“The times you thought I was using my voice on a member of our club, or on Blythe, it was to end the argument because I thought my brain was going to start bleeding from all the demons shrieking. It wasn’t to get my way. It was to stop what was going on in my head.”
“Absinthe.” Alena whispered his name, her voice so filled with compassion, he could hear tears. Feel them on his skin. Feel them pounding like rain in his brain.
Lana put her hand on his arm, something she rarely did. “Honey, you should have told us. We could have tried to shield you more.”
“This woman, the librarian, does she shield you? When you’re close to her, does she quiet your mind?” Czar asked.
Absinthe frowned. “Not at first. She’s different though. Her brain is different. When I touched her, I could tell immediately that she was different. She would hand me a book and I made certain our fingers would brush against one another. She moved away immediately, but I work at a very high level and far too quickly. The very first time I touched her, I connected and forged a path between us.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never run across a brain like hers. She’s very gifted. She works on an entirely different path. She switches gears fast and like I said, the learning curve is amazing. I think her brain adjusts for her without her even recognizing what’s happening most of the time. The more we were together, the quieter my mind became until finally it was still. I took her to dinner, and it was still. Completely, utterly at peace.”
Again, there was silence. Czar looked tired, and Absinthe hated that he was the one to put those deep lines in his face. Czar had done more for all of them than they could ever repay. He’d never asked for anything in return, not of significance. Absinthe rubbed the bridge of his nose again, but before he could speak, Czar did.
“You should have told me, Absinthe. You should have told all of us. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through all this time.” Czar shook his head. Pushed back his chair and then hit the table with his fist. “Damn it. What I put you through forcing you to question so many of our enemies. Those fucking pedophiles in the school.”
“I had already been touched by them and knew what they were and how they thought, Czar. I did my part the same as everyone here and I was glad to do it. I’ll always do my part. My demons aren’t any worse than anyone else’s in this room. We have them, we all carry them, and we deal.” He tried to be as matter-of-fact as possible. “The way I deal is through my books. I like the feel of a library. Now, it’s led me to Scarlet. I want to take my time with her, let her get to know me, hopefully bring her in slowly. I want to be her choice.”
He was asking his club to back off a little bit and give him room to maneuver. He mostly didn’t want to risk any of them. Scarlet Foley was a puzzle and he needed more pieces before he exposed any of his brothers or sisters to any danger she might bring. He knew they wouldn’t agree, but he was determined to find out any truths about her on his own, hopefully without using his gifts.
“Anything else then?” Ice asked. He looked around the table. “We’re good then. This meeting is officially over.”
THREE
Aleksei hadn’t come back to the library for three days. Scarlet tried not to be upset or disappointed. She had to view it as a good thing. She had no business dreaming about being with a man, any man, let alone one like Aleksei. He was dangerous. She knew it the moment she’d touched him. That had been deliberate. She couldn’t help herself. He’d walked into the library and her entire world had changed.
She had sex with men because it was necessary. She needed certain skills and she had to pay her dues. She accepted that she had few choices and she used her body to get the abilities that were absolutely crucial to carry out her plan. She had devised that scheme step by step. It had taken those first three years of her life in prison to plan.
She had consulted some very risky people and paid very high prices to do so, but in the end, those risks had paid off. Each person had given her names and places she needed to go to train, and those instructors were the best. Her preparation had taken another five years of brutally physical nine- and ten-hour days, seven days a week, but she’d survived, and she’d learned. She’d become very, very good at what she needed to be.
She was lucky she had a fast learning curve. She’d told Aleksei the strict truth. Her brain just worked that way. She’d trained herself to be fast at reading and comprehending what she read. She loved books and she needed information, so it was easy enough to get it from books. She listened to conversations and she remembered every word, almost verbatim, and that added to the wealth of information she accumulated. She learned to be careful. To be quiet and stealthy. Most men looked at her and never saw beyond what she wanted them to see. She had a body and she used it to her advantage, dressing in clothes that showed her figure but made her look as if she couldn’t possibly move if she had to. No one ever seemed to suspect that a woman could wear clothing that was tight and yet concealed a multitude of weapons.
