Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

It was the sun shining through the window right into his face that woke him. For a moment, he lay there, not quite awake, not quite asleep. He'd been riding a horse through the souk and he'd rescued a very comely thief. Her face was etched in his brain. Gold eyes, cinnamon hair....her name was....

The buzz of the travel alarm cut through the haze and Joseph MacKensey sat up, abruptly, then sighed. Was it a good sign or a bad sign that Casi haunted his sleeping hours as well as his waking hours? He scratched at his jaw, where wheat-colored stubble had grown. There had to be some way to trick Casi into going back home. He got to his feet, stared distastefully at the lumpy mattress and stretched until his spine popped.

Joe padded to the shower, shed the neon green briefs he'd slept in and took a quick bracing shower. Stepping out, he dried off haphazardly, then wrapped the towel around his waist. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when someone knocked . Joe cursed under his breath and stalked to the door, ignoring the toothpaste dribbling from his chin and yanked open the door. "Whaddya doin' here?"

"Good morning. Yes, I'm fine, thank you." said Casi, brightly and walked in. "Brought breakfast. Figured you....might be...." Casi swallowed hard, tore her gaze from the towel. "Hungry." She nodded. "Yes, hungry. That's it." She cleared her throat. "You are hungry?"

Joe bit back a grin at the color staining her cheeks. "Next time call."

Casi looked ready to throw the takeout box at him. "You're dripping."

Joe glanced down and forgot his bad humor. The towel was low on his hips, tucked together at his hip bone and gaped, revealing his thigh, just barely covering the rest of him. Talk about indecent exposure. "Like I said, next time call."

"I meant the toothpaste on your chin." Casi grinned. "Why don't you get dressed and we'll eat."

Joe grunted, grabbed some clothes, then disappeared into the bathroom to dress. He came out a few minutes later clad in old jeans and a T-shirt. In the few minutes he'd been in the bathroom, Cais had straightened the bed covers and pushed the curtains fully apart. Joe sighed. In the sunlight, the place looked like a dump. "Thank you for bringing breakfast."

"You're welcome." Casi flashed him a smile and bit into a buttered roll. "So what's next on the agenda?"

Joe shook his head. "Oh no you don't. I agreed you could stay. I said nothing about you working with me."

"We make a good team."

Joe put down his danish. "Don't, Casi. This isn't some episode from I Spy or Mission Impossible. There's nothing glamorous about my job."

Casi shrugged. "I keep telling you I'm not Jessica Fletcher."

Joe looked blank for a second, then shook his head. "You don't even write mysteries."

"Exactly."

"Huh? Maybe I'm missing something here. What are you talking about?"

Casi gave an exaggerated sigh. "Murder She Wrote glamorized writing. I mean nobody has that much good luck."

"Except you."

Casi looked away, a little embarrassed and kept eating.

Joe took a deep breath. "Look, I know you saved my butt in Hong Kong--"

"And Cairo."

He glared at her. "And Cairo. I know we made a good team in Kenya and at that Christmas party."

"And don't forget Ireland."

Joe pretended he hadn't heard her. "But that was in the past."

"Meaning?" Casi asked in an arch tone.

"Meaning you've got responsibilities now."

"Copout. What were you really going to say?"

Good God, did she know him that well. "You're...not a kid anymore."

"Neither are you."

"That's different."

"How? How is it different?"

"I--"

"Ha!" She said, pointing a finger at him. "A difference that makes no difference is no difference."

Joe crossed his eyes at her. "What? You're Sigmund Freud now?"

"He never said that."

"How would you know?"

Casi shook her head. "What about last year?"

"What about it?"

"We made a good team."

"Let's not mention I was an unwilling participent."

"Shit, I never asked you to go talk to Oscar Wyatt. You did that all on your own."

"Well, he was an asshole in school----" Joe shrugged, then pointed his finger at her. "But then you break into his gallery."

Casi folded her arms across her chest. "I did not break in. I just made sure a door was unlocked."

"Dad should've stuck you in jail for that."

"Why? Didn't do you any good."

"I swear..." Joe shook his head. "Please, Casi, don't get involved. Just play tourist. Promise me."

