What I wouldn’t give for a normal bad guy these days.” James understood. “So these missing items are somehow psychical in nature?

  Is that even a word?”

  “Yes and yes.” Jack handed him a folder. “That’s the locket’s information, history, picture, etcetera. I had Nathan handle the locket’s case to get a feel for its history.” Their resident psychometrist, a man who could touch a thing and know its past, had been a real asset in the old days of the PWP. It seemed he would be useful again in this new capacity as well.

  Jack continued. “The locket is indeed the real thing. It’s old, and it’s powerful, but we’re not sure if that’s because it’s associated with certain people who handle it, or because it’s a thing of power. Anyway, your car reservation is in there, and don’t worry, Goliath,” he said to Keegan, “I booked you an SUV.”

  “Big enough to fit his fat head.” James couldn’t resist and chuckled when Keegan cursed him out. “So is there a time limit on this? How long has it been missing?”

  “About two hundred years.”

  James glanced at Keegan. “Ah, right. So we’re not in a rush?”

  “Not exactly. Our client hadn’t even known the locket was among the items stolen from him until a hundred-year-old inventory turned up in the course of the theft. That thing’s been missing from his family for years. The warehouse burglary just brought it to light.”

  “So this warehouse break-in isn’t related to the original theft of the locket.”

  “Correct.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “So while this family heirloom has been missing from his family’s treasury since the early eighteen hundreds, our client only found out about it recently, when Nathan handled the inventory and locket box. I’m giving you two three weeks to get there, grab the locket, and bring it back. Consider this an extended vacation for hard work rendered.” Which James didn’t trust at all. “Bring it back how?” “The client wants what’s his. As far as he’s concerned, whether it was stolen yesterday or two hundred years ago, it’s his. According to him, whoever has it knows it doesn’t belong to him. It’s a psychic thing. Just go with that. You see the locket, you grab it and haul ass back here.

  “The locket is on the East Coast in a small town where everyone knows everyone. You shouldn’t have a problem, but townies can be very protective of their local citizens. We’ve seen this before.”

  “Oh man, this keeps getting better and better.” Keegan groaned. “Why not hand this off to Noah or Aidan?” Noah could see past events, and Aidan was a telepath. It only made sense to let Noah try to envision who’d stolen the locket. And if the townies had secrets, Aidan could learn them easily. “Or any of the others?

  Why us?”

  Jack leaned over the desk, his gaze locked on Keegan’s. “Because I tasked you with this. You disobeying a direct order?”

  James knew Keegan was dying to argue that they no longer had to follow orders. No more government work, no more chain of command in this “goddamn gym that asshole forces us to slave away in.” But to James’s surprise, Keegan kept his mouth shut.

  “Good,” Jack said. “Then get your asses out of here. I expect the drive to take you some time, what with the other stops you need to make along the way. But the majority of your mission will be spent tracking down the locket. We know it’s in Jackson Heights, and we know you’ll be within five feet of it at 1600 the day you get into town. Other than that, you’re on your own.”

  For that kind of detail, Avery must have made an attempt at seeing the future.

  The precog was always spot-on, and James found that information already printed out in the folder.

  “Oh, and guys? The future of the gym is hanging on this. We don’t make this work, our only client may just be our last. But no pressure.” They stared at him in shock. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Jack asked.

  Keegan stood and hauled James with him.

  Rising too quickly on top of his earlier exhaustion caused the blood to rush from his head, and the next thing James knew, he was being carried, fireman-style, over Keegan’s wide shoulder.

  Whistles and catcalls followed them up the stairs and out the back door.

  “Fuck off,” Keegan said to a few of their friends’ more lurid comments. He tossed James into the front seat of his car and belted him in. “Don’t think this means we’re dating,” he muttered and drove them home.

  Neighbors they might be, but back-door friends they weren’t. Not yet, at least.

  At the thought, James grinned, because he’d been sensing an odd vibe from his good buddy lately. One he intended to put to the test. He had three weeks up close and personal to work Keegan over. And he intended to relish every minute of it.

  Chapter Two

  Rory Taylor punched Gina Jackson in the face without blinking. If the little witch thought she could scare Rory into succumbing to her dumb-ass older cousin, she’d had too many beers.

  The crowd in the bar cheered and jeered as Gina, the local bully, slumped on the nasty cement floor, unmoving.

  Rory scowled. “Jackass.”

  “Yeah. Jackass Jackson,” one of the regulars said and dumped half a cup of stale beer over Gina’s head.

  Several of the waitresses snickered. No one in this dive liked the uppity Jacksons, and Gina was low on the like-scale even among her obnoxious brothers and cousins.

  “Here you go, Rory. On the house.” Bud, the bartender, slid a cold one down the bar with the skill of a true master.

  She grabbed it, lifted it to him in salute, then took a long, slow drag from it.

  Man, she’d needed that. Summer in Jackson Heights could be excruciating, despite the surrounding mountains. The humidity lately had been a killer, and tonight the breeze refused to blow.

