She swung her head to the door just as he walked through it. After a glance at his face, she leaped up. “What is it?”
“I should be frightened that you can read me so well, Sister.”
They weren’t related, but everyone called her Sister Madeline, a play on HQ being set in the abandoned Catholic church. The men she worked with believed her as celibate as a nun—and frigid too—but if they ever irritated her, she could put them on the ground in a blink.
She took in the creases bracketing Oz’s eyes. “I know you well enough to see you came to give me bad news.”
“It may be nothing.”
“If you went to the trouble of finding me, it isn’t nothing.”
“It’s Dahl. He’s resurfaced.” The blue light etched into all the creases on Oz’s face.
Her heart rate picked up, and she whipped toward the screens again. “Where?”
“There’s no information on his location.”
“But he’s definitely on the grid? Someone saw him?” Her fingers flew over the keys, but nothing popped up on the man she’d been on the hunt for this past year. She’d looked countless times, and the search showed nothing new now.
“Yes, he was spotted by one of our contacts. He’s on the move.”
“Where?”
Oz shook his head. Madeline groaned and leaned back in her chair to rub at her eyes again. The painkillers had yet to kick in.
“We don’t know where Dahl is now. He threw our guy off his trail, but our contact managed to record a clip of him speaking.”
She dropped her hands and stared at her boss. “Why didn’t you say that first? Patch me into it!”
Oz leaned over the desk and passed his wrist over a chip reader. Once the screen flooded with numbers, he selected a code and a new voice flooded into her ear.
Her insides jolted at the tone, but she zeroed in on the words.
She listened twice before spinning to stare at Oz. “He’s going after the New Mexico artifact.”
A crinkle appeared between his brows. “That’s what you got from the gibberish he was saying?”
She nodded. Her insides burned with excitement at finally getting a chance to nail this bastard down. Dahl had been on the move, evading The Guard and every other security company for a year.
“He’s going to find the artifact. He thinks he knows its location.”
“Does he?” Oz asked.
“He has a brilliant mind for tracking down what he wants. Collectors like him have one-track minds—get the object and lock it up in their private collections.” She nailed Oz with a look. “I need to get there before he does.”
Oz issued a low curse. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Which is why you came in here to tell me.”
“Do you even know where the artifact is?”
“No, but I think I have a better idea than Dahl does. He isn’t the only one who knows who to talk to. And I had excellent brandy on my side.” Her mind was already rushing far away from the guys discussing late dinner plans and indigestion keeping them up at night to finding the artifact before Dahl could steal it.
“Madeline, someone has to go with you. You need a partner on your six.”
A knot tightened in her stomach. She didn’t want to admit she could be facing danger, but the fact was, this game meant nothing but danger.
She nodded. “You’re right.”
“Fuck, you’re actually agreeing with me?” Oz jammed his fingers through his dark hair as if her agreeing disturbed him.
“I can’t hunt for treasure and keep myself alive. I need a bodyguard.”
“I never thought I’d see the day you said that. Who will you call in? Maybe that FBI agent—”
She gave a hard shake of her head. “I have a favor I can call in from that new agency—WEST Protection. I helped out Ross in San Francisco.”
“The distraction you made to get his ward out safe—yeah, I remember. Think he’ll do it?”
She flicked her wrist over the chip reader and gave the system a voice command to dial Ross Wynton. Oz leaned on the desk, eyeing her with a certain amount of concern on his face she didn’t like seeing. She twisted her stare away and focused on the ringing in her ear.
“Wynton.”
“Ross, it’s Madeline Peerson.”
“Madeline.” A click sounded as he obviously took her off speakerphone. She pictured the cowboy bringing the phone to his ear. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to call in that favor you promised me.”
“Anything. My ward and I wouldn’t be alive without your help that day.”
The dull ache in her eyes spread to her temples. “I require a bodyguard.”
Silence met her ears. Several seconds passed.
“I’ve got someone for you.”
“Good—be on the lookout for the details in a few minutes.”
“What is going on? I don’t like the urgency in your voice.”
She sliced a look at her boss giving her what she guessed was the same expression Ross wore hundreds of miles away. “I’ll send you the information. Don’t worry beyond that.”
How irritating that he and Oz were worried, when she entered much more dangerous territory on a weekly basis.
She ended the call and turned to Oz once more.
“Tell me what you need.” He kept it professional, recognizing she didn’t appreciate his level of concern.
“I need outdoor equipment. Tents, backpacks, anything else you can think of, but I don’t want to travel too heavy. Keep it light, Oz.”
He was already typing fast.
She considered the terrain in the region where she believed the artifact was hidden.
“And climbing gear too. Where we’re going, we’ll need it.”
Chapter Two
What Mathias knew about his ward he could tick off on the fingers of one hand.
Name: Madeline Peerson.
Nickname: Sister Madeline.
Another nickname: Ice Queen.
Besides having too many names, he knew she’d saved Ross’s ass in California when the traffickers closing in on his ward got a little too close for comfort.
Also, she was searching for an artifact in the wilds of New Mexico, and she required backup. Plan was they’d meet up in Colorado and head south together.
His order was to wait in the vehicle in the airport parking lot and she’d come to him. But his momma didn’t raise a man who left a woman to wrangle her own luggage through an airport, so he stood at the gate, on the lookout for a woman with blonde hair.
He stood head and shoulders above most people, so he had a clear view of the gate. Being summer, the tourists were out in full force. The first few who disembarked, looking as if they just stepped out of a J.Crew photoshoot, definitely were visitors and not locals.
Mathias’s training had him scanning the area for danger or signs of trouble while keeping his eyes peeled for blonde hair. When he spotted a woman, he took a step forward and stopped. The man beside her grabbed her hand and towed her through the crowd, their matching carry-ons rolling along behind them.
Christ, he hated crowds. To his friends and family, this would be a small group, but he considered anything over ten human beings in the same place too many. Another handful of people scattered as soon as they hit the gate, headed to baggage claim. None were blonde.