"I'm not promising a damn thing." She got to her feet. "Damn it, has it registered in that thick head of yours that I love you?"

"Casi--"

"No. Listen to me. I want you safe. I want---" 'Would you die for him?' Casi remembered that movie. It had disturbed her the first time she'd seen it. The thought hit her hard and she studied the man still seated on the bed, his blond hair still wet, his eyes dark with concern. She reached out and touched his stubbled jaw. "I want you. And only you." 'Would you die for him?'

"Casi---" Joe's voice was rough as he captured her hand and pulled her to him. "Don't do this to me." He kissed her hard, tasting the salty tang of butter, the sweetness of her tea.

Casi closed her eyes. When he kissed her, reason tended to fly out the nearest window. Reluctantly,she pulled back, breaking the kiss. "Do you love me?"

Joe groaned. "God, Casi, why do you think I want you to go home? Where it's safe?"

"Do you?" she asked, her tone relentless.

"Yes."

"Then let me help."

Joe closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. When he finally looked at her, his blue eyes held the sheen of unshed tears. "People close to me tend to come to a bad end," he said hoarsely, thinking of Bryce. "I think it's a family curse," he added, thinking now of Jon and Sydnei.

"No," Casi whispered. "You're not cursed. You have such an inner strength it amazes me." This time, she kissed him, gently.

"So where's that strength when I need it?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Casi smiled and felt her eyes fill with tears. "In your heart." She threaded her fingers through his wet hair, felt herself choke up from trying not to cry. "That's why I love you. And love is stronger than steel."

Joe pulled her tight to his chest and kissed her, feeling his tears slide down his cheeks and mingle with hers....

***

She watched the sun rise above the orchard trees. The sudden burst of yellow orange brightened the sleeping sky. Standing on the terrace, savoring the pre-dawn chill, Shakira turned around until she was facing directly east. Swathed in black, she knelt down on her knees and bowed toward Mecca an entire continent away. After saying her morning prayers, Shakira stood up, just as two small figures raced toward her. She gathered her son and daughter into a warm hug as they jabbered alternately in Arabic and French about breakfast, about their dreams.

"Good morning, 'Kira," said Desiree from the archway.

"Good morning."

Desiree gazed out across the city. "Eanna says Raven left before dawn."

Shakira looked over at her. "For good?"

"Eanna didn't know." Desiree finally looked at her. "We need to talk."

Frowning, Shakira sent her children back inside. "What is it?"

"Who is he?"

Shakira went cold. "Who is who?"

Desiree shook her head. "I saw the cards, too. Who is he?"

Shakira stared out at the sky, turning from purple to a light blue. "No one of importance."

"Maybe not to me. But to you?"

"I can't, Desiree."

"Don't you trust me?"

"It's not my secret to tell."

Desiree stared at the flagstone floor. "Do you love him?"

"Oh, by Allah, I do. I've been lonely too long."

"Does he know.....of the situation?"

"He knows enough." Shakira picked at a clay tile that rimmed the balcony. "He tried to get me run away with him."

"Why didn't you?"

Shakira sighed. "This all started because I wanted to prove to Omar I could handle it."

"So? Omar is dead."

Shakira glared at her. "Do you really believe that?"

Desiree slowly shook her head. "No."

"Neither do I. I don't think my father's dead either. But I can't prove it." Shakira started for the French doors leading to her room. "Some days I wish I could."

Desiree frowned. " 'Kira, do you want another reading?"

Shakira cocked her head to one side as if listening for a sound only she could recognize. "He doesn't believe in the Tarot..." Finally, she nodded. "After breakfast."

Desiree watched her leave the terrace and sighed. She lifted her head to the sky. In the west, the last of the stars were fading. A fragrant breeze ruffled her hair, then suddenly died away. Desiree had a bad feeling the next few days would be disastrous. After all, Trump 13 had been in the spread yesterday, indicating major transformation. Something was going to happen...

***

Joseph lifted his head and brushed her tears away. "God, Casi, I wish you knew what it does to me to have you go in where angels fear to tread. God knows, I 'd die for you if it came to that."

