Undercover Desire

By April Rankin

Haunted by nightmares of her past, Amy Howell has spent five years struggling to maintain a normal life, focusing solely on her career while attempting to forget the one man who has ever laid claim to her heart.

Now she is in Paris, working to identify a mysterious stone artifact. What she wasn't expecting was the danger that followed the stone: a danger that left the entire team of archeologists dead. She soon comes face to face with the one man from her past that still has the power to destroy her: FBI agent Alex Nichols.

Despite Amy's unforgiving attitude, Alex knows she still cares for him, and now he must try to win his way back into her broken heart while protecting her from the dangerous men who will stop at nothing to possess the artifact.

In a journey from Paris to a land of mist, myth, and magic, Amy must find the courage to face the desire that Alex reignites and confront the nightmares that plague her.

Can Alex save her and heal her broken heart and soul? Or will Amy surrender to her demons, repeating the past? Will he win her heart or lose her forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: April Rankin
• Release date: Sep 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301179855

April Rankin

April was born and raised in a small town in Southern Mississippi, and is a wife, mother, instructional designer, and daydreamer. She writes short erotica, contemporary romance, and paranormal romance. When she's not at her computer, April enjoys reading, botany, messy science experiments, and lengthy bubble baths. Feel free to find her on Facebook!

Book preview

Novels:

Undercover Attraction

Undercover Desire

Into the Veihl

Dedication:

For M. Ups and downs, lefts and rights, you've weathered them all.

And for my husband, who understands that sometimes I just need to stay

up all night to get the stories out of my head.

I love you both.

Prologue

Five years ago

Amy's eyes filled with tears as she looked away from Alex, trying to hide the fear that swamped her. I can't, she whispered, sorrow making her voice tremble.

He gripped her arms, turning her until she met his stormy blue gaze. Amy, you can't hide for the rest of your life. That won't solve anything. God! The terror she had suffered, still suffered. He would do anything to take it from her.

A sob choked her throat, making her voice raw as she spoke. I know, but that doesn't mean I have to deal with it right now. I'm not ready to. I'm not strong enough yet. Her eyes closed in shame, and she hated that he saw her like this, her emotions so close to the surface, abraded by memories.

His strong fingers cradled her jaw as he tilted her face to look at him once again. You have to heal. Some things fester if you keep it locked inside for a long time. It changes you, makes you a completely different person the longer you suppress it. Believe me, you don't want that.

Amy knew that, had seen it first-hand with her sister, Jenna, who had just recently begun to trust men again after she had been beaten and raped by her ex-boyfriend years ago. Jenna's healing had taken six sad, lonely years.

It had only been three months for Amy. Three long, torturous months that she had been trying to forget the agony, the grief, the feeling of being broken down until she was nothing more than a dirty plaything, at the mercy of her masters, to be used and discarded.

Tears streaked down her cheeks as she fervently wished she could take all Alex had to offer, but her memories wouldn't let her. She still awoke at night screaming, months after the nightmare had ended.

His heart was breaking as he watched the pain flickering over her face. He knew better than to push her too far, too fast, but dammit, she had to face reality so that the healing process could begin.

But she wasn't ready. He knew that now, knew that she wouldn't let it go anytime soon.

Frustration beat at him, but not nearly as much as her pain did.

Shit! Other options were quickly becoming scarce. Even if it meant hurting himself, he would do what he thought best for her, would do anything to ensure she got over this.

Could he be with her every day, aware that his touch, his kisses, only made her fear him more, only drove her from him more forcefully with each innocent caress? No. He could no longer bear to be the object of that fearful gaze, for her to look at him as if he was the worst of her tormentors.

The only option left was to leave.

There was no way he could stay in such close proximity to her and not touch her. She needed time and space to heal, and that was something he couldn't give her when he craved her so badly, ached to be near her, in her.

Somehow, she had burrowed under his skin and now he couldn't get her out. Staying would just hurt her further and he simply refused to do so any longer.

The knowledge ate at him. The realization that he would have to desert her, even if it was for her own good, was ripping at his chest.

