by T. M. Cromer
Her wide, golden eyes touched on each of them, pausing on the tearful GiGi before darting back to Preston. “Why did you save me?”
“Because my sister wouldn’t be able to live with your death on her conscience. She tells me your son needs you.”
GiGi pulled away from Ryker’s arms and knelt by Leonie’s side. “You’re one of ours now, child. We take care of our own.”
A thick ball of emotion settled in Ryker’s throat as he watched the women embrace. His wife displayed such love and grace, he found it difficult to fathom.
Preston rose and moved to stand in front of him. “Your turn.”
Placing the flat of one hand over Ryker’s forehead and the other over the area of his heart, his brother-in-law blasted him with a celestial healing magic mere mortals weren’t subject to. As his cells warmed to burning, Ryker couldn’t prevent a cry of pain. It felt as if millions of tiny flames lit him from the inside and were forcing their way out through his skin. Sweat seeped from every pore, and for a brief moment, he feared he might faint.
Just when Ryker’s knees were about to give out, Preston removed his hands.
The gentle morning breeze picked up, and Ryker could detect a distinct drop in temperature as it caressed his body. Opening his eyes, he met his wife’s concerned gaze. “Thanks for that, sweetheart. Your brother lit a bonfire under my skin.”
“I was removing the last of the darkness from your body, you pansy ass,” Preston snorted with an elbow to the ribs.
“Don’t make me look weak in front of my woman,” Ryker returned. He grimaced as he rubbed the back of his neck. He lowered his voice and asked Preston, “Am I supposed to feel like I’ve been run over by a semi-truck?”
“You’ll be fine in a day or two. I’ve literally burned all the blood magic out. It’s going to take time for your cells to regenerate fully.”
“Isn’t that what GiGi did?”
“Her fix was only going to work in the short term, and since Leonie didn’t have the original spell Harold used, she wouldn’t have been able to remove it completely.” Preston squeezed his shoulder. “Like a cancerous growth, it would have returned. Now it won’t.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
“Don’t mention it.” Preston opened and closed his mouth as if he wished to say more.
“What is it?”
“I’m sorry about your son, and I’m sorry I led you to believe you’d have another child together.”
Ryker cleared his throat. “He’s alive and well. That’s what matters most.”
“I know, but GiGi…”
“She’ll be fine. She’s the strongest woman I know.” Again, Ryker’s gaze connected with that of his wife across the short distance. “Is it all truly over?”
“Yes. Trina has returned to the Otherworld, and the Council now knows Beecham was responsible for all the atrocities: Trina’s murder, Georgie’s attack, trying to stage a coup. I think you’ll find that when you return, you’ll be cleared.”
“With the exception of this.” He nudged Beecham’s foot with his toe.
“Nah, you’re good. You should’ve seen your wife, man,” Quentin inserted, a wide grin playing on his face. “She was fierce. Told the Council she intended to rip Beecham apart limb by limb and asked if they had a problem with it. Fierce, I tell ya. I can see where my prickly pear gets her sass.”
Ryker exchanged a wry glance with Preston. They both knew well that GiGi was a force to be reckoned with.
25
GiGi woke slowly and rolled toward the warmth of her husband’s body. Although he was asleep, he instinctively gathered her close. For a long while, she lay there with her ear resting on his chest, just over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm.
She’d come so close to losing him today. A small chill chased along her spine, and she shivered.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Ryker’s voice was husky with sleep but still sexy as hell. It caused another involuntary shiver.
“Just thinking about the events of the last few days. It’s been mentally exhausting, hasn’t it?”
“Not to mention physically. I feel as if I could spend the next month asleep and still not catch up.”
She lifted her head and grinned down at him. “The trials of getting old, babe.”
He growled and rolled her over. Resting atop her, he buried his face in the hollow of her throat. “I’ll show you old.”
“Don’t feel you have to wear yourself out proving you’re a better man than Baz.”
He lifted his head to glare down at her. “You didn’t just go there.”