'Would you die for him?' "That's a cop out. I want you to live for me."

"Casi..."

She shook her head. "Forget it." She pulled away and stood up. "I'd better go." She dusted off the long-sleeved tunic and long flowered skirt. "You've got things to do."

Joe felt his heart squeeze painfully. Cassandra had a knack for shutting people out completely. He forced himself to do the same, but damn it, it was getting harder. "True. Thanks again for breakfast."

"Forget it." She adjusted the scarf holding her hair back, and started for the door. She stopped with her hand on the knob. "Wait."

Joe wearied of this circular argument. "What?"

She walked back to him, slipped a silver chain over her head. "Here."

Joe stared at the pearl. "Casi, I can't. Your---"

"You can give it back to me when this is over." She took his hand, turned it palm up and put the pearl in his hand, then curled his fingers into a fist. "Take it for luck."

Joe shook his head. "I can't. What if I lose it?"

Casi moved to the door and yanked it open. "You won't lose it, Joe. Right now, it's the only piece of me you've got."

Joe winced as she slammed the door on her way out.

The tears hit the moment she left the hotel. Casi dashed them away, but they kept coming back. He was a stubborn idiot, she ranted silently. He was stubborn, obstinate, mulish, intractable, unyielding, inflexible... Casi's stride slowed as her supply of synonyms dwindled. Finally, she stopped walking and looked around to get her bearings. There was the medina, okay. And there was her hotel. She hurried to the entrance and ran smack dab into a hard-muscled chest. Gentle hands steadied her. "Where's the fire?"

Casi's head shot up and her eyes widened. "You!"

His smile widened. "Nice to see you again. Glad to see you put the pearl in a safe place."

Casi took a step away from him. "Are you following me?"

"Of course not." He nodded at her. "Don't think I'm not tempted."

"Leave me alone."

He held up his hands in mock surrender, the dark sunglasses still hiding his eyes. "Chill, lady. I won't hurt you."

"You so much as touch me and I'll scream bloody murder."

His smile faded. "Calm down."

Casi shot him a glare and went inside, hurrying up two flights of stairs. By the time she reached her room and let herself in, she was breathless. She slammed the door and leaned against it, trying to gulp in air. She'd doubted his intentions in Rabat. With him here, her so-called tourist thing went down the proverbial drain. As a famous villain once said, The first time is happenstance, the second time coincidence. But the third time is enemy action.

***

Joe stared at the pearl in his hand. It was warm and smelled of her. The dream he'd had came back in full force, mixed with sensations of love, desire and frustration. In his mind, he remembered he'd worn a dark red cloak over his clothes, pinned at his left shoulder with a now familiar-looking brooch. Joe sighed and tucked the pearl in a side pocket of his suitcase. Why did the pearl continually make him think of that pin? His mother had only worn it a few times. For a special night out for her and Dad's twenty-fifth anniversary, for Jody's wedding.

He ran a comb through his hair, clipped the gun and holster to the waistband of his jeans under his T-shirt, slipped on his socks and shoes. He had business to take care of--finding Lilith Raven. Joe left his hotel and headed for the souk where he was to meet Jon. As he walked, he caught sight of a man loitering outside the Hotel Imperial Borj. He caught the telltale outline of a shoulder holster and frowned.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Joe turned around. "Eating in."

"Where's the cooler when I need one?"

"Try the souk."

"Don't get smart with me, Mack." Jon folded his arms across his chest, following Joe's line of sight. "What's up?"

"Isn't that Casi's window?"

Jon walked a few feet away, cocked his head to one side. "Could be. Why?"

"Is it just me or is he watching her window?"

"It's just you."

"I'm serious."

Jon sighed. "Maybe it's love at first sight."

"Shit." Joe started forward, but in an instant Jon was in front of him, blocking his way. "Move."

"No. You can't barge over there and ask for his age, name, height, weight, ethnic background and social security number just because he's loitering."

Joe glared at him. "If Casi's in danger..."

"If. Two letters, little word, major implications. We have a job to do." Jon practically manhandled his brother toward the souk. "Besides, this is her chance to prove herself. Do you really want to blow it for her?"