Amy had found a hollow place in him and then filled it with her energetic love of life, making him feel complete, satisfied, happy. He would be every bit as miserable without her as she was with him at the moment.

He pulled her into his arms as she cried, holding her loosely to keep from alarming her.

Anger warred with sadness because of the impossible situation in which they found themselves. Each tear she shed dissolved his heart, created a hole that was increasing by the second, filling with a desolate hopelessness that he knew he would be unable to fix.

Rubbing his hands up and down her back lightly, he tried to weigh the pros and cons of his limited alternatives. The cons far outweighed the pros at the moment.

If he stayed, he risked alienating himself, driving her further from him, making her hate him. If he left, she could focus on getting better without him scaring her each time he moved too abruptly, accidentally touched her, moved in for a kiss, but then he would be miserable.

Doesn't matter. He could deal with it. Leaving was the only way.

Eventually her tears dried, her breaths becoming even.

I'm sorry, Alex. I'm trying. I really am. But it's just so hard to face it. Terror was a living, breathing thing inside of her. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she found herself back at that warehouse, unspeakable agony being inflicted upon her, and before she could banish the memories, they took hold of her mind, creating a horrendous nightmare that seemed unending.

Shhh, sweetheart. He ran his palm down her hair, caressing the back of her head as he would a child's, trying to comfort her the only other way he knew how. It's okay, baby. I'll do anything for you. You know that, right?

She smiled slightly and sniffed wetly against his chest, snuggling a little closer to him even though her body inadvertently tensed a little.

It wasn't easy to let a man touch her, even though she and Alex had been far more than intimate with each other's bodies before the trauma. Now, intimacy just wouldn't come easily to her. Not while the tormenting demons and memories still haunted her. And somehow she knew that Alex would be there for her every step of the way.

He was the only reason she hadn't lost her mind yet.

Chapter 1

Modern day

Amy stared out the window of the plane, her head aching from last night and the amount of alcohol it had taken to nurse Mac's broken heart.

A quick glance at her friend told her that Mackenzie was still asleep, curled up on her side in the first class seat, an empty glass of what used to be rum tilted sideways against her lap.

Poor Mac. All she had ever wanted was a good man to make her feel loved and needed.

Amy shook her head, her eyes narrowing at the thought of that slimy asshole that had cheated on Mackenzie Grae, heiress extraordinaire. Seriously, why were men such dogs? Love you and leave you was a code men lived by. Or, in Mac's case, they let you walk in on them with another woman.

Despite the fact that Mac was a brutal businesswoman and president of hundreds of global companies, she didn't deserve what her boyfriend had done to her. Then to top it off, the asshole had told Mac that he could only ever want her for her money, instead of her brains and beauty.

Men. They were all the same.

Her heart hurt for her friend. Mac was beautiful, successful, and yes, rich, but that didn't mean that she couldn't find true love.

Unlike Amy.

Nope, for Amy, love was just another thing that she had crossed off her metaphorical list years ago.

She was a broken woman, afraid of intimacy and incapable of letting a man get close to her. She once was carefree, used men and discarded them like yesterday's undies.

Until Alex.

She had met him through her sister. In fact, Alex was her brother-in-law's brother. Yeah, complicated. Keeping it 'all in the family' had not been intentional. She and Alex had hit it off instantly, and for a while, she had felt like the world was insignificant.

Amy had felt something with Alex that had given her hope, made her wish for a bright future, made her want to be more than she was for him.

But that had been shut down in a traumatic sloshing of ice-cold life. She had been kidnapped and the things done to her still haunted her, preventing her from ever being able to let a man into her life. She had come to depend on the stability that Alex had given her, his steadfast support while she was trying to work through the trauma, but he had abandoned her, unable to deal with the damaged goods she had become.

Men. Not that she wanted one now. She had worked too hard to see her progress go to waste.

After Alex had left, she had been a heartbroken shell of a person, simply going through the motions without thought.

Eventually, her sister and Mac had dragged her out of her misery, adamantly insisting Amy quit being such a baby, and grow up.

She had. In fact, she had grabbed life by the balls, finishing college in record time, putting every ounce of her energy into her studies, quickly graduating at the top of her class.