Aleksei had seen through her disguise almost immediately. She had no idea how she knew that, but she did. She had touched him and connected. Her body had immediately responded to his as if the chemistry between them had been designed just for that purpose. She’d never reacted to anyone no matter how hard they’d tried to get her to. She’d faked orgasms. She’d gotten really good at it, but she’d never had a real one. She’d gotten close just sitting at her desk there in the library staring at him. Fantasizing. That was a first for her.
He was a beautiful man. Really. He had broad shoulders and a really good physique. She’d been around a good many men who were all muscle and knew when a man was totally ripped even when totally dressed. Aleksei was. She knew dangerous, and Aleksei was beyond anything she’d encountered in that realm, although he always looked so casual, and that was what tipped her off. She’d been around dangerous, good-looking men before and not one of them had made her fantasize. He was in a league all his own.
Aleksei was also the real deal when it came to intelligence. Just the one little touch, that first time, had confirmed that his brain worked as fast as she saw him reading. Maybe she got off on what amounted to a brainiac. She paid attention to the books he was interested in—and his interests were very diversified. He had shocked her when he said he was a lawyer. She had a pretty good bullshit meter and he wasn’t lying to her.
She was twenty-seven years old and thought any life she had ever wanted for herself wasn’t a possibility. Not a single day. Not a single night. She didn’t feel sorry for herself. She had made her choices every step of the way and she hadn’t regretted a single one.
Scarlet was a deliberate thinker. She didn’t make rash decisions. Her mind worked quickly, much like a computer, but she definitely thought things over before she made her choices. Still, it had been over a year since she’d heard anything, even a rumor that she was hunted. Maybe she had a chance to have a normal life. She might not deserve it, but Aleksei made her want one for the first time.
Why hadn’t he come back to the library after their dinner? She thought they’d had a great time. She’d been careful. Guarded. She drummed the eraser side of a pencil on her desk, something she never did anymore. She had long since conquered every nervous habit she’d ever had, including fidgeting. The person she’d become on the outside wasn’t always the one she was on the inside. There was the one of sheer steel and then there was the woman inside, hiding, rolled up in a little ball, afraid to ever show herself again. But she had for a brief evening. One time. To Aleksei. She’d let her out, and now that woman wanted out again. She wanted freedom—with him.
Part of her wished he’d never come into the library. She would have remained asleep, like whichever princess in the fairy tale she could never remember—or she’d blocked out. She’d read them all to her sister. Every single one of the stories. She pushed the memory away before sorrow swamped her. She couldn’t go there. She’d drown.
“Ms. Foley?”
Sh
e smiled at Joan Miller. A sixteen-year-old girl who really could be mean as hell when she wanted to be or sweet as sugar when she needed something. Of course, she was never mean to Ms. Foley because, in spite of her age, Joan had already learned to read people and she’d marked Scarlet as someone to respect.
The door opened and a woman came into the library, catching her attention. She always looked. She had to. That was how she stayed alive. The woman was a stranger; she’d never been in the library before, at least not on Scarlet’s shift, and she was generally the one who worked the most hours.
This woman was beautiful. Unique. Unlike a single person who had ever entered. She was elegant, with sleek, black hair, shiny as a raven’s wing, just kissing her shoulders. She wore skinny jeans tucked into boots. Not just any boots, but boots that had to cost a good five hundred or up. They were leather, butter soft, and just as elegant as the woman, with several inches of heels, a tan color that matched her tight tank. The top stretched over generous breasts and emphasized a smaller waist and then showed off flared hips. Scarlet managed to catch all that in a single glance.
“Yes, Joan?” She kept her voice strictly neutral. The last thing she wanted to do was deal with a snippy child who could play mean girl in a heartbeat to some young girl in school.