"And if she gets killed, you want it on your conscience?"

Jon's hands clenched. "Low blow, Mack, and you know it."

Joe turned around but the man was gone. "Shit. You let him get away."

"See? No harm done. Let's go."

Joe frowned and reluctantly trailed after Jonathon. "Somehow I doubt that."

***

"You are an idiot." Casi's glare reflected in the mirror seemed to bounce right back at her. "You are." She told her reflection as she braided her hair. "Here you are, bemoaning the fact no one lets you do anything and yet you're cowering in your hotel room, because of him." She came to the end of the braid and looped a ponytail holder around the end of the braid several times. "What you should be doing is following him. Find out what he's up to. And if he's connected to Lilith."

She straightened the tunic, nodding to her reflection. "And if he leads you down some dark alleyway," she almost fancied her reflection saying.

"Oh don't be ridiculous. That only happens at night." Casi turned from the mirror and went to look out the window. He was gone. "Oh well, so much for that idea." She sat down on the bed and sighed, disgruntled with herself. "Chicken."

With a shake of her head, she stood up and walked back to the window. She rested her hands on the window sill and sighed. "Well, I can't stay cooped up in here." For an instant, she missed her house--and her cats, Merlin and the newcomers Rusulka and Salem. A moment later, she flashed on her bedroom, her cool cotton sheets that were a midnight blue, depicting constellations, the mosquito netting that served as a diffuse canopy. Casi heaved another sigh, turned away from the window and laced her fingers together. She was here for a purpose--to find out what Lilith was up to.

Casi walked to the door and pulled it open and stopped cold on the threshold. Looking bigger than life, the dark glasses hiding his eyes, he leaned against the doorjamb and casually played catch with a set of keys.

She swallowed hard. "You said you weren't following me."

"Forgive me. The temptation was too great."

"Somehow I doubt that." Casi squared her shoulders, feeling quite tempted to slam the door right in his face. "So why are you here? To distract me again, so Lilith can take something else?"

His cheerful grin faded and he clenched his fingers over the keys, making them clink one last time. "What do you mean?"

"You know full well what I mean. That was very well-acted, by the way. The kid was a nice touch."

He didn't shift position but she could feel him looking at her. It was unnerving that his eyes were hidden. "Is that what you think?" he asked finally.

"It's very obvious. Lilith likes games. It wouldn't be a big surprise if she was devastating chess player. Her favorite is mind games."

He didn't move but to breathe. Suddenly, his arm jerked and his hand twitched. The keys dropped with a dull clink on the floor. "You know her well."

"Unfortunately."

He slowly lowered his arm but didn't move otherwise. He looked up and down the hallway. "May I come in?"

Casi frowned and took a step back. "Is that like giving permission to a vampire?"

His lips quirked. "I won't bite."

"That's not funny. Give me your gun."

He moved then, to lean down to pick up the keys with his right hand. With his left hand, he pulled the gun free in one smooth move and handed it to her, grip first. It's weight dragged at her hand and she noted the safety was on. She pulled the clip out and pocketted it. "You have one in the chamber?"

His eyebrows rose above the top edge of the sunglasses. "You're a rich man's daughter. How the hell would you know that?"

"I asked a simple question."

"Yes."

"Then I'll keep the gun and the clip." She opened the door wider. "Please do come in."

He walked in stiffly, gave the room a cursory glance, then focused on her. "How do you know Lilith?"

Casi shook her head. "You first."

"Business."

Casi sighed. "A, you work for her? B, she works for you? C, you both work for someone else?"

"D, none of the above."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm assisting her. I don't work for the person she works for."

"Irreconcialible differences?"

"Something like that."

Casi frowned. "She works for Hadad?"

"Something like that."

Casi felt her frustration rise. "Which one? Shakira, Omar or the other older brother?"

He frowned. "How the hell do you know so much?"

"I have my ways. You didn't answer my question."

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

He shifted and spread his hands. "I think it's Shakira.She's the only one here."

"No. That's too simple. I'd already figured that." Casi shrugged. "I mean why else would Lilith be here?"

He shook his head and sat down on the corner of the bed. "I thought that too. But---" He shook his head again.

