by Holly Kelly
Fae’s head snapped up. She sighed as she shrugged. “I should have known you’d figure it out. Most people don’t.”
“I am pretty smart.”
She gave a weak laugh.
“So where is your kidnapper?” he asked.
“She’s in jail awaiting trial.”
“And you have no idea who your real parents are,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Not really. Brigitte is crazy, and I mean certifiably insane. She said my mother is dead and buried near the Fountain of Youth.”
Nick took a quick intake of air and clutched the wheel tightly in his grip. This was an insane coincidence. “The Fountain of Youth? Like the park?”
“No. The real Fountain of Youth. At least, that’s what she said,” Fae said, doubt saturating her voice. “I have no idea how to figure out the real story. I’ve spent my whole life hiding away from a figment of Brigitte’s imagination. She was so paranoid that she never even put me in school.”
“From what happened today, I’d say you have a reason to be cautious.”
Fae’s eyes darted to him and widened. “I guess so. But that has to be a coincidence.”
“Probably,” Nick said to placate her. He was even more confident in his decision to take Fae and keep her under his protection. From the sounds of it, Fae may be indirectly involved in the Fountain of Youth murder case. Perhaps her mother’s remains were there at the scene.
“Listen,” she said. “I know you’re worried, but I can take care of myself.”
“Right,” he said, half to himself.
“No,” she said, straightening up. “I have black belts in Kenpo and Aikido, I’m an expert with both the rifle and handgun, and—”
“Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute,” Nick interrupted. “Brigitte taught you all this?”
“Some of it,” Fae said. “But I also learned from the experts in those areas.”
“So, she didn’t sign you up for school, but she got you into martial arts?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Fae Miller your real name?”
Fae shrugged. “I guess it is now. The court made it official—until I find out who I really am.”
“How did you find out Brigitte wasn’t your real mother?”
“I always suspected she wasn’t. But I tried not to think about it. It was easier to buy into the conspiracy thing than to admit she was mentally ill. I finally came to the point where I couldn’t deny it anymore. I really wasn’t out to get her arrested. I just wanted her to get help.”
Nick sighed. “I’m really sorry.”
She shrugged. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m sure things will be sorted out and Brigitte will get the help she needs.”
Nick frowned. He doubted it would work out as nice and neatly as she thought.
They neared the Applewood Assisted Living Community, and he slowed down to turn into the gate.
“I know you’re older than me.” She smiled weakly. “But I didn’t know you were that much older.”
“Oh yeah, I’m ancient.” Nick smiled back. He paused, obviously enjoying her confusion. “This community isn’t just for the elderly; it’s for disabled residents, too.”
She looked at him, doubtful. “Disabled?”
“Becca—my little sister—has Muscular Dystrophy.”
All humor vanished from her expression. “Oh, I’m sorry.” From what Fae could remember, Muscular Dystrophy was one of the really bad diseases. It took away your ability to function. There was no cure and it was eventually fatal.
Nick shrugged. “It sucks big time. MD is rare enough, but for a woman it’s really rare—especially as severe as Becca’s condition. But there’s not much we can do about it. Brace yourself. What she lacks in ability to move, she makes up for in sass.”
A spark lit Fae’s eyes, and she smiled once again.
Chapter 10
Fae watched the increasingly large houses pass by. This was a high-end community. Agents made pretty good money, but this neighborhood seemed a bit posh even for FBI agents.
“Professor Chase?” she asked.
“We’re not in class, Fae.” He looked at her, smirking. “Call me Nick.”
“Okay, Nick?”
“Yes.” He smiled.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” she said. “Where are your parents?”
“They died three years ago. Car accident.”
“Oh.” Fae’s heart clenched. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It was not a happy time. Becca took it especially hard.”
“How’s she doing now?”
“She puts up a good front, but I know she’s still mourning—both my parents and her old life. She’s always known she has Muscular Dystrophy, but her type is usually mild, so she didn’t expect problems until she was much older. My parents knew even before they adopted her.”
“She was adopted?”
“Yep, we both were. They got me first. And then when I was five, they brought me home a little sister—a two-year-old hellion.”
He slowed and pulled into the driveway of a large home. Next door, a woman with white hair and a thick middle held a water hose and showered her flowers. She raised her head and waved. Nick smiled and waved back.
Stepping out of the car, he yelled, “Hello, Mrs. Tunston. Your flowers sure are looking vibrant this year.”
“It’s all in the fertilizer,” she answered with a smile.
Fae opened her own door as Nick retrieved her bag from the trunk. She stood and took in the sights. Nick’s home was a mixture of brick and wooden slats—very expensive looking, and very different from the backwoods shacks Fae had grown up in.
There were no steps to the front porch. It was all ground level, and the front door was a double entryway that appeared to be made of some kind of solid, dark wood.
Nick opened the door, and cool, pine scented air greeted Fae. A wide entryway opened up before her. Dark wood floors shone, and a crystal chandelier hung from a vaulted ceiling.
