by Kat Simons
“Shifters and sorcerers have…tells, like in poker. They have ways of trying to follow you that, over the years, I’ve come to recognize. The van that tried to follow us today…” She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell.”
“Then how’d you know they were following us?”
Six years of experience and the tingling along her spine that happened when danger was near. But Jon knew too much about her powers already, so she just said, “Skill, kid. Skill.”
He frowned at the answer. She grinned then changed the subject to homework and the weekend.
The weekend would be tricky. She preferred to keep Jon in the house where she knew none of the bad guys would find them. But how did you keep a thirteen-year-old house-bound all weekend?
After two cups of coffee and an hour of discussing that in vague terms, they headed back out to the grocery store.
Cary let her instincts open, waiting for the tell-tale tingle. She let out a quiet sigh of relief when nothing happened. In fact, they were out of the car and on their way into the store before the tingle bubbled along her spine. She pulled Jon close and scanned the parking lot. What was it with parking lots today?
Nothing happened, and she couldn’t spot any suspicious bad guys. Not that she’d been having much luck lately spotting the bad guys before they stepped in front of her.
The sense of lurking danger followed her into the store, through the aisles, and while she stood at the checkout counter. She kept Jon next to her the entire time. He stood tense and wary, no doubt picking up her nervousness. They only talked enough to get the shopping done, and as her own gaze tracked the other shoppers, she caught Jon glancing furtively around.
“Don’t worry, kid,” she murmured. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know.”
But he didn’t relax.
They were loading the groceries into the trunk, when the first stray rock bounced off her car. Scowling, she put Jon behind her and looked around. Nothing. She waited, watched. Still nothing.
But the tingles were getting worse. Now it was like tiny needles poking her spine.
After a quiet moment, and a few strange looks from other shoppers, Cary turned to close the trunk. And a carton of milk burst from the bag, flew a few feet from the rear bumper, and splattered across the tarmac.
“Holy shit,” Jon screeched. “What happened?”
Cary pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure, but a list of possibilities scrolled through her mind. Pixies—a lot of them. A sorcerer with an invisibility spell—though if he posed a danger to Jon, she should be able to see him despite the spell. A telekinetic. A clever demon of diminutive size or one who could move at hyper fast speeds. A ghost—she shivered at the mere thought. Jon would probably know if it was a shifter of some kind.
She studied the spilled milk, tried not to groan out loud at the dumb puns running through her head, and concluded the milk was real. So the flying canister wasn’t part of an illusion.
Suddenly, a hail of pebbles rained onto them. One rock reamed her in the shoulder before her protector shields deflected the brutal assault. She tucked Jon as far under her as she could manage and bent her head. She hissed in a breath at the sharp sting of the single hit, chalking up another bruise.
When a six-inch high circle of rocks and debris surrounded them, the assault stopped. Raising her head cautiously, she darted a gaze around the lot. She still couldn’t see anyone. But the lot was suspiciously empty now.
Eyes narrowed, she closed the trunk with one hand and kept Jon close with the other. She could feel the tremor running through his body and heard the raspy pant of his breathing.
“Okay, Jon,” she said. “We’re going to climb into the car and drive away. We’ll be safe as soon as we get back to the house.”
“What’s going on?”
“Not sure yet. But it’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She walked him to her side of the car and held the door for him while he climbed in and slid across to his seat.
She was just turning to get into the car when a knife flew at her face. She stood her ground but squealed in surprise. Fortunately, having that deer-caught-in-the-headlights reaction to a surprise attack worked for Protectors, so long as they were protecting someone. The knife stopped inches from her eye, hovered for a beat, the metal of the blade vibrating. Then it clattered to the ground. Cary released a slow breath.
When the knife rose into the air again, she cringed. “Shit.”
She watched it slash in the empty space around her, seeking a way closer. She followed it with her gaze, afraid to look away long enough to find the attacker. After what felt like a very long time, the blade abruptly changed directions, cutting the air to explode through a car window. The sound of shattering glass made Cary wince.
She took the moment’s reprieve to turn back to the open car door. She intended to dive in but the sound of Jon’s sharp hiss straightened her. Easily eight to ten knifes of various sizes hovered in the air on the right side of the car. So much for facing the attack.
She threw herself into the driver’s seat as the knives trembled against her shield. Just like with the leprechauns, bad guys couldn’t get around her just by sneaking up on her to get at her charge. Still, seeing those knifes hovering beside Jon’s side of the car made her stomach roll with fear.
She started the engine, feeling only mildly safer inside the metal and glass frame. “Okay, I think we should leave. What do you think?”
“Yeah,” Jon said. His gaze still focused on the hovering blades.
He finally looked away when Cary reversed sharply out of the parking spot and swung the car toward the exit. She slammed on the breaks when the ground in front of them started to buckle and heave upward.
“Shit!” She reversed, turning to watch where she was going. She jerked the wheel to one side, throwing the rear of the car into an empty spot, changed gears and drove toward the second exit. The car jumped and bounced beneath her as the tarmac continued to crumble. It felt like driving in an earthquake.
