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“What way did you think I’d take it?”

“More. . . reasonably. As I say it I see it’s a ridiculous assumption. But can we do this another time? You can rage at me to your heart’s content later but I actually didn’t come here for this,” he said.

“What for then?” I tossed it out like a challenge.

His nostrils flared as though finding a scent. “I didn’t come here for that either.”

I’d just been messing with him, but now I felt challenged myself. “You’d turn it down, then?” I asked. I just couldn’t help myself.

His eyes shuttered, and he looked vulnerable for a moment before he composed himself. “Of course not,” he said quietly, straightening his tie, a nervous motion. “What are you offering?”

“I’d hate to interrupt your schedule,” I said slowly. “What was the urgent issue that brought you here?”

He looked torn but finally settled on the business at hand. “There’s someone else I need you to meet. A latecomer for your team. His flight was delayed.”

“Oh.”

“Can you cover up for this?” He waved a hand at my body to illustrate his point.

I would have automatically thrown on a cover-up if he hadn’t asked and in just that tone. A tone that practically begged me to meet this stranger in my tiny gold bikini.

“I’m fine like this,” I said testily. “Let’s go meet the new guy.”

I spotted him before he caught sight of me, as little good as that would do me.

This was bad, and I had barely any time to brace for the impact.

This car wreck was going to hit me full force either way, I just knew it.

“Oh, shit,” I said succinctly.

“Oh shit what?” Christian asked, sounding vaguely alarmed for his typically carefree self.

“Shit shit shit,” was my only answer.

“Shit shit shit what?” It was Caleb’s turn to sound more alarmed than was customary. Apparently I wasn’t hiding my own personal freak out as well as I could have.

“I know this guy,” I said with resignation. In my head I was taking bets against myself on who would react worse to this little reunion—me, Dom, or the new guy who was actually quite old. Both to me and to the planet earth. “Shit shit shit,” I said. “I should have worn the cover-up.”

Dom shot me an I-told-you-so look, but he didn’t even know the first thing about it. He was about to, though.

The new/old guy spotted me right around the time Dom realized something was up. He was eyeing me with suspicion even as I heard an accented, familiar voice boom out in bewilderment edging toward outrage. “Amarante?”

“Shit shit shit,” I just kept muttering. I was so not ready for this.

Dom glanced back at the man, who was almost on us. “Henri, what’s wrong? What is Amarante?”

Henri didn’t seem to hear him, his eyes locked on me. He was quite tall, with kind brown eyes, the hands of an absolute artist, curly brown hair, and a full beard that hipsters the world over would give their left nut for. He was ahead of that trend by a few neat centuries. He hadn’t changed a bit. He still looked like a hot, French Jesus. He stopped abruptly within reach of me, his eyes wide with horror and wonder. “Amarante. Mon chéri, are you a ghost? Are you haunting me at last? Why now? After all this time.” His hands reached out to grip my shoulders as though to test if I was real.

I winced. Amarante had some ‘splaining to do. Where to start?

“Amarante?” Christian asked, looking instantly cheerful again now that he saw that the alarm was only my own personal discomfort looming ahead. “That’s a new one.”

I glared at him, then winced again. “An old one, as a matter of fact.”

Henri seemed to realize that the shoulders he was gripping were not ghostly at all and moved his artist’s hands up to cup my face. “But I saw you die. I watched your head roll to the ground during the bloodiest sunrise of my life. Putain. It has haunted me in dreams ever since. I was but moments too late to save you. You can’t be real.”

The strange interaction had rendered Dom temporarily mute, but it didn’t last long. “Get your hands off her.” His voice came from behind me and his own clenched teeth.