As Wynn St. Jyles searches for the fabled Amulet of Skia among the dangerous market stalls of the Alterrian Islands, memories of her last disastrous mission to the beta dimension haunt her steps. She’s determined not to repeat the mistakes that left her with a broken heart and permanent ear damage, but this trip doesn’t look much more promising.
Particularly when she’s dragged into a dark room, robbed of her aural implant—and the face swimming in her vertigo-stricken vision is the lover who, five years ago, left her in a pool of her own blood.
Kade, an exiled prince of the realm, still carries the pain of the devastating choice that forced him to leave Wynn for dead. Now she’s in his arms again, but the last thing she wants is him. She wants only what he’s trying to protect—the amulet.
Forced to become cautious allies in a violent, inter-dimensional arms race, Wynn finds herself fighting just as hard against a rekindled desire for Kade—leaving her wondering how she can hope to control the key to the multi-dimensions when she can’t even control her own heart.
Product Warnings
Contains pulse-pounding action, vertigo-inducing plot twists, and a love that crosses dimensions.
Footsteps echoed off the close walls and low-hanging rooftops of Thieves’ Square. Wynn St. Jyles stopped in an alcove and listened as the footfalls came closer to her hiding place. She held her breath, afraid her pursuer would hear her labored respirations in the darkness.
Full night had fallen while she’d searched Maseco Calura’s shop for the amulet rumored to be the key to unlocking the Gamma, Delta and Epsilon dimensions. It was her mission to ensure the artifact did not fall into the hands of the bloodthirsty Muloons. That was if she lived long enough to liberate the damn thing from the tiny island of Cordona, located in the Beta dimension off the coast of the Alterrian Royal Islands.
So far, paradise had shown nothing but its dark underbelly. It was a fact Wynn St. Jyles was very intimately acquainted with.
Her heart rate accelerated as the steps neared. She pushed back to the dark recesses of the alcove. It wasn’t like her to hide, but she had no idea who followed her or what they were willing to do to get information. She didn’t dare even hit the communicator she wore as a direct link to her auditory implant in her partially deaf ear, for fear her voice would carry and give away her location.
Surely Cash and the others already knew where she was and had dispatched the troops. If not, she was one dead Jumper.
She lifted the hem of her lightweight tunic, easing the stunner off her hip. The footsteps stopped in front of her hiding place. A dark silhouette stood in relief against the low lighting from the cross street at the mouth of the alley.
Wynn watched as the man—there was no doubt it was a man—moved away from her. Relief was short-lived as he returned only moments later to stand in front of the alcove.
Real fear for her life spread throughout her body like a charge from a snapped power line. She’d been so careful when she broke into the shop. No one had seen her. She’d disconnected both the overt and silent alarms. Her surveillance equipment hadn’t revealed any other means of security. Had someone else been watching the shop besides the Jumpers?
Most likely. If the Muloons already had a bead on the amulet, it was likely they’d had an agent in the area to do the exact same thing Wynn had been sent to do.
Move along will you?
He didn’t hear her silent plea.
Shit, what was she supposed to do—wait in the corner until someone else came along and her skulking pursuer decided to give up, or wait until morning when there were too many people around to make it worth his while to kill her?
Oh God. Who was she kidding? In this part of Cordona, no one would even blink an eye at some man dragging a woman off to only the sea knew where. Human trafficking was as much a part of the trade on the islands as tacky tourist trinkets. Only the former was illegal and the latter should have been.
The bitch of the situation was that if she died now, it would be for nothing. She hadn’t found what she was looking for, or a clue to point her in the right direction. In other words, she’d die in vain.
Not bloody likely.
The man started into the alcove. Wynn raised the stunner. Her thumb slid over the power control, ramping the voltage to full. If he wasn’t going to fuck around, neither was she.
He raised his arm. A light shone in her eyes, blinding her momentarily. As yellow spots clouded her vision, she let her finger hit the pulse trigger and heard his grunt and then the thump as his body hit the ground.
She bent over his supine form, feeling his pockets for identification. He had none. Not surprising. Whoever hired him wouldn’t want his identity known should he fall to an assassin. Too bad she didn’t have the luxury of killing him at this point. If she killed him, there would be no way to know who had sent him. Discovering the man’s employer was paramount.