Laughing, she pulled him down for a kiss. He didn’t bother to resist, and GiGi knew he hadn’t been offended by her teasing. When his lips claimed hers, she sighed her contentment. The feel of his tongue stroking hers, his minty-fresh breath, the way… She drew back with a frown.
“What?”
“How is it you have minty breath upon waking?” she demanded.
“Maybe because I was awake for a good ten minutes before you. I figured it would eventually lead to this, and I may have conjured some gum to battle my waking breath.”
She grunted. “I thought you were sleeping.” GiGi ignored his comment about anticipating their kiss; after all, that had been the standard morning routine when they were together, and she loved it.
“I know. I like how you rub up against me like an affectionate kitten when you think I’m out. It’s pretty much the only time you’re not argumentative.”
“I’m not argumentative!” She would have continued to deny his claim, but his raised brow and smirk said she’d proved his point. “Fine. I may argue on occasion.”
“And only when the rest of us are being obtuse,” he declared loyally.
She pulled his head back down so he could explore her neck with his lips. “For that, you get to pick your favorite position.”
“Hot damn!”
A knock sounded at the door, causing them both to groan their frustration.
“Let’s teleport out of here and back to our place,” Ryker whispered his suggestion.
“Don’t even think about it,” Aurora called through the door, apparently having anticipated Ryker’s reaction to the interruption. “Georgie Sipanil has requested we all join her for dinner. You have fifteen minutes to get ready.”
The click of her heels on the marble floor receded after a minute.
“How did we not hear Rorie approach?”
Ryker laughed and drew her into a sitting position. “Let’s get a shower. You’d be surprised what I can do in fifteen minutes.”
They raced for the en suite bathroom like a young couple in love—laughing and exploring every inch of exposed skin. Twelve minutes and two orgasms later, GiGi fell back upon the bed. “There’s nothing as relaxing as a quickie. I’m too sated to go anywhere. Give Georgie my regrets.”
“Oh, no. If I have to go, so do you. Conjure something black and slinky so I can dream about what I’m going to do to you when we get back here later tonight.”
“Mmm, well, only if you promise I get more of the same.” She gestured toward the shower.
He straddled her sprawled body and kissed her bared breast. “I think I can manage that.”
“Ryker?”
The serious note in her voice caused him to lift his dark head and stare down at her.
“Do you think our baby was never truly meant to be ours?”
“What do you mean, sweetheart?” He climbed off her and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Isis had to have known I’d never let Leonie die, not just so I could have her son.” She rubbed at the moisture building behind her lids. “And he was taken from us before he could draw his first breath. It’s like he was never meant to be ours.”
“I don’t know.” He heaved a sigh and stroked a gentle hand across her belly in comfort. “That’s for us to discover when we cross over. Goddess willing, it will be a long time from now.”
“Yes.” She rose and pulled Ry
ker to his feet. “Goddess willing. Let’s not keep Georgie waiting.”
Within minutes, they were strolling down the corridor toward the main hall to join their family. The one constant thought in her brain was Leonie and Armand, and what they would do now that Delphine was gone. GiGi felt responsible, knowing their income would be drastically reduced since the voodoo priestess wasn’t around to cater to the tourists of New Orleans.
She pulled Ryker to a stop and faced him. “What if we invite them to live with us?”
It spoke to how tuned into her needs Ryker truly was because he never asked who or why. Instead, he said, “I think that’s an excellent idea.” He lifted their joined hands to kiss her knuckles. “We can talk to her in the morning.”
“Tonight. Let’s talk to her tonight after dinner.”
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Tonight it is.”
“Thank you, babe.”
“No need. I understand what you feel you owe her because of Delphine, and I also think it would be great to get to know Armand. I just worry you’ll feel the loss that much more keenly.”
She mulled it over for a bit, weighing the pros and cons of having the boy who should have been her son so close, but also to hear him call another woman mother.
“I might. But the reality is, we never had him. Not really. Also, they deserve better than the hand they’ve been dealt lately.”
