And in the center: a blazing sun.
For a moment, I forgot my adrenaline, forgot my fear and could only bask in Victoria’s beloved novels. A true book lover like me. How could two people be drawn to the same passion—but embrace that passion from two different sides of the moral compass?
The silence was shattered by the harsh sizzle of another radio. We froze like wild deer, trapped in car headlights. Static sounds crackled—to the front? Or behind us?
“Nothing here, though,” came a deeper voice at the very end. “I think Sven’s losing it.”
Delilah’s arm shot out, pushing me behind her. She grasped the gun, holding it low in front of her.
“No one’s come for it. We’re all set for the transport tonight. We gotta get these—”
I watched Delilah turn the corner and surprise yet another bodyguard. Bigger than Sven, he was just startled enough to reach for his gun two seconds slower than she did.
With steady arms, she held the gun up to his face.
“Hey there,” she said.
From his hip, the radio crackled with voices.
“She’s got a—” the guard started. He shut up when Delilah cocked the weapon and pointed it right at his crotch. He raised his arms with a sheepish expression.
The radio voices were shouting now, and the hallway filled with a red, flashing light.
But Delilah was cool and collected.
“What’s this?” she asked. For the first time, I noticed he was standing in front of a door with a small keypad.
The guard just smirked at her.
In a blur of movement, Delilah had the point of her stiletto pressing at his dick, gun back at his face.
“What’s this?” she said again.
“I think you know what it is,” he said through gritted teeth.
“On your knees,” she said, indicating with the gun.
He dropped heavily, and I watched miles of Delilah’s gorgeous legs appear as she slid down her lace garter.
She placed the fabric into my hand. “You zip-tie while I try my hardest not to shoot him in the dick.”
“Ah, come on, lady,” the guard protested.
But Delilah merely arched a brow. I unhooked a tie and bound his wrists—in what was probably the most surreal moment of my professional career. The flashing lights had sped up, and I didn’t miss the tightness around her mouth.
She was as worried as I was.
“Keypad numbers,” she barked. “What are they?”
“1 2 3 fuck you,” he said.
And then he was doubled over, wheezing in pain—because Delilah had kicked him square in the groin. She yanked his head back and lowered her face an inch from his.
“Keypad numbers,” she repeated, like she was asking for directions to the bus.
“1…5…4…3” he gritted, face contorted in pain.
She nodded at me.
I punched in the code, my pulse racing so fast I felt light-headed. Any second now I expected another fifty guards to stream out from behind the walls and drag us off to Victoria’s secret dungeon.
Distantly, I swore I heard footsteps. My chest was heaving, lights flashing, walls closing in…
Click.
I opened the door and stepped into a small, dark room. I could tell it was temperature controlled, light-controlled—all the makings of the rooms I’d spent my career in.
Very old things would be kept in here: ancient tomes and scrolls and maps with markings that said here be dragons.
Delilah joined me a second later, having duct taped the guard. “Do you see the—”
She stopped, struck completely silent.
Time screeched to a shuddering halt—one snap and the world paused in its orbit. The room was draped in utter stillness; pale, smooth walls hushed the sounds of the messy havoc right outside the door. My heart slowed, my lungs gasped for air, my mind rushed to contemplate the sight in front of me.
There, in the middle of the room, backlit by gentle light, was a book encased in glass. Together, we stepped forward until the tips of our feet touched the stand.
It was small—smaller than I imagined, bound in vellum with gold lettering: De revolutionibus orbium coelestium, Nicolaus Copernicus.
On the Revolution of the Heavenly Spheres.
“You were right, Delilah,” I whispered.
The realization that we’d found the book felt like standing in front of a gale-force wind. I completely forgot to breathe. My fingers ghosted over the glass case, itching to touch something that had become a legend in my mind. Astonishment flooded my nervous system, sent chills racing up and down my spine.
“Henry.”
I brought Delilah’s hand to my mouth, kissed the center of her palm as we turned to stare at each other. The one thing we had desperately searched for was here, right in front of our eyes, and as the lights flashed and the guards ran toward us, there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss Delilah Barrett until the end of time.
“Delilah.” My voice was a rough scrape.
I want to kiss you.
I want to fuck you.
I want to…
Her eyes closed, throat working. “I…I…”
“Tell me.” I kissed her palm again, her fingers brushing my mouth.
“I…see Victoria’s portable case, the one from the other night,” she managed. “Can we put the book in there?” She turned toward the door. “Um…very quickly?”
Adrenaline ripped through me. “Right, of course.”
I shook my head, moved to the case. The glass was heavy as I lifted and I flinched, expecting another alarm.
“There’s probably a silent one,” Delilah said.
I nodded, picking up the portable glass case with the handle. My fingers moved quickly along the edges, searching for an opening.
The front panel slid open.
I blew out a grateful breath.
The Copernicus was secured to a mount which removed pressure from the spine, allowing it to keep its shape. I lifted the mount as Delilah held the door open.
“In my jacket pocket, there’s a tube of mounting glue,” I said. “Can you grab it?
Her hand slid inside the fabric and retrieved it.
“The glass bottom,” I indicated. Holding the mount was making me fucking nervous. I was holding my breath, afraid to breathe on it. “Glue it.”
“Did you have this in your pocket the entire night?” she whispered as she spread glue over the bottom.
“A man has to have his secrets,” I whispered back.
I slid the mount inside and secured the bottom to the glue. I remembered doing this with Bernard for an exhibition, my second day on the job.
“Will it hold?” Delilah asked.
I let it go gently, like a grenade with a hair-trigger pin. Closed the door of the case. Nodded tightly. “It’ll get us back to Codex.”
“We have to run now,” she said. “As fast as we can.”
“What if they catch us?” I asked.
“Keep fucking running.”
“Do you know where the exit is?”
“Not at all. My plan was to run until we reached the end of the hallway and pray there’s a door. We just have to make it to the woods, okay?”
“Carrying a 500-year-old book in our hands.”
Gun cocked, she winked at me and pushed open the door. With the exception of the flashing lights, the hallway was silent. Delilah waved me forward as she raced ahead of me. The case made running awkward and slow—and by the frantic look on Delilah’s face, I wasn’t going fast enough.