Granted, having a PHD in something as trivial as ancient art wasn't exactly something she bragged about when people asked her what kind of doctor she was.

Either way, that was one more thing crossed off her metaphorical list of goals.

She wished she were the type of woman who could believe in a happily-ever-after for herself, but her memories and fear of men kept that from being a possibility.

She wasn't capable of love any longer. Any progress she had made in that direction had died when Alex had left. He had been the only man she could let touch her after the nightmare had ended.

Now, too many years have passed that she has dealt with the pain and haunting memories alone to be able to change her ways.

No. She was better off alone anyway.

It was safer that way. The memories stayed in the box that Amy had locked them in, quietly remaining until a day when she could unlock it and face them without having nightmares plague her dreams.

She knew that her past would always rise up and torment her, knew that the sort of trauma she had been through wasn't something she could easily overcome.

Here she was, five years later, still waking up screaming at ghosts, still feeling the terror grip her in its oily clutches. She almost wished Alex had stayed.

He had been there for her through the worst of the nightmares, helping her find a way through them. Unfortunately, intimacy was not an option at that time, the pain too fresh in her mind. She had finally been able to let him kiss her three months after the torture was over. She still stiffened in fear whenever he had, but she felt as if she had been slowly working towards more.

Then Alex had left, deserting her when she had needed him, leaving her to deal with the overwhelming memories on her own. He had simply walked away five years ago, leaving her a note telling her that he couldn't be close to her without causing her to fear him, making the healing process worse on her. He had promised he would see her again when she'd had time to heal and he wouldn't hurt her any longer with his presence.

Yeah, right. Standard Dear Jane letter.

Alex basically hadn't wanted her because of her emotional trauma. He couldn't deal with what she had suffered, thought that every time he touched her, she was thinking of them, and he had left her.

Oh, she didn't blame him one bit, but she wished that he had stayed away in the first place if he was only going to leave. Her heart would have suffered a lot less.

He had tried to talk to her since then, but she was better off staying away from him. Her heart could only take so much pain, and it still hadn't healed from the first time he'd shattered it.

Seeing him now would destroy any semblance of normalcy that she fought hard to gain. No, it wasn't worth it. She just wanted to be normal, to not be afraid of the dark, to sleep without reliving the pain and humiliation over and over.

Her sister Jenna and Mac had tried to get her into therapy to help with the nightmares, but Amy had refused. Instead, she and Mac had signed up for self-defense classes and then came up with their own sort of exercises to help Amy through the worst days.

It worked.

Sometimes.

For the time being, she would focus on her career. She and Mac would be landing in Paris very soon, and she was anxious to start her new project.

Business, of course, but Amy was excited. She had always dreamed of going to Paris, and now she was. The Louvre had requested her specifically.

Apparently, they had recently acquired an artifact that couldn't be identified by any of their specialists. Because of Amy's impressive record and reputation in the field, the Louvre had extended a personal invitation.

As for Mac, well, she just needed the distraction.

When Amy had come home from work to pack, Mac had been in her apartment, drunkenly crying and singing Katy Perry's I Kissed a Girl.

Mac had sobbed as she told Amy about finding her boyfriend in bed with another woman. Amy had almost considered postponing her trip, but Mac had been so thrilled when Amy told her she was going to Paris.

Mac's first thought was that Amy was finally taking a much needed vacation and decided she needed one as well. When Amy explained that this was going to be a working vacay, Mac had agreed to be Amy's assistant at the museum lab. After all, Mac had a similar degree, she just never had to use it because her parents left everything to her when they had died years ago.

The bright side was that Mac knew how to travel in style and she had connections in Paris that might aid Amy if something should come up.

The not-so-bright side was that there was an air of danger surrounding the artifact.

A little danger was nothing when it came to ancient art. Not to mention, after what happened to Amy five years ago, there wasn't much that frightened her anymore.

And there was no one she would rather be in Paris with than Mac. She had been like a sister to Amy since the third grade and they had been inseparable from then on.

Mac was the kind of girl that came from money. Her parents had died while she was still young and, as the only remaining relation of two owners of global empires, she had inherited everything.