Casi backed up until her hip bumped the utilatarian chest of drawers. She tightened her fingers on the grip, resting the gun in her left hand. She had one shot if he tried anything. "What's she to you, besides business?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is she your wife?"

"God, no."

Casi arched an eyebrow at the vehemenence in his tone. "Friend?"

"No." He stared down at the floor. "My sister."

Casi tensed. "Is that why you wear glasses? Your eyes are clear, too?"

"Stepsister."

Strangely, Casi felt relief, though she didn't understand why. A part of her acknowledged he was still dangerous, still couldn't trust him. Suddenly, she had to know. "What color are your eyes?"

He gave her a half-smile. "Green."

"Why are you following me?"

"I'm not."

"Liar." Casi watched him. He wasn't moving a muscle but she sensed he was looking around. She jerked her arms up enough for him to look at the gun.

He frowned then finally asked a question of his own. "What are you doing here?"

"I have a score to settle."

He was quiet for a long time. Casi took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. "She hurt someone."

"Dead?"

Casi's head shot up. "Might as well be."

"Can't be that bad."

She glared at him. "Have you ever loved someone?"

He looked away. "Yes."

"You can feel when they're hurting and you want so bad to fix it. But it's not as simple as a fractured rib or a twisted ankle. How do you fix the soul, the mind, the loving..."

He leaned forward, lowered his head into his hands. "A lot of prayer," he said softly.

Casi stared at him, not certain she'd heard right. "What did you say?"

He seemed to snap out of it and stood up. "I have to go."

"No. That's not what you said. You said a lot of prayer."

"That was a long time ago." He held out his hand for his gun.

Casi shook her head. "Did it work?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he scratched at his beard. "No. Give me my gun."

Casi shook her head again. "No, the prayer didn't work, or, no, you didn't get what you had prayed for?"

This time his eyes focused on her, she could feel his glare. "Give me my gun."

"And leave myself wide open? I don't think so."

He shook his head and his mouth quirked into a mirthless smile. "You are a--"

"Don't say it."

"Amazing. How does a rich kid know about the seedy side of life?"

For some reason, his question brought back a memory she'd rather forget....spoiled little rich girl who doesn't know any better.... She cleared her throat. "The rich kid learned the hard way."

One eyebrow shot above the sunglasses. "Do tell."

Casi took a deep breath. "Help me get Lilith."

"Are you crazy?"

"You want her to pay up too."

He stared at her. "No. He shook his head and then ran his palms over the buzz cut. "No. I just want to walk away. Leave all this shit behind."

"Then go. I'll make it easy. I'll keep the gun."

He shook his head. "You are crazy." He reached out and touched the end of her braid, resting over her shoulder. "And beautiful."

"I'm taken."

"Ahh. The someone is a he."

"Yes."

He frowned. "And you love him that much?"

'Would you die for him?' echoed in her head. "Yes."

He nodded. "I see."

Casi stared down at her hands, wondering which question she'd truly answered. When she raised her head, he was gone.

***

"What are we doing here again?"

"Looking for Desiree Seymour," whispered Jonathon.

"And who is that again?"

"Would you just shut up?"

"You."

"You." It slipped out before he could stop it. Jonathon shook his head and heaved a sigh. "Was Casi's brother there?"

"Where?"

"At the wedding."

"Which one?"

"The musician."

"Oh, yeah. Why?"

"Because you're acting like a juvenile delinquent." Jonathon shrugged as they walked through the souk. "Of course, why am I surprised? That's normal."

"Shut up."

"See?" Jonathon shrugged again.

"Me? What about you? You're talking to invisible people."

"My God, where?"

Joe bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" At his brother's glare, Jon nodded. "See how I feel now?"

"I'm not that bad."

"Yes, you are. Actually, you're worse."

Joe shook his head. "No..." Suddenly, he grinned. "Actually, I'm only reflecting your behavior. You were my idol, my beloved role model. How else would I turn out?"

"Oh no you don't. Your role model was Batman," said Jonathon disgustedly. "What you ever saw in Adam West--"

"Don't even. Julie Newmar, though..."