Joan looked at her face for a moment, shrugged and turned away. “Never mind. It’s no big deal.”
Instantly, alarm skittered down Scarlet’s spine. Something in that offhand tone set off her radar. “Joan, look at me.” She poured enough authority into her voice that the girl turned in spite of the stiffness in her shoulders and back.
“Sometimes, even adults have bad days, and they screw up. I apologize. I was having a private pity party and wasn’t listening properly. Let’s start over, please. I really would like to hear what you have to say.”
Joan shook her head but remained standing in front of the desk. For the first time since Scarlet had known her—which was about eighteen months—the teen looked uncertain and on the verge of tears. She really was upset. Scarlet rose and moved around the desk to circle the teen with one arm and shield her as best she could from any others in the library. There weren’t that many up close to her desk, but still, no teenage girl wanted to be seen crying, especially one like Joan.
“Let’s go over to that table. It’s far more private.” It was in the shadow of two of the tallest stacks, where she could shelter the girl even more. “Sit down, Joan, and tell me what’s going on.”
“Are you sure you have time?” Joan sounded reluctant now that she had Scarlet’s full attention, but she did pull out a chair and drop into the seat.
Scarlet took the chair beside her, caging her in and, at the same time, shielding her body from any onlookers. From her position she could see out the window as well as the door, making certain everyone was safe.
“I have all the time in the world, Joan. Tell me what’s going on.” Scarlet kept her voice low and persuasive. She rarely tried to use her voice to influence the teenagers, other than to have them lower their voices and be respectful of the library and one another, but there was something about the way Joan was barely holding herself together that alarmed her.
Joan shook her head again, as if she would refuse, but Scarlet’s velvet-soft voice had slipped into her mind and already was pushing her to do as she was asked. “I want you to tell my brother none of this was his fault. He’ll blame himself. He always does, but I wanted him to go on the trip with Mom. I did. He shouldn’t miss out because I’m never good enough.”
Scarlet’s stomach knotted. She sent up a silent prayer to the universe. Let me be wrong about her intentions. But she knew she wasn’t. Very gently, she put her hand on Joan’s arm as if she could hold her there. “Tell me where your brother is right now, Joan. Where’s Luke?” Luke was older by a year and, as a rule, he generally was hovering close to Joan, daring anyone to get ugly with her. The siblings were close, and it was rare to see one without the other.
“On another trip with Mom. As usual she said I didn’t meet her requirements and couldn’t go. This one was to Argentina. I’ve always wanted to go there, and she knew it. I did everything she asked of me. I studied, got the grades. I didn’t talk to anyone she told me was beneath us even though it sucked, and everyone hates me because they think I’m like she is.”
Scarlet knew she was in a minefield and she had to be very careful as she negotiated her way through it. “Who is at home with you?” Joan’s father wasn’t in the picture and hadn’t been for so long no one ever spoke of him.
Joan shrugged carelessly. “I’m on my own.”
That was Scarlet’s greatest fear. Two teenage boys came in, both punching at each other, but stopped abruptly when they saw her eyes on them. They skidded to a halt, mouths dropping open when they caught sight of the woman who had walked in just as Scarlet was taking Joan to the private table in the corner. She couldn’t blame them. The woman was looking through the books in the reference area on Egyptian pyramids. That, for some reason, sent a warning chill down her spine. It just happened to be the same reference books that Aleksei had been interested in. No one else had looked at those books in the entire time she’d worked there. What were the chances? A coincidence? She wasn’t buying it.
“How long is your mother going to be gone this time, Joan?” Scarlet asked. She kept the boys in her line of vision and tried to keep the newcomer in sight as well while giving Joan the impression that her entire attention was on her. She had to keep her voice pitched low and tuned to Joan’s exact energy path in order to keep the teenager compelled to answer her.
“Another few days.”
Scarlet continued to look at her. Joan sighed. “Another two weeks. She’s always gone, you know that. She never stays with us.”