Gritting her teeth, she floored the gas petal and drove right over the top of the bucking pavement. If she had a Hummer instead of a Prius, the off-roading might not have seemed so impossible. As it was, she felt certain her car was going to make her pay for doing this to it.
To her horror, a huge slab of concrete rose up in front of them, blocking the second exit. Jon screamed. Cary spun the car to the right, wincing when her side mirror brushed the slab. She floored the gas again, and they jumped forward just as the slab tipped toward them.
“Fuck.” She jerked in her seat at the sound of concrete slamming into the ground behind her.
Thanking whatever benevolent forces were keeping the lot free of innocent bystanders, she headed back toward the first exit. But before she reached it, she turned early, went through an empty parking space, jumped the curb, barreled over the sidewalk—barely missing a street light—and screeched onto the main road in front of a pick-up truck. The truck’s horn blared.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. The truck’s driver was mouthing something she was sure was rude.
And the parking lot was mending itself, the buckled tarmac settling back into place with only a series of cracks to show for its little dance. She didn’t pause long enough to watch the repair job or see how thorough it would be.
They were four blocks away when she realized she’d never even glimpsed the source of all that chaos.
“Damn strong telekinesis skill,” she muttered.
She winced as the pain in her shoulder started to throb, not helped by the fear and after-effects of her powers making her nerves overly sensitive.
“You hurt, Jon?” she asked.
When he didn’t answer, she glanced at him. His right hand gripped the door handle so hard his skin was blotchy white and red. He was breathing fast and his free hand fisted and unfisted in this lap.
“Hey, Jon?” She waited until he looked at her then caught his gaze for a second before facing the road agai
n. “Are you hurt?”
“N-no. Fine.” His voice trembled.
Yeah, right. Fine. “Sorry about the driving,” she said, keeping her voice calm and casual. “Guess I need an SUV like Deacon’s, huh?”
She glanced over in time to catch his brief, shaky attempt at a grin.
They said very little the rest of the way home.
14
“I was thinking we’d stay in this weekend,” Cary said over dinner that night. She noticed Deacon’s narrow-eyed look but didn’t respond. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the three attacks as he’d arrived five minutes after Sally—as planned since he’d followed her back.
“Why stay in all weekend?” Sally asked.
They were sitting in the living room, eating off the coffee table as usual because Cary’s kitchen table only sat two. Cary and Jon exchanged a look. By mutual consent, they’d decided to tell Sally about the witches and the leprechauns but not the telekinetic attack. Jon hadn’t wanted to tell her any of it, but Sally needed to know the threat was ongoing and real. They decided to leave the last attack out of the discussion because it was the attack that had scared them both the most. And if Cary was shaken, Sally would be hysterical.
“We had a few…things happen today,” Cary said. “And I think it’d be safer.”
Sally’s eyes widened. “Things? What things?”
Cary told the tale, taking intermediate breaks to calm Sally. Jon ended up pulled onto his mother’s lap so she could hug him and make sure he wasn’t hurt. He voiced the standard protests but there wasn’t much conviction in them.
Deacon leaned close. “You’re okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine.”
“There’s more, though?” He spoke too quietly for Sally to hear.
Cary met his gaze and said, “Later.”
He nodded, leaned away, and squeezed her shoulder. She was pretty sure the gesture was meant to be comforting, but he’d inadvertently gripped her bruise, and she hissed at the sharp sting before she could stop herself.
Deacon’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt. What happened? How bad is it?”
“It’s nothing. Just a bruise.” She tried to wave away his concern, but his comments caught Jon and Sally’s attention.
“You’re hurt?” Sally said. “Where? Let me see.”
“It’s nothing really,” Cary insisted. “Just a little bruise. It’ll be gone by tomorrow. Bumped my shoulder on the air dryer in the bathroom at the school today. Didn’t want to mention it because it’s a little embarrassing.”
Sally stared at her, and Cary knew the woman didn’t believe her. From Deacon’s expression, he didn’t either. But they weren’t the reason she’d told the lie. She’d done it to erase the panicked fear from Jon’s gaze. The last thing the kid needed was a guilt complex because she’d gotten hurt protecting him.
“Don’t worry,” Cary told Jon. “I’m fine.”
Jon nodded, but his gaze flicked to his mom and back to Cary a few times.
“You sure you don’t want me to take a look?” Sally asked.
“No. Thanks. It’s just a little bruise.”
Actually, her whole left shoulder could be black and blue for all she knew. She hadn’t looked herself yet. Sometimes she preferred not to see the damage.
Later, when Deacon got up to leave, Sally took Jon and disappeared into the bedrooms. To get out of the way Cary suspected, though Sally was a genius at coming up with plausible-sounding excuses.
“You going to tell me what really happened today?” Deacon asked, as they stood by the front door. He leaned in close, keeping his voice low.
The feel of his heat was surprisingly comforting after the day she’d had. “The witches and leprechauns happened just the way I said,” she told him. “Well, okay, the witches were a lot more powerful than I let on. And I knew one of the leprechauns. If you see Jaxer before I do, tell him Tom is working for the Boss. It’ll probably make his century to be able to stick Tom in the ‘bad guy’ category.”
“So what haven’t you told us?” Deacon asked.