Even as a child, her parents had still taught her the value of working for what you want so Mac was in no way one of those spoiled rich princesses whose parents handed them everything on a silver platter. Mac rarely even touched any of the money left to her, unless she had a good reason to do so. She always claimed that she would rather have her parents than a stack of money and therefore didn't see the point of taking advantage of everything they had worked so hard to give her.

It had been five weeks since Mac had last visited her, the company mergers she was constantly supervising always taking so much of her time.

Unlike Amy, Mac had been actively searching for 'the One' for years. She had been dating her last boyfriend for more than a year, and was expecting him to pop the question, but apparently, he'd had other plans. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Mac.

Amy glanced down at her watch. Still three hours until they land. Nothing else to do except take a nap to pass the time.

Chapter 2

The traffic in Paris sucked. It took a good deal longer than it should have to get to the Louvre. The little rental car that had been available topped out at forty, and Mac had made all sorts of over-used jokes about it once they had been on their way.

Amy showed her pass to the security at the rear gate of the museum, and after a bit of his French mumbling, she was cleared to go through. She was almost breathless looking at the huge building where she would be working. The Louvre was every bit as impressive as her dreams had insisted.

A kind, portly gentleman showed them to the research labs, which was nested three floors below the massive art exhibits, and few civilians knew of its existence. They were then led to a set of offices, where an older man with graying temples stood to greet them.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Howell. Bonjoir. Welcome to Pari. His voice was heavily accented in French, his body lean and thin, with brown eyes and a kind smile. I am Monsieur Georges DeMoncliffe. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

Amy took his hand, blushing when the older man kissed the back of her hand. I have heard much about you, Monsieur. This is my assistant, Mackenzie Grae. My intern is unavailable for the time being, so I have asked Miss Grae to step in for the moment.

He bowed again over Mac's hand, offering another welcome then got down to business. "Sil vous plait, call me Georges. I am the President of Operations here at The Louvre, however I do not prefer formalities."

Amy smiled in response. Ah, then you must do the same for us.

He bowed his head in agreement and began their briefing. Two months ago, an archeologist was digging in Crete, Greece, in an ancient temple that had been buried for millennia. He looked back and forth between the two women in silence for a moment, waiting for the information to sink in. Numerous artifacts were found in the site, the most impressive of which was a vast palatial temple that seems impossibly intact, a Greek bathing unit, and a domed temple. The majority of the artifacts predated the Neolithic era. However, in the domed temple, one piece was found that could not be carbon dated.

Amy almost jumped up and down in glee. Ancient art was her passion and this man just told her that she would be working on a piece that dated possibly earlier than any other Greek art found. Her hands itched and she almost wanted to ramble off questions at the man, but she held her tongue and let him finish.

None of our professionals have been able to identify the origin, because it is not typical of Grecian, Roman or Etruscan, which is why I requested you, Madamoiselle Amy. You are the best, and I believe that if anyone can determine anything, it will be you.

"Merci, Monsieur Georges. I am extremely honored that you thought of me, and I shall do my best to find you the information you seek. Mac is also exceptional at her work, and I believe together we will be able to find the origin of your piece. So, when do we begin?" Amy was eager to see the artifact. She knew she was good at what she did, but had never expected to be here, working for the Louvre on a piece than no one had been able to identify.

Georges gestured towards the door. "This way, sîl vous plaît."

Amy and Mac followed him down a large corridor, into a central area that had numerous rooms on platforms with glass walls. Many of them had people within working on paintings and sculptures that were in various stages of carbon dating, photographing, and restoration. It was like a dream come true for Amy.

She heard Mac gasp in delight and followed her gaze. There was a rather large half-restored painting by--who she was sure would turn out to be--Da Vinci. Amy couldn't identify the piece right off the bat, which meant it had recently been acquired, which also meant the world hadn't even been notified that there was another of his works recovered.

They passed by a lab that housed people working carefully to restore a sculpture, the individuals holding brushes, air tools, and picks. Could it be Michelangelo? Amy's nerves were fairly twitching in excitement, and she clenched her hands in an effort to keep it under control.

Georges stopped in front of a steel door. He swiped his security card, punched in a number, and the door slid open.