“Is Alison there?” Alison was the housekeeper. As far as Scarlet knew, Alison was the one generally looking after Luke and Joan.
“Mom fired her.”
“Why in the world would Brenda fire Alison?” That shocked Scarlet, and few things shocked her. Luke and Joan came into the library almost daily, and sometimes Alison came with them. Never Brenda, their mother. For quite a while she had thought Alison was their mother.
“Luke made a mistake. He can’t love anyone as much as he loves Mom. He was angry with her and he told her that she might as well just not come home at all. Sign papers and give us to Alison. We’d tell the judge we wanted to live with her. The moment he said it, we knew it was a mistake. We both love Alison and the way he said it, Mom could tell. She all but attacked Alison. I think if Luke hadn’t interfered, Mom would have really hurt her. She fired her and made Alison leave right then.” There was a sob in her voice. Tears glistened in her eyes, but Joan didn’t shed them. She dashed them away and looked determined. Defiant. Petrified.
Again, Scarlet had a very bad feeling. Joan was afraid and she’d made up her mind that she wasn’t going to be alive when her brother got back from Argentina.
“Joan, you really want to tell me what you’re so afraid of.” Scarlet lowered her voice even more, whispering directly into the girl’s ear. She had worked and worked on this skill. Practiced hours and hours to use exactly the right tone. She didn’t always succeed, but quite a lot of the time, she could be persuasive, and right then, she knew she needed to be. If she wasn’t, if she blew it, she might lose this girl.
Joan went white. She shook her head over and over. Tears trickled down her face. She looked down at her hands and then finally leaned close to Scarlet. “She lets him come when she’s not home. She tells him I’ll be alone. He gives her money so she can pretend we’re rich and she can go on trips.” Her hands trembled and she pressed them both over her lips as if she was telling a secret that should never have been said aloud.
Joan’s revelation was the last thing Scarlet expected her to say, but she should have read the signs. She was certain Joan was considering committing suicide, but the idea that her mother was selling her daughter to a man so she could ha
ve money never occurred to her. Scarlet moistened her lips and took a steadying breath before saying a word. This was far too important to make mistakes.
“Is he coming tonight, Joan?”
Joan nodded. “He comes every night she’s away.”
Scarlet had excellent hearing, but she had to strain to catch that soft whisper. “You need to tell me his name, baby, and then let me handle it. You’re going to spend the night with Alison. I’m texting her to come get you.” She matched her actions to her words. “You’ll be safe. You don’t have to tell her what’s going on if you don’t want to, but you’ll never have to see that man again.”
“You can’t talk to him, Scarlet. He’s evil. He’ll hurt you.” A shudder went through her.
“You really want to tell me his name, Joan. You’ve wanted to tell someone for a very long time.” That was safe. She was certain Joan had.
Joan was nodding, even as tears ran down her face. The door to the library opened, but Scarlet didn’t dare look away from Joan. She kept her eyes on her, compelling her to answer.
Joan rocked back and forth. “Giles McCarthy.”
She mouthed the name rather than even whisper it, but Scarlet was leaning close and watching her lips, careful not to miss what she was certain would only come once. She sat back, a little shocked. Giles McCarthy was perhaps one of the wealthiest and best-known philanthropists in their town. He gave to every charity and was always the first to be in front of a microphone endorsing a new youth project. He was considered a wonderful man. Everyone liked him. He was single, an eligible bachelor, and often dated some of the most beautiful women in town.
Scarlet didn’t make the mistake of asking Joan to repeat the name or act in any way as if she didn’t believe her. She knew if Joan went to the police and accused the man, no one would ever take her word over McCarthy’s. Joan knew it too. So did Brenda, Joan’s mother. She could take whatever sum he was paying her and continue her lifestyle while her daughter paid the price. Brenda wasn’t the only single mother with a teenage daughter he was reputed to be “friends” with.
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