Bane. Brenda Jackson

      Slowly recovering from their kiss, Crystal tilted her head back and gazed up at Bane. Her lips had ground against his. Her tongue had initiated a dance inside his mouth that had been as perfect as anything she’d ever known. And he had reciprocated by kissing her back with equal need. Waves of passion had consumed her, nearly drowning her.

      But now she had reclaimed her senses and the words he’d spoken infiltrated her mind. She knew there was no way he could go anywhere with her. She was about to open her mouth to tell him so when her cell phone rang. She tensed. Who could be contacting her? She seldom got calls.

      “You plan on getting that?” Bane murmured the question while placing a kiss on the side of her neck.

      She swallowed. Should she? It could be the airline calling her for some reason. She had left them her number in case her flight was delayed or canceled. “Yes,” she said, quickly moving away from him to grab the phone off the table, right next to where she had laid the gun. Seeing the weapon was a reminder of what she had to do and why she couldn’t let Bane sidetrack her.

      She clicked on her cell phone. “Hello?”

      “Don’t try getting away, Ms. Newsome. We will find you.” And then she heard a click ending the call.

      Crystal’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. Who was the caller? How did the person get her private number? How did the person know she was trying to get away? She turned toward Bane. Something in her eyes must have told him the call had troubled her because he quickly crossed the room to her. “Crystal, what’s wrong?”

      She took a deep breath, not knowing what to do or say. She stared up at him as she nervously bit her lip. Should she level with Bane and tell him everything that was going on? The note had said not to trust anyone, but how could she not trust the one and only person she’d always trusted?

      “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said quietly.

      She pulled away to reach for her purse and retrieve the note. “I got this note at work today,” she said, handing it to him. “And I don’t know who sent it.”

      She waited while he read it and when he glanced back up at her, she said, “Yesterday someone broke into my locker at work, and I noticed someone following me home today.”

      “Following you?”

      “Yes. I thought maybe I was imagining things at first, but when the driver stayed discreetly behind me, I knew that I wasn’t. I deliberately lost the car in all the holiday shoppers at one of the busiest malls.”

      “What about that phone call just now?” he asked, studying her.

      She told him what the caller had said. “I don’t know who it was or how they got my number.”

      Bane didn’t say anything for a minute. “Is that the reason for the packed bags? You’re doing what the note said and disappearing?”

      “Yes. Those guys said craziness might start happening and—”

      Bane frowned. “What guys?”

      “Last month while I was eating lunch at a restaurant near work, I was approached by two government men. They showed me credentials to prove it. They knew about the project I’m working on at Seton and said Homeland Security was concerned about my research getting into the wrong hands. They offered me a chance to work for the government at some lab in DC, along with two other chemists who’re working on similar research.”

      “And?”

      “I turned them down. They accepted my answer, but warned me that there were people out there with criminal intent who would do just about anything to get their hands on my research. They gave me their business card and told me to call them if any craziness happened.”

      “Have you called them?”

      “No. After reading the note I wasn’t sure who I could trust. At this point that includes Homeland Security.”

      “Do you still have the business card those guys gave you?”

      “Yes.”

      “May I see it?”

      “Yes.” She reached for her purse again. She handed the card to him and watched him study it before snapping several pictures of it with his mobile phone.

      “What are you doing?”

      He glanced over at her. “Verifying those guys are who they say they are. I’m sending this to someone who can do that for me.” He then handed her back the card. “Just what kind of research are you working on?”

      She paused a moment before saying. “Obscured Reality, or OR as it’s most often called.”

      “Obscured Reality?”

      She nodded. “Yes. It’s the ability to make objects invisible.”