Amy's head swung about as she stepped through. The vault. This was where the most ancient and priceless pieces were. Originals of some of the most famous art like the Mona Lisa. Many pieces that had yet to be dated, or an artist to be named. They were priceless and made her feel as if she were stepping back in time.

Everything from ancient Greek pottery to Egyptian engravings sat perfectly lined on steel shelves or in vaulted frames. Identification cards sat beneath each piece, stating the location of its find, and what few details the lab had determined.

They turned a corner, and there it was. The most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Well, not really, not while it was covered in mud and dirt, and could barely be considered ancient art, but she felt it in her bones. This was an extraordinary piece that she couldn't wait to restore to its natural beauty.

Mac was every bit as delighted. She leaned as close as she could to the glass case, her breath fogging up the surface, her eyes wide. It's beautiful!

Yes, well, I certainly believe it will be once it is restored, Georges said, carefully unlocking the case and swinging the cover up to reveal the thick slab of stone.

That's all it was. Just a slab of stone, about two feet tall, one and a half feet wide, and two inches thick, but Amy could already tell that it would be a majestic piece that could never have a price put on it.

Mac leaned closer, getting a better look. What are these symbols around the edges? They look like a sort of language that uses runes or something. These aren't hieroglyphs.

Ah, yes. We are unsure. I believe it is a curse. Our language department was only able to translate a portion of it because it is written in a dead language, and most of the symbols are still covered. They had to use various different Greek and Roman dialects to come up with a translation, and even that isn't exact. They believe that many of their current languages may have derived from this one. I have notified our most knowledgeable language consultants and they should arrive tomorrow.

Amy couldn't help but notice that he stayed a respective distance from the stone. You don't believe in the curse, do you? she asked, almost giddy at the thought that the piece could outdate civilization.

He simply raised his eyebrows. Stranger things have happened, Amy. Stranger things...

Okay, so the old man was superstitious. She personally didn't believe in any of that hocus-pocus. Which lab will we be using? Amy asked, eager to begin.

You have the high-security lab. I will show you there and let you in. Your identifications and passes will be given to you soon. This way, please. He led them back the way they came, after carefully enclosing the stone slab again in its case, keeping his distance to avoid accidentally touching it.

Superstitious, Amy thought again, amused.

Their lab was much bigger than the others. It was an entire room devoted to the most modern art devices and tools needed for restoration and dating the artifacts. It looked like a forensics lab, with shiny technical gadgets, computers, reconstruction holographic screens, various cameras for video and imagery, 3D scanning equipment, and everything else that could possibly be needed.

After a quick set of instructions spoken into his cell phone, Georges showed them where everything was in their lab. He told them who to get should they need help, the assistants that were available for their use, and how to contact him using the keypad on the wall. Then he gave them a quick rundown of the typical rules; no outside liquids near the piece, no unproven methods of restoration without his approval, all of the things any professional would already know.

Amy and Mac both nodded agreement, and within moments, two men delivered the stone to them in its glass case on a rolling metal cart. They set it on the lab table, and backed away from it quickly as if it burned.

Amy and Mac looked at each other questioningly when they noticed one of the men crossing himself.

Mac looked to Georges. Does everyone really think this thing is cursed? she asked.

"I must be honest with you. This artifact was found amidst blood and death. The archeologists were all found dead after they relinquished the stone to us. Mr. Beuford, the head of the excavation, told me he believed there were more pieces there, but when I heard nothing further from him or his team, I sent one of our procuring agents in. He found every one of them dead. Fifteen people. All within the same room this was discovered. So, oui, my people are very wary of the piece. Even if I had someone who was able to identify the piece, I doubt I could get them to do so." He shifted nervously on his feet, wringing his hands in worry.

Amy smiled reassuringly. Fear not. We aren't afraid of a small curse. Already she had lived through hers. By the way, what was determined as the cause of death of all the archeologists?

His eyes bored into hers. Homicide. Their bodies were savagely ripped apart, until they were barely identifiable as humans.

Mac laughed nervously. Do you think there is someone out there who doesn't want this found? Someone willing to commit murder to prevent it surfacing?