A whirring sound came from the right, and Fae turned to see a beautiful woman in a motorized wheelchair. Her hands were gnarled, and her head was tipped to the side. She smirked at Fae.
“Well, well. He brought you home, huh?”
Fae turned to Nick.
“Becca,” he said in a reprimanding tone.
“This is Fae, right?” She blinked innocently.
“Yes, this is Fae.” He glared at his little sister.
“Fae, this is Becca.” He turned to Fae. “Don’t listen to anything she says.”
“If you don’t want it repeated,” Becca said, “don’t say it.” She smirked again. “My brother is your professor, huh?”
“Yes,” Fae answered.
“You know,” Becca said, looking at Nick. “In my brief time at college, I never remember any of my professors bringing their students home, or going out with them. Of course, most of them were ancient and it would have been really disgusting.”
“We’re not going out, Becca,” Nick said. “Fae is a witness in a murder on campus.”
Becca held back a smile. “A murder?” She laughed. “I’d come up with something more believable than that if I were you.” Turning her wheelchair around and rolling away, she called out, “Mrs. Anchovy is almost done making dinner.”
“Mrs. Anchovy?” Fae asked as she turned to Nick.
“Mrs. Anchinly,” Nick corrected. “Becca calls her Anchovy because she knows Mrs. Anchinly hates it.”
Fae chuckled.
Nick smiled. “I told you she had sass.”
Fae’s mood had lightened considerably in the last hour.
“Are you feeling up to eating?”
“I could probably eat something.”
Nick gestured to an adjacent room. “The dining room is that way. I’ll be there in a minute. I need to call my partner.”
Fae nodded, her chest tightening.
Minutes later, Fae sat down at the table across from Nick. There were only two
place settings. “Isn’t Becca joining us?”
“She prefers not to eat in front of other people. She can’t work her arms very well, so Mrs. Anchinly has to feed her.”
“Oh,” Fae said, not sure whether she should offer an “I’m sorry.”
They ate in silence for a few moments. “How are you coming on your Assessing the Crime Scene assignment?” Nick asked.
“Oh crap.” Fae frowned and dropped her fork. “I left it in my dorm room. I’m only halfway done.”
Nick shrugged. “I’ll give you extra time. I think what happened today is a good excuse to get an extension.”
“Thanks,” she said as she picked up her fork and took a bite of salad.
“No problem,” he answered.
“Speaking of crime scenes,” Fae said. “What did you find out about the murder? Do they have a suspect?”
Nick shook his head. “It looks like no one saw the murderer come or go.”
Fae wondered briefly if there might have been anything to Brigitte’s paranoia.
“You look like you’ve had a thought.”
“I was just wondering if Brigitte was right. Maybe there is a secret society out to get me.”
Nick dropped his fork, and Fae’s eyes shot up. He swore under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Fae asked, her stomach twisting into knots.
He sat silent for several minutes. “There’s someone you need to talk to.”
“You do think there’s something to it,” she accused.
“Possibly.”
“Nick,” she said, grabbing his hand. “What do you know?”
“I can’t tell you.” He looked her in the eye. “Really, I can’t.”
She pressed her bottom lip between her teeth as worry crept in. She’d lived in fear of hidden dangers and whispered secrets. She’d thought that was over the day she spoke to the authorities about Brigitte, but she just couldn’t get away. “What are you keeping from me?”
“I wish I could tell you.”
Fae stood, with every intention of storming out the front door. She was sick of all the veiled danger and mysterious threats she’d experienced throughout her life.
“Fae, where are you going?”
“I’m leaving. I’m sick of lies. I’m sick of deception. I don’t want any part of this.” She stomped toward the front door. A hand locked around her arm, and Nick pulled her back against him. Out of reaction, she grabbed his hand and threw an elbow toward his chin, preparing to throw him over her hip. He grunted as he blocked her strike. The next thing she knew, she lay flat on her back and he was sitting on her, straddling her hips.
His face swam into her vision. “Are you okay?”
She fought to catch her breath, and trembled from the adrenaline in her system. “Where did you learn to do that?” she gasped.
“I’m an FBI agent,” he said as if that explained everything. He brushed her hair away from her eyes. She could feel his skin burn across her cheek.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.
She took in a few deep breaths but couldn’t shake the quivering in her chest. “Just my confidence.”
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t let you leave. You don’t understand the danger you’re in.”
“And you do?” she asked.
A looked passed over his face. His eyes looked haunted, burdened by tragedy and dread. He nodded. The fear and vulnerability she glimpsed in his face pierced her heart. He was honestly worried about her. The adrenaline in her system that had fed the flight or fight part of her brain changed into something else. Fae had the insane urge to pull him down for a kiss.
Nick seemed to read her mind. His gaze intensified. He looked at her lips and lowered his head.
He’s going to kiss me.