“I agree. We’ll find a way to persuade her to come stay with us.”
Dinner was a celebration of sorts—if the death of a murdering scumbag could be deemed a celebration, considering the number of victims left in Beecham’s wake. Ryker only wished he’d had more time with his sister. It was selfish because poor Leonie never had a second to say goodbye to her mother.
As he glanced around the table, he felt a rightness. Georgie was alive and, if not completely well, then on the mend. Trina’s murder was solved and her attacker dispatched. There was only one true threat left on the horizon—Victor Salinger. Ryker had no doubt Alastair would handle that evil fucker soon enough.
“What has you thinking so hard, young Gillespie?”
The sound of Georgie’s thready voice stirred him from his musings. She was still recovering from her ordeal, and Ryker worried she’d pushed herself too far today.
“You. Beecham. Trina.” He grimaced, unable to put into words the thoughts tumbling about in his mind. “I’m grateful you’re still with us.”
“Me, too.” She cast a smiling glance down the table toward Knox and Spring. “If it weren’t for those two, I wouldn’t be.”
“I still don’t know why they didn’t tell the rest of us you were okay.” Ryker found it difficult to keep the hard edge of disappointment and anger from his tone. The belief that Georgie was dead had gutted him.
Georgie patted his hand. “Don’t be upset with them, boy. It was my doing. The less people who knew, the better. It was the only way to draw out that sniveling coward, Howard.”
The deep hurt was hard to disregard. She hadn’t trusted him enough to give him a heads up. “I didn’t think I was just anyone to you, Georgie.”
“You are a consummate agent, Ryker. Gifted in all ways. But the fury you felt toward the injustice of the act and Beecham’s part in my ‘death’ couldn’t be feigned. You had to believe I’d died.”
He had no real argument against Georgie’s logic. GiGi’s hand covered his knee in silent support. A single glance showed her sympathy in regard to his feelings. While he appreciated her support, he also hated to appear like a petulant child. He smiled to show he was fine when, in fact, he was stewing inside. Long ago, he’d learned to hide his gut reaction to situations and shelve his feelings until he was alone and could process his emotions. This would be one of those times.
“A toast,” Georgie declared, rising unsteadily to her feet. Silence settled on the group so she didn’t need to shout. “To Ryker Gillespie, the son of my heart. Thank you for caring as deeply as you do about this old woman.” He gripped the trembling hand she held out to him and drew her gnarled knuckles to rest against his cheek.
“You’re not old, Ms. Georgie. You’re perfect,” he declared loyally. And she was. For a woman who had to be pushing ninety-eight, she only looked to be fifty. The tell was her hands; they were far too misshapen to belong to a young woman. Even witches experienced arthritis and other maladies as they aged. No one lived forever.
She ran a loving hand over the top of his head as if he were truly her son. “Thank you, dear.” Lifting her glass for the second time, she said, “To Knox Carlyle and Spring Thorne, you are a match made by the Goddess. Your brilliance saw us through this mess, and I’m deeply indebted to you.”
Spring blushed as Knox whispered something close to her ear. She rolled her eyes, nudged him with her shoulder, and lifted her wine glass, ignoring his deep chuckle. “Thank you, Ms. Georgie. No debt is owed. You’ve been an advocate for our family for three generations. It’s the very least we can do. I’m only sorry we didn’t arrive in time to prevent it to begin with.”
“Finally, to Sebastian Drake. Or should I say Councilman Drake?” Georgie countered his wide-eyed stare with a warm smile. “You’ll take Beecham’s seat. The intelligence and foresight you’ve shown through this mess have proven what an asset you can be.”
“I believe that position should go to Ryker or Nash. They’ve been far more instrumental in keeping the witch community safe from our enemies,” Sebastian demurred.
“I don’t want it,” Nash replied promptly. He met Ryker’s gaze across the table. “Neither does my uncle.” Facing Sebastian, he shrugged—the standard matter-of-fact Thorne response. “That leaves you. The only other person both the Council and the Thornes trust to have everyone’s best interests at heart. And really, Drake, don’t act like you don’t want it. We all know you do.”