His face was stone as he turned to Mac. That is the conclusion that your American FBI have come to believe.

Amy stopped. Wait. FBI? Why American agents?

His head turned towards her. Because the archeologists were all American. Also, we must cooperate with the American FBI, answer any questions they may have, and, if needed, allow protective custody until you have gone back to the states.

Amy was aware that her mouth was hanging open. She could understand everything except having a bodyguard. Not to mention, it wasn't public knowledge that she was here to identify the artifact. I do not need a guard.

She remembered the situation with her sister, when Jenna had to move in with Jacob for her own protection. Basically, the whole thing sucked. Well, other than the fact that Jenna fell in love with Jacob and got her Happily-Ever-After.

Either way, Amy wasn't comfortable having any man hovering over her shoulder.

Not when she was still having nightmares. She still woke with the feeling of hands on her body, her skin crawling, the taste of vomit in her mouth. And those were the nights she didn't wake up screaming.

She even became extremely distressed when working with the male interns at her own museum. Although Amy knew not all men were like those two assholes who had raped her, she still had trouble making herself stay within a close proximity to any large male. Even Alex had made her nervous, and she'd been in love with him. No. Stop thinking about him.

Ah. I certainly hope it does not come to that, but because of the curse, and the bodies... His voice trailed off as he stared at the stone, then he shook his head and turned to leave.

He stopped at the sliding glass door and looked back to them. Our language consultants will be here in the morning for you to meet them. Three brothers, and they will be working with you. There are three FBI agents as well, who will be in soon to see what you have uncovered. They are all very professional and came highly recommended. Good luck. I will be in my office should you have need of me. He turned and left them to their work.

Amy and Mac engrossed themselves in the details of identifying the slab. Amy started up her laptop, just as Mac turned on the lab's computer, and they both set about creating files for their finds to be documented. Once that was complete, they both walked over to the stone, studying it under the large magnifying panel.

Amy stated the date and time of the beginning of their research, speaking loud enough for the audio recorder Mac had engaged to pick up her words across the room.

A series of visual tests were completed first, before anything else was done. They took measurements of the stone, weight, laser imaging, high-resolution photographs, and x-rays.

They viewed each digital image carefully and examined the x-rays in order to decide the best approach to restoring the piece. They both marveled over the fact that the rune-like scripting was engraved into the stone, but seemed to be filled with a metal, more than likely gold.

Amy had also noticed that the slab was not solid, but had something running through the center of it, something neither she nor Mac could explain.

Using a support structure for sculptures and architecture came about much later than this piece supposedly originate from, and from the looks of the stone, it was a solid piece of authentic rock, instead of constructed in layers. They both documented various theories, but none of which could explain the possibilities of the embedded contents.

They were at it for hours, and Georges returned with their passes and identification cards, informing them that they could take their lunch breaks at whatever time they preferred as long as they made sure they secured the lab before leaving it.

He didn't stay long enough for them to explain what they had done so far, and after a quick summary of their progress on the video and audio recorders, Amy and Mac took a break.

The café at the Louvre was rather nice and the food was delicious. She and Mac met a few of the other researchers there, as well as a few tourists from the United States, who wanted to talk to Mac about business and investments. She politely gave them tips, then informed them she was on vacation, and the tourists left them in silence, somewhat peeved that Mac had dismissed them so easily.

Oh, well. Amy figured being a prominent financial figure probably did become aggravating at times. It was probably like being famous.

They finished the remainder of their lunch and made their way back to the lab, both of them anxious to try to discover what was embedded into the exact center of the stone. It took another set of visual aids and gamma imaging before they could get a clearer picture of the inside. Whatever it was, they did not want to risk damaging it when they started the cleaning of the slab.

Mac made the comment that the stone seemed like a geode, one of those round stones that held crystals and quartz secretly within, and Amy rather thought she was correct. Almost.

The chemical compound that the computer specified was contained within didn't match any gemstone she knew of. However, it did seem like a logical theory. It was almost as if a thin sheet of crystal was embedded within the stone, holding some sort of liquid contained inside it.

However, a flat geode was impossible, or at least