  She’d punched Gina with her right hand, the hand that gripped the bottle. The cold beer soothed the burn in her bones, joints, and muscles. She’d channeled a lot of furious energy through her body, letting it go through that punch. The locket at her neck burned as well, but she was used to that. It centered her.

  Her hand friggin’ hurt. “Oh, and Bud?” she said in a loud voice. The crowd quieted. “You make sure everyone knows that if anyone so much as scratches a notch on the porch of my cute little cabin, I’m coming after the Jacksons with a shotgun.”

  “Sure ‘nuff.” Bud nodded and wiped down the bar before getting another order.

  The townies seemed to like her well enough. Though she’d only been part of the local color for the past year, a single, pretty young woman living alone out in the woods hadn’t drawn as much speculation as she’d thought
. She kept a low profile while recouping from her narrow escape from Atlanta. She’d almost seen the inside of a jail cell, thanks to some piss-poor connections with less-than-honest jewel brokers.

  So now she was sticking to what she knew best. Searching out precious stones to finance her dream job. She was close. Just a few more caches and she’d have enough to start her own jewelry shop. The locket throbbed under her shirt, as if latching on to the idea of creating beautiful pieces of art with approval. Sometimes she swore the thing was more than a focus of power. It felt almost alive.

  Rory frowned at her hand. It didn’t look swollen, but it ached. Not good to damage her most valuable asset. In the old days, she might have gone hungry, unable to pick the pockets of the wealthy who’d unknowingly funded her early adolescence. Now she’d just set herself back a few days from mining. Still, it was beyond stupid to sit around waiting for the Jacksons to get word of Gina’s smackdown and pay her a visit here tonight.

  Finishing her beer with a few swallows that made the idiots sitting next to her sigh suggestively, she placed the bottle on the bar, left Bud a huge tip, and departed without another word. Her walk home was mostly uneventful. She walked next to the dirt road, careful to keep away from traffic. This neck of the woods was familiar, and she felt no fear. She never did with her trusty locket to protect her.

  She turned and shrieked when she nearly ran over Becky, the town’s oldest citizen and a woman who could brew quality moonshine with her eyes closed. Everyone loved Becky. Even the Jacksons. The old woman had taken an immediate liking to Rory—probably the real reason no one in town ever hassled her.

  “Girl, where you off to in the dead of night?” Becky bragged she’d lived one hundred and fifteen years, yet the spry woman moved like a woman decades younger. It was nothing to find her out and about at all hours. Weird, but not alarming.

  “Uh, just coming back from the bar, Becky.”

  “Oh, right. Monday night special.” Becky nodded. The old woman remained right in Rory’s way.

  “You okay, Miss Becky?” Rory felt a strange sensation, a tingle of energy that started where the locket touched her chest and surged deep, straight into her heart, then her brain.

  “You’re gonna leave us soon, Rory. I’ll miss you.”

  Rory smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. Why would I leave when I have the best cabin on the mountain?” And she meant it.

  “Well, you just remember, that locket belongs to you, no matter what they say.

  But don’t give the big feller too hard a time. He needs you. Just as much as your foreman.” The woman cackled. “Talk about sexy as sin and trouble to boot. Pair of aces for you, honey. Good luck.”

  Rory watched her go, not sure what to think. Foreman? Did Becky sense construction in her future? What the hell? “Woman must be hitting the still again,” she muttered and turned toward home once more. Rory wasn’t going anywhere until she was damn good and ready. And anyone who tried taking her locket would find himself in for a world of hurt. Just thinking about how good it had felt to give Gina a little payback for keying her car had Rory whistling under the moonlight as she continued walking. Foreman indeed.

  * * *

  “Foreman, swear to God, you change the buttons on the satellite radio again and I’ll kick your ass from here to fucking Phoenix!” Keegan shouted two days later from the driver’s side as he fiddled with the car radio. Obnoxious rave music pounded in the SUV instead of the catchy crooning of country’s best.

  James chuckled from the backseat, where the bastard was currently reading a book. Lord love him, but James had a real talent for annoying the shit out of Keegan. And though he hated to admit it, anger wasn’t the only thing the guy aroused. Lately, Keegan’s confusing feelings had turned decidedly…carnal.

  “I thought this job was about de-stressing?” said the most laid-back man in the world. “You know we won’t fail this assignment. You can’t be worried that we’ll be responsible for the gym going under.”

  “I’m not. Jack’s an ass. We’ve never not come through before. And I doubt one missing locket would lose us this client. Where the hell else is this guy going to find a group of specialized psychics as powerful as former PWP agents?”

  “Then why are you so tense all the time, cowboy? Don’t you good old boys know how to relax? Maybe you need to get laid. Or sucked off. Find a rest stop and look for a hole in one of the stalls.” He chuckled. “Man, I’d pay to see that.” Keegan gripped the steering wheel tight, refusing to take the bait. Damned if James wasn’t messing with his head. Keegan had no problems when it came to women. He loved licking them, sucking them, kissing them. Never fucked a guy and frankly didn’t want to. He’d never wanted a man that way, not really. He glanced in the rearview again at James.