"Well, I'll agree with you there but--"

"I was into the comics, pal. They were a lot cooler than Adam West ever dreamed of being." Joe grinned. "I wanted to be a comic book illustrator."

"And look how you turned out," retorted Jon with a smirk.

Joe rolled his eyes. "Do you know why I liked Batman?"

"Not really. Don't care to, either. You were Batman four freakin' Halloweens in a row. Poor Jody was forced to wear the Boy Wonder getup every time."

"Poor Jody? He liked being Robin. Anyway, the reason I liked Batman was because he was real."

"No, he wasn't."

"Think. Nineteen-sixties and seventies. Yeah, NASA was gung-ho about space and stuff, but was it really possible an extraterrestrial--who looked an awful lot like us, mind you--could crashland on earth? No. And Spiderman, oh come on, the spider would have died from that high a dose of radiation."

Jon shrugged. "The radiation could've raised him back to--" He broke off in mid-sentence and shook his head. "I can't believe I'm actually having this discussion."

"What gave Batman his powers?"

"Is that a trick question?" Jon frowned. "He didn't have any powers."

"Exactly." Joe nodded. "All he had were his wits and his muscles. That's why he was real."

"Yeah, maybe, whatever....but that suit. Couldn't he have picked something more fashionable?"

"What, a red, white and blue swimsuit and red boots?"

"Lay off Wonder Woman."

"Then lay off Batman," Joe sighed. "So is she kin to Solitaire?"

"Who?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "Desiree Seymour. Is she related to the lovely Jane Seymour, James Bond's Solitaire?"

"No."

"So that means she doesn't look like her."

"Got it in one."

"Stop being a curmudgeon. So what does she look like?"

"French."

"Oh, that's a lot of---hey!" Joe let out an involuntary yelp as Jon yanked him behind a booth. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"There she is."

Joe followed his brother's line of sight, to see a woman with long dark hair and blue eyes. Despite the native clothes, he knew her. "Oh shit."

"Don't tell me you know her."

"Unfortunately, all too well."

"Who is she?" whispered Jonathon.

Joe watched the woman walk along the booths, stopping every so often to look at something. He could tell she was alert to what was going on around her. Too bad the clothes hid her best feature. A sudden flashback prompted him to ask, "How long has she been Shakira's advisor?"

"Since December of last year. Who is she?"

"A month ago, was she gone for a while?"

Jon slowly turned to look at him, all amusement gone. "Yes. Who is she?"

Joe sighed. "Her real name is Kendra Hunter, mercenary for hire."

Jon narrowed his eyes. "And how the hell do you know her?"

"We've met."

"Oh....really." Jon glared at him. "Go ahead. Fill me in."

"What's your problem?"

"It's so interesting you know this woman....so well as to recognize her all wrapped up in a djellaba and from several yards away."

Joe arched an eyebrow in genuine surprise. "You're jealous?"

Jon shook his head quickly. "Just curious."

"Curiousity killed the cat, they say. She's ruthless."

Jon watched her and shrugged. "Aren't they all?"

"No, I mean ruthless--as in deadly. As in personal arsenal underneath all that cotton."

"Just how well do you know her?"

Joe winced. "Well enough." He had first met Kendra Hunter nearly eight years ago in England. She'd been an assassin for hire and her mission had been to kill the English prime minister. He'd just managed to stop her. He didn't see her again for a while until he went solo back in early 1999. She kept turning up like a bad penny, like someone else he had the unfortunate luck to know. Kendra was by far the lesser of the two evils.

As if feeling someone watching her, she turned around, her blue eyes searching. Joe stepped out from behind the booth just long enough for her to see him. Jon watched her walk toward them. "So...do you have a girl in every port?"

"Shut up."

She walked around the booth, her eyes locked on Joe's face. In a sudden blur of motion, her hand cracked across his cheek hard enough to rock him back a step. "That's for leaving me stranded in Bangkok."

Joe glared at her. "Excuse me? I gave the papers to Rafael, like we agreed."

"He says you didn't. I'm inclined to believe him."