She sighed. “There was a third attack, outside the grocery store. I never saw the attacker, but he was one of the most powerful telekinetic talents I’ve ever witnessed. He had chunks of tarmac rising up to block our way.”
“That when you got hurt?”
“I don’t want Jon to know,” she said, pointing a finger at Deacon to emphasize her point. “That attack scared him more than the others.” She shrugged. “Scared me, too.”
Deacon sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. She watched his jaw muscles flex, as if he was holding back what he wanted to say. She readied herself for an argument about her job. Then he cupped her cheek in one hand and rubbed his thumb over her skin, the gentle touch robbing her of thought. His arm muscles bunched and his jaw still looked tight with suppressed emotion, but his hand was warm, the sweep of his finger soothing. Some irrational part of her wanted to rub her cheek against him, savoring the contact.
She had to keep reminding herself Deacon was a virtual stranger still. Hell, she’d only found out where he lived because Jon mentioned it. She knew nothing about this man standing in her doorway. How could his simple physical contact make her feel safe and cared for?
He leaned down and set his forehead against hers. She thought for a moment he might kiss her and was embarrassed to realize she wouldn’t have objected.
Instead, he said, “I’m going to meet you at the school from now on. Follow you home. Stay with you until I go to follow Sally.”
“Deacon, you can’t. You have your own life, your own job. We’ll be—”
He cut her off with harsh hiss, his hand on her cheek moving to the back of her neck. “I need to do this, Cary. I have to.” He swallowed hard. “I won’t be able to concentrate if I think you’re in danger and I’m not there to help.”
She shook her head. Though, she had to admit, his offer was kind of sweet. “It’s not necessary.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she said, “But you’re a grown man, and I can’t stop you. Just do me a favor and don’t complicate things for me. Stay where I can protect you, too.”
He smiled, slow and dangerously. “It’s also a good excuse to spend more time with you,” he said, straightening enough to meet her gaze.
Her stomach danced at the look in his eyes, all heat and desire. His gaze dropped to her lips and she could practically feel the look like a touch. Her heart hammered, all thoughts of her job and the scary bad guys she’d faced that day forgotten. She pulled in a deep breath, taking in his yummy warm scent, leaning in a little closer before she could catch herself.
Oops.
She pulled back. “You’d better go before I forget I have house guests.”
He glanced toward the hall leading to the bedrooms. “We have a few more minutes of privacy. Sally’s making Jon look over his homework.”
“You can hear them?” Cary asked.
He nodded once, then pulled her into his arms.
She considered objecting. She had a lot of very good reasons for wanting to take things more slowly with him. They hadn’t even had time for a proper date yet. He wasn’t actually her boyfriend. She barely knew him.
But when he lowered his mouth to hers, all the excuses faded into a background hum, less important than the feel of his lips against hers, the taste of him, the heat of him surrounding her. His arms flexed, pulling her flush against his chest and she sighed.
Later, she’d be worried about how right this felt, having Deacon’s hands on her, kissing him like they’d been kissing for years. But after her day, she just couldn’t seem to care.
She let her head loll to one side as he nudged the edge of her shirt aside to nibble the place where her neck and shoulder met. Liquid heat seeped through her veins. His mouth was so drugging, she barely noticed he’d moved to her uninjured shoulder. When he nipped her skin, she jumped, yelped, and moaned all at the same time.
“You probably o
ught to…to go.” Gee, that sounded convincing, she thought with an inner wince.
“Okay,” he said.
But he didn’t stop kissing her neck or nuzzling aside her shirt. The hands she moved to his shoulders to push him away tugged him closer.
“I’m serious,” she said, her voice breathy and patently not serious.
“You’re right. I’ll go now.” His mouth found hers again.
Cary’s stomach quivered, her toes curled, her blood boiled. Every lustful cliché she could think of played out inside her. Deacon kissed so damned good, she forgot everything. And that instant of living just for the moment was sheer bliss.
In the end, he was the one to stop the kissing and stroking, though he looked as pained by the effort as she felt.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he murmured.
Saturday morning, and a weekend ahead of them with nothing to do but hide in the house.
“You’re going to be bored,” she warned. “We’ll probably spend the day watching movies and playing with the dogs.”
“I’ll bring a few of my favorite DVDs. Donuts or bagels?”
“I’m serious, Deacon.”
“About donuts or bagels? I know.”
She laughed despite herself. “I meant about you being bored.”
“I’ll be with you. How could I possibly be bored?”
After closing the front door behind him, she bounced her head lightly off the wood. She could get addicted to that man very quickly. For more than just his kisses.
15
Cary was out of bed early Saturday morning. Her night had been haunted by lusty Deacon dreams. Sweaty sheets, hard muscles, the slide of a clever tongue over her heated skin. The feel of him beneath her fingertips, the taste of him in her mouth.
When she woke, her sheets were a twisted tangle around her body, and she imagined she could smell him in her room.
Groaning, she headed out to the kitchen. If she wasn’t going to sleep, she was going to drink coffee. Once the pot was on, she wandered out the back door with the dogs. The air was crisp and damp, cold enough to see her breath. The clouds were a dark gray, threatening a downpour later.