  The jerk made him laugh, always had his back, and couldn’t walk away from an I-told-you-so if his life depended on it. James was way too aggravating to even think of in context of a sexual relationship—if Keegan had thought of it, which he hadn’t.

  He blew out a breath. Keegan didn’t care what others did in their own lives, but man-on-woman, or man-on- women sex, satisfied him just fine. His daddy’d be proud his boy was following in his large footsteps. “Freak.”

  “Wannabe.”

  Their conversation from a few days ago refused to leave his mind. And last night made it hard to think about anything other than how incredible James looked when naked.

  Sure, they’d worked together for a few years. Partners who knew a lot about each other, but not everything. Keegan, for one, had never seen James behind a woman, balls-deep, the way he’d been last night. That fat cock ramming up her ass while she’d cried out for more. Talk about the wrong time to come back to their hotel room early. Keegan had returned from a tame night playing pool in the hotel bar, hoping to get a good night’s rest. So much for that.

  He glared down at his cock, which started getting hard anytime he thought about what he’d seen last night. He kept trying to convince himself it had been the woman. Her large tits shaking as James pounded that full ass. Her submissive posture, bent over to take whatever her man wanted to give her.

  Instead, his mind locked on to the image of James. His head thrown back, exposing the long line of his neck. The cords of strength in his arms and chest as he clenched and thrust. His dark brown hair sticking to his forehead as he sweated and grunted while he worked her. Or maybe it was the incredibly erotic sight of James’s black-brown eyes glued to his while the fucker came and came hard. If that wasn’t bad enough, while climaxing, James had withdrawn from her ass, ripped off his condom, and continued to pump a few ropy strands of cum on the woman’s back.

  Damn, sitting was getting more than uncomfortable; it was getting painful.

  “You okay up there?” James’s stare met his in the rearview mirror. “You look tired.”

  The smirk on his face nearly had Keegan pulling over to beat on him. But he knew for a fact James couldn’t read minds. No way the man could know how confused, how off centered Keegan felt, and all because of him.

  “I’m fine.” “Yeah, right.” James sighed and leaned forward. He placed his hand on Keegan’s shoulder, and Keegan’s entire body locked up tight. “Man, you are tense. I know what this is about, and I’m sorry.”

  “Oh?”

  “I should have asked you to join me last night.”

  “What?”

  “With Linda. She gave great head, by the way. Yeah, we could have done her together. Gotten off and been so mellow. Better than any high, I’m telling you.” James sighed and leaned back against his seat again. He closed his eyes and smiled, and Keegan had the odd sensation of looking at a truly beautiful man.

  How fucked up is it that I’m thinking he’s pretty? Keegan swallowed around a dry throat.

  “Coming in her ass was a dream. Not that I dig condoms, but there’s something about a narrow passage. Yeah, I’m an ass man.” James chuckled.

  “For God’s sake, quit talking about it.
” Keegan hated that his accent sounded so thick, a sure sign he was upset.

  “It’s okay. Pull one off if you need to. I won’t watch.” Keegan was tempted to do it, if only to get some relief. But it felt too weird.

  Jacking off while driving with his buddy in the car? This wasn’t a porno, and it sure the hell wasn’t a gay porno.

  “Maybe I’ll take your advice and find a nice gal tonight.” James laughed. “Yeah, Jethro. You find yourself a pretty gal in Phoenix. Hell, make sure you wear your hat and croon to them in that gravelly voice of yours, and they’ll be creaming before you can say boo.”

  They rode in silence for a while before Keegan dared ask the question at the forefront of his mind. “James?”

  “Hmm?”

  “So last night… You were with a woman.” “Yes.”

  “But you’ve been hinting around you like guys.”

  “I do. It’s more about the person than the gender with me.”

  “So you really are bi. I thought that was a rumor started by Patten back in DC.

  He had a hard-on for you big time.” The man had lived to get James in trouble. Any way, any how.

  “Yes, sir, he surely did.”

  Keegan stared in shock at James in the rearview. “You’re telling me he balled you?”

  “Hell no.”

  Keegan breathed a sigh of relief. Their old supervisor had been such an asshole.

  “I balled him. Not a great lay, but it finally got him off my ass, literally, mind you.”

  “Holy shit. You did Patten?”

  “Well, don’t get too excited. It only happened once. The repressed asshole actually thanked me for showing him who he really was. He cried afterward, and in a weird way, I felt like I was doing a service for all gay people everywhere.” Keegan shared a grin with him.

  James continued, “I opened the door for him in a big way. I’m good like that.” Was it Keegan’s imagination, or did James sound as if he were implying something?

  “Then again, I’m not nearly as impressive as you are, cowboy.”