"Oh?" Joe refused to let her know the slap had hurt, so he folded his arms across his chest. "Because he's your partner in crime?" He shook his head. "How many times---" He broke off suddenly, remembering his brother was there.

Kendra looked over at Jonathon. "You never told me you had a twin, Mack," she said, her husky voice suddenly saccharine sweet.

"You never asked," snapped Joe.

"You really gave the papers to Rafe?"

"Yes, damn it."

In a single instant, Jon realized what Joe had meant about ruthless. Her face went hard, her blue eyes were cold. No temper tantrum, not even a raised voice. "I'll kill him." Kendra said and Jon didn't doubt it.

He stuck out a cautious hand. "We're not really twins. We just look alike. Jonah Kensington."

Kendra nodded, flicking a glance at Joe. "But, of course. Desiree Seymour," she added with a smile, her tone of voice daring Joe to contradict her. She shook Jon's hand. "Nice to meet you."

Joe arched an eyebrow. "How come you never read for me?"

"You never asked." Kendra retorted. "Anyway, I wouldn't have thought you'd go for it."

Before Joe could answer, Jon snorted. "Ha! He goes for it, like a moth to a flame. And what always happens to the moth? It's wings get singed, it falls into the flame, zap, it's dead."

"Shut up, pal. While you still can."

Jon ignored him. "What was her name? Yoda?"

Kendra bit back a grin. "That was her nickname, right."

"Slap him for me."

"But I barely know him."

"Then I'll punch him," growled Joe.

Kendra stepped between them. "So, you don't believe in the Tarot?" she asked Jon.

"No. I don't believe in any of that stuff."

Kendra narrowed her eyes for a moment, then cocked her head to one side. "Well...I do."

Joe frowned. "Now that surprises me."

Kendra looked over at him. "What? That I believe in the Tarot?"

"No. You were followed."

"What?"

***

Cassandra hefted the gun, wondering where to hide it. It was too heavy to tuck into the waistband of her skirt, not to mention she had no holster to put it in. Maybe she should give it back. She sighed and stuck the gun and the clip under her mattress. Right now, it was her only protection. She adjusted the sheets and stood up straight and remembered she hadn't locked her door.

"Hello, Cassandra."

Casi spun around and froze. "Lilith Raven."

"I'm flattered you remember me."

"Don't be." Casi took a deep breath, remembered the damaged windshield and the cost and felt her anger grow. "What do you want?"

Lilith's clear eyes roamed around the room, then settled on Casi. "I want MacKensey."

"Can't have him."

"Surely you have someone else. He did."

"Until you killed her." It all came crashing back, the pre-dawn swim that could have been fatal, Ethan's rental car exploding, what Ethan had told her had happened in Boston and the anger came harder, stronger.

"Tragic, that. I was aiming for him."

Casi tamped her anger down, refused to let it show. Lilith wanted her upset and off-balance. "You missed."

Lilith arched an eyebrow. "Are you a witch, Cassandra?"

Puzzled, Casi shook her head. What on earth was the woman talking about? Samantha Stevens? The wicked witch of the west?

"Then what power do you have over him?"

"That's for me to know and you to never find out."

Lilith cocked her head to one side. "Indeed. I shall find out." She nodded, making the long blond hair ripple. "Yes, you do have something that's not yours."

Casi backed up until her calves hit the mattress. "What?"

He stepped into the room, towering over them both. "My gun."

Casi's eyes widened. "You---" Anger and shock washed over her. "I thought..."

Lilith stepped closer. "He's a very good actor, isn't he."

Casi flinched, realizing that Lilith was right by her side. "Take the gun and go."

Lilith shook her head and sighed. "If only it were that simple." She patted Cassandra's shoulder in a commiserating gesture.

Casi felt a sharp jab and jerked her shoulder away. "What did you do?" she asked, her voice nearly vibrating with the anger inside of her. She took a step forward, then stopped as the whole world seemed to tilt at a forty-five degree angle, nearly knocking her off her feet. She shook her head and blinked. "What...?" Her voice sounded odd and the colors suddenly became painfully bright. "...did you..."

"Grab her."

"I don't think this is such a good idea."

"Just do it."

Then everything went black....

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.