She tapped the communicator disguised as jewelry clipped to her ear. “Cash, I need a body pickup.”
The reply that came through was a groan. “Is it dead?”
“No, just very knocked out. Can you get a bead on my location?”
“That’s affirmative.” There was a brief pause. “Take off your locator and put it on the body. Then get the hell out of there. Our contacts tell us the polantaria are on their way.”
“Copy that.” Wynn pulled the bracelet locator off her wrist and threw it onto the body. She lifted the cowl of her tunic over her head and left the safety of her hiding place.
The low whistle of the polantaria vehicles sounded in the distance. Cash hadn’t been kidding.
The polantaria were the island equivalent of the royal security forces and they didn’t suffer fools and murderers lightly. The old belief of an eye for an eye was alive and well and living under King Cadson’s rule. Actually, they made the old German Gestapo look like a band of Boy Scouts. It was amazing how they tended to look the other way when enough credits were put in their outstretched hands.
Payments the U.S. Jumpers were known to make on occasion, if it suited their purposes. At this time, it didn’t. The less the security forces knew about the plans to take the amulet, the better off for all.
The Amulet of Skia was believed to be a myth. Rumors began circulating about the time the Muloons threw in their lot with the exiled Vice Chancellor Rehelm of Didan that the amulet not only was real but had been discovered. No one in a place of authority had authenticated the tales, but that hadn’t stopped treasure hunters from both dimensions crossing over to try their luck at finding it.
For the Jumpers it was a matter of dimensional security. The Muloons must not get that amulet.
The sounds of the polantaria came closer. What had tipped them off? Was it just a coincidence, or had they discovered the shop had been hit?
Wynn headed south out of the market district and then turned west along the residential section where large white stone buildings were built six stories into the air as low-cost housing. Most of the inhabitants were workers from the docks, fisheries and marketplace. Their lot would never change.
In Cordona, there was very little room for advancement. It reminded her of the U.K. in the Regency and Victorian Eras—except with more sunshine. But the class systems that were in place were well and truly engrained and dictated by the auspices of the Alterrian royal family.
She continued to walk, moving from the main straightaway to the back alleys until she came to the upscale business district where her hotel was located. Her feet burned, the soles numb and tingling in her flat little sandals. The pain of working in a principality of Alterrian was that one had to dress the part. Her uniform would make her stand out like a rhino on the space shuttle. Which wasn’t always a bad thing.
She looked over her shoulder as she hurried into the hotel lobby and started for the bank of turbo-elevators. An arm reached out from a freestanding telecom station and wrapped around her throat, cutting off her scream.
Jigsawing her body back and forth, she tried to break her assailant’s hold. The hold only tightened as he moved her into a dark room and closed the door.
Strange, exotic scents assaulted her senses. Images waved before her eyes. Oh God, she was going under. They were using some kind of hypnotic hallucinogenic incense to drug her.
She’d heard of this technique before. It was how the flesh traders were able to bind their victims and get them to ports all over the planet without the person even realizing they’d been abducted.
She raised her hand to her communicator, only to have it smacked away.
“Do not even pretend to call anyone.”
Hands moved over her ear, snatching the jewelry from the mooring. She let out a yelp of pain when he tore the junction from her implant. It was like trying to rip her eardrum out by way of her frontal sinuses. The artificial equilibrium provided by the implant failed. Instant and debilitating nausea doubled her over onto the floor.
This was no time to be incapacitated.
She fought down the dry heaves. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead and back. Her shirt stuck to her skin. She thought she moaned.
A fierce Alterrian curse shot out like a cannon blast. Lights came on, sending Wynn into another spiral of agony. Why didn’t he just fucking kill her and put her out of her misery?
Someone bent down beside her. She dared not open her eyes to look.
Warm, calloused hands cradled her head. “Wynn? Wynn?”
She tried to open her eyes, but when she did the vertigo hadn’t receded. Who would know her name here?
“Please, wake.”
“I am awake.” Speaking caused the dry heaves to return. Her captor turned her over before the first wave of retching began.
He started to lift her.
“No! Don’t move me.”
He placed her back on the ground. A strong hand gripped her shoulder. “What is wrong?” The words were spoken in soft Alterrian Standard.
Did she recognize that voice?
Oh God, it couldn’t be.
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