His lips were warm, and he tasted like heaven. Fae hesitantly reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He growled at her touch, and the kiss grew more fervent, overwhelming her senses. Everything about him drew her in—his taste, his touch, his smell. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. His corded muscles moved and flexed against her and she held on as if he were a life-line. His lips tore away from hers and he trailed hot kisses down her neck into the crook of her shoulder as her breath came out in gasps. She could feel the flutter of his fingertips against her sternum. Her body wanted more, but she was mindless to exactly what that meant. Still, instinct took over as she moved in sync with him.
“Hey, Nick?” Becca’s voice filtered in from the doorway like a splash of ice water.
Nick pulled away and rocked back, breaking free of Fae’s arms. Fae turned to see Becca’s disapproving gaze settling on them as she came through the door. “Nick, you do realize you have a bedroom in this house, right?”
Heat rose in Fae’s cheeks. Her chest heaved.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Nick said, breathless himself. He stood and helped Fae to her feet. She swayed, and he caught her around the waist. “I was just showing Fae some ju-jitsu.”
Becca raised an eyebrow as her glance flickered down to Fae’s chest. Fae followed her gaze. She stifled a gasp as she clasped her blouse together. It looked like she’d had a couple buttons come undone.
“Right,” Becca said, drawing out the word. “Listen, I’m going to watch a movie. If you two don’t have anything better to do, you can join me.”
“Sure, I’ll watch it with you,” Fae said, a little too quickly. “It sounds like fun.” She could feel Nick’s gaze on her.
“Yeah,” Becca said, smiling, “much more fun than rolling around on the floor with my brother.”
Fae seriously doubted it would be that fun. She slipped a quick glance at Nick. He watched her with an unreadable expression on his face. Looking back to his sister, he said, “I’ll come too.”
“Great.” Becca smirked, her head wobbling as she nodded. “I’ll find something with action.” She turned and left, leaving them alone.
“Come on.” Nick led her to the table, his arm still around her waist. “Your dinner is getting cold, and Becca doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
They ate their dinner in silence. Fae realized in those quiet moments that she had a major problem.
She’d not only kissed her professor, she desperately wanted to kiss him again. No. Desperate was not a strong enough word. It took supreme effort not to jump out of her seat and throw her arms around him.
“Um,” she said, and cleared her throat, “that probably shouldn’t have happened.”
Nick didn’t say anything. A scowl settled on his face.
“I mean,” Fae continued, “this could complicate things. I don’t want you to feel you need to give me a good grade, just because you might…”
“Might what?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
“I don’t want to put words in your mouth,” she said.
“Right,” he said.
Was he angry? Heat rose in her cheeks. Why did she have to act like such an idiot around him? She was nothing better than a school girl with a crush. She stood, gathered her dishes, and mumbled, “I don’t want to keep Becca waiting.”
“Fae?” Nick put his hand on her arm. She turned to face him.
“Leave the dishes.”
She could feel her hands shaking as she set them carefully down.
“How about I tell you how I feel?” he asked. “That way you won’t be putting words into my mouth.”
“Okay.”
“Sit down,” he ordered with a quick glance at her seat. When she hesitated, he said, “Please.”
Fae sank into the chair.
He looked her direct in the eyes. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And I think that kiss was enough to let you know, I’m attracted to you.”
Fae swallowed and gave a shaky nod.
“But the truth is, I am your professor. That means, this relationship cannot move further than what it is now. That is, until the end of the te
rm. And no, I won’t be giving you any grade you don’t deserve. But, once the term ends, all bets are off. I intend to pursue you. I expect keeping my hands off you will be difficult in the meantime. I think we are both reasonable adults and have enough self-control to keep things at a professional level. Right?”
Fae nodded, feeling a bit relieved. “I do have one question,” she said.
“Yes?”
“You said our relationship couldn’t go further than it is.”
“Right,” he said.
“And we’ve already kissed.”
A frown settled on his face. It looked like he could guess where she was going. Warmth flooded her cheeks. She asked in a small voice, “So, can I kiss you again?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head, chuckling weakly. “You’re going to make things difficult, aren’t you?” When he opened his eyes, he stood up, pulled her out of her seat, and wrapped his arms around her. Her eyes widened and her heart pounded as her body melded against his. He looked down and gave her a smoldering look as the scent of his cologne teased her senses.
“I can’t think of any alternate reality where I would ever say no when you ask me that question.” With that said, he leaned forward and kissed her so thoroughly, she could scarcely remember her own name.
Chapter 11
Lafayette peered through the blinds of Room 13. The lingering scent of cigarette smoke wafted to him from the dirty, worn curtains. He hated staying in motels, especially ones as rundown as this one. But he couldn’t take a chance of being followed.
Everything had gone wrong! Fae had fought him like a wildcat high on drugs. She’d kicked, she’d scratched, she bit him.… In the end, he’d had to break her neck.
Lafayette snarled as he punched the wall. The wall gave way under his pounding fist. He wasn’t supposed to kill her! Killing her was the last thing he wanted to do. But if he didn’t, someone would have heard her, and he would have lost his chance.
Stepping toward the grocery bag sitting on the bed, he removed the case of mason jars. At the most, he had five quarts of blood. Five! He was supposed to live forever!