GiGi leaned forward with a laugh. “Go ahead, Baz. Take the position. There’s no one better suited for it.”
Sebastian stared at GiGi’s lovely face for a long moment before he nodded. Although he faced Georgie, his gaze lingered a little longer on GiGi before he finally dragged his attention away. “I’d be honored.”
“Good,” Georgie said. “The next order of business is to find you a suitable life partner. GiGi Thorne belongs to my boy here.”
Everyone laughed with the exception of Sebastian, whose cheeks developed a distinctly pink hue. Ryker almost felt sorry for him. He might’ve expressed sympathy if the guy weren’t half in love with his wife.
“I believe you’ve embarrassed our friend enough, Ms. Georgie,” Alastair inserted from his end of the table. He rose and lifted his own crystal flute. “The next toast should be to you, dear lady. Thank you for always falling on the side of what’s right and fair. Thank you for giving the Thornes the benefit of the doubt more often than we probably deserved. We adore you, Ms. Georgie, and we’re happy you’re still with us.”
The elder witch blinked rapidly and cleared her throat. With a graceful nod, she sank into her seat and sipped of her wine. “Let’s finish our wonderful meal, shall we?”
Epilogue
Ryker popped into the kitchen where GiGi and Armand were busy mixing up the dough for chocolate chip cookies. After dropping a light hand on the little boy’s shoulder, Ryker handed GiGi a folded piece of paper.
“Meet me here at seven tonight.” When she would have questioned him, he held up a hand. “Nope. You’ll have to wait and see.” A devilish light flared in his eyes as a decidedly wicked smile curled his lips. He lowered his voice to add, “Wear something sexy and be sure to play along.”
With all her heart, she wanted to forego the meeting and drag him to her bedroom for a lazy day in bed, such was the power of his sinful grin. But he walked away before she could form a coherent thought, much less voice it.
A glance at her watch showed she had a few hours to kill, so she stayed to supervise the dropping of dough on the baking sheets.
“Only twelve minutes and then
you can ruin your dinner,” she teased the boy.
He’d been exceptionally quiet in the week since he and his mother had moved into their place, and GiGi was left to assume the transition might be harder on him than anyone expected.
“Do you miss your old home?” she asked as she smoothed back his hair.
He nodded solemnly.
“And your gran?”
Tears flooded his golden eyes.
“Did she bake with you, too?”
Again, he nodded. “She wants me to tell you something.”
GiGi froze in snitching a pinch of cookie dough. “What is that?”
“She says she’s sorry.” He curled his hand in his long-sleeved shirt and swiped it across his nose. “She says she understands why you did it.”
Heart hammering, she lowered herself to the stool facing him. “She does?”
“She says to take care of me and her girl.”
She cupped his small solemn face between her palms and kissed his forehead. “Tell her I always will.”
“You believe me?”
“That you see your gran?” At his nod, she smiled and tapped his nose. “Yes, darling boy, I do.”
As if a heavy brick was lifted from each shoulder, Armand’s shoulders dropped and his tiny frame relaxed.
“Now, if Delphine doesn’t have anything more to contribute, we’ll finish our baking.”
“She said you forgot the salt.”
With narrowed eyes, GiGi pinched another bite of cookie dough. Damned if Delphine wasn’t right. “Good call, cousin,” she called out. Leaning toward Armand and flaring her eyes wide, she whispered, “Watch how we fix this.” She pushed up her sleeves and waved her arms about in a dramatic display, causing her bangle bracelets to clank. Finally, she wiggled her fingers at the mixture and shouted, “Abracadabra!”
His giggle brought joy to her heart. She imagined, had life been a little kinder to her, she’d have had plenty of these moments with him. But love meant letting go. It meant allowing another to choose their path, and Armand had chosen Leonie as his mother when he was a lost soul in the Otherworld years ago.