“You okay, pequeña?” Craning her neck back up, she saw both Andreas and Porter hanging over the edge.
“Yeah. Sorry about your cabin.”
Andreas shrugged, shifting his gaze to Rome. “Fitting, seeing as Ramon was conceived in it he should be the one to demolish it.”
Which explained the sentimental value.
“Hey. It wasn’t my fault.” Rome replied to his father’s teasing tone. “Now if you’ll all stop worrying like a bunch of ninnies and get us the hell out, that’d be real helpful.”
When Rome’s hand touched her arm, she jerked her gaze back to him, thinking she’d have to add a neck strain to her list of injuries.
“You ready?” Her backpack was over his shoulder, the plastic bag filled with their damp and dirty clothes in his other hand, his eyes bright with concern and affection. She swallowed and gave him a tight nod.
Guiding her to the rope, Rome helped her to place one foot in the lowest loop, her hands gripping the other one.
“Porter will lead the horse away which will pull you straight up. All you have to do is hold on until Andreas and Santos catch you.”
His hand stroked over her back, providing
encouragement and support. The typical human action made her want to moan at her crazy thoughts.
Cats like to touch, to stroke and rub.
The errant thought was a bombshell of epic
proportions as she smoothly rose from the ground. All too late she recalled how well he could see in the dark, tending to her wounds with ease while she’d practically pressed her nose to her leg in order to see the scrape. Then there were those memorizing eyes of his that, both on the swing several nights ago and in the cabin before it tumbled down, seemed to blend into a yellowish-green color. Like cat’s eyes.Jaguar’s eyes.
She’d seen Santos’s dark eyes do the same damn thing, and looking into his dark brown eyes – identical to Rome’s, Porter’s and Andreas’s – as he and his father reached out to help her, she wondered if whatever inconceivable things she’d been thinking pertained to all the Felix males.
Far from terrified, she found it all rather intriguing.
Chapter Fourteen
Gwen had never ridden bareback before, but that’s exactly what she was doing, legs astride Ares with nothing but a saddle blanket and Rome’s unbreakable grip keeping her upright.
Though he held her gently, one hand spread over her ribcage, his thumb a distracting caress just under her right breast, she felt no fear of slipping off. The reigns were caught in his other hand with easy confidence, keeping the spirited horse under control as they made their way over the slick ground.
Both Andreas and Santos had remained at the site with two horses while she, Porter, Rome, and Scott traveled back to the house. Porter was on Montoya while Scott opted to walk. As Rome filled the other two in on the events leading to this moment, the hand on her torso would flex every now and then as if he were reassuring himself she was safe. And despite all her churning thoughts and unlikely conclusions about the man who held her against his muscled chest as if he would never let her go, she did feel safe.
And cherished.
How weird was that?
Melinda and Annie must have been peeking out the kitchen window because they hurried out the door as the small group crossed the last fifty yards. Gwen interrupted their fussing by declaring her need of the bathroom. After the brief detour, the two older ladies herded her up to her suite against the growling wishes of Rome, who wanted to carry her as if she were some invalid. Granted, her body felt as if she’d been run over by a Mack truck, but she could still walk and climb the stairs.
Once alone in her room, she stripped off her clothes and, lifting her foot on the bathroom vanity, peered at her leg. Rome not only taped the sides of the gauze protecting her wound, he’d covered the whole strip with tape, completing sealing it to keep it from getting wet. Not up to peeling ten feet of tape from her body before getting clean, she left it on and stepped under the hot water pouring from the shower head with a grateful sigh.
She washed her hair several times to get all the mud out and when she opened her eyes to reach for the shower gel, something on the tile floor caught her eye. Bending over, she saw several tiny pieces of stone scattered about her feet. Nice. And so she washed her hair again to ensure nothing else was caught in the thick strands. The conditioner she left in for an eternity while she stood still, head down, eyes closed, and let the heat and steam work its magic on her sore muscles.
That’s when she decided to call her second eldest brother, Lance. Nearest to her in age, they shared the same temperament, outlook on life, and had always been close. In his position as a historical archeologist, he’d read countless documents regarding the literate historical societies in the United States and Europe. Gwen always thought his job boring. Spending day after day in some musty library pouring over barely legible documents would be akin to torture for her. But Lance enjoyed it so she was happy for him, even when he made her eyes glaze over with some long, tedious account he found fascinating while she only wanted to stuff cotton in her ears. Or duct tape his mouth.
Right now, though, all that historical information filed in Lance’s head might come in handy. Especially when paired with certain individuals in the group of men and women he worked with. A passel of professionals from various areas of archeology, including pseudoarchaeology.
Lance’s boss had a tendency to go off on wild goose chases and it was up to Lance and his methodical – boring – research to channel wild into reality. To say they were treasure hunters wasn’t too far off the mark, but it was exactly that, and the pseudo area of expertise, Gwen was most interested in. Who else to explain the possibility of vampires and werewolves, or werecats if that’s what she thought Santos and Rome were.
Or would that be a cryptozoologist?
“And maybe I need to keep my – oologies and – eologies to myself.” Gwen muttered as she turned off the shower with a hard twist of her wrist. “Because believing in Atlantis and vampires is not the same thing.”
She dried off, conflicted. It would be reassuring to have confirmation she wasn’t going insane, outside of an individual she thought might be another mythical creature.
One she’d had sex with.
Remembering the sensual feel of his hands on her bare skin, the erotic touch of his mouth and lips between her thighs, she felt herself go damp. Those liquid pulls of desire swirled in compelling need low in her belly and, with a groan, she pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes.
Rome’s possible … ability ... didn’t alter a damn thing.
She still wanted him. Wanted the chance to run her hands all over his sexy body, feel his muscles ripple under her fingertips, her tongue.
Frustrated with the direction of her thoughts, she tossed the towel over the shower rod and marched into the bedroom. Her eyes automatically sought out the bedside clock, her brows arcing high at the time. “It’s not even noon?” Did that mean she had to go back to work, because she really didn’t think she could force herself into another pair of jeans or the tight confines of a bra. Her back, while not screaming in pain, still hurt. A glance in the mirror before she’d hopped into the shower had shown some nice bruising already starting to form.
Pursing her lips in thought, Gwen reached into the dresser and pulled out lightweight harem pants with a matching tank, hoping her employers would understand if she didn’t finish out the day.
It wasn’t until she sought out her phone that she remembered she didn’t have one. It was buried under a mountain of rubble twenty feet below ground level. The rooms at the bed-and-breakfast didn’t come equipped with a land line, and while there was one in the reception area and another in the kitchen, neither place would afford her any privacy.
“Looks like I won’t be calling him until I get a new phone.” Disheartened at the delay, she padded wearily into the living area, and came to sudden halt.
Someone had been in her s
uite while she’d taken a shower, and unlike the trespassers in the reserve, this individual was welcome anytime. There, on the small kitchen table next to her laptop, was a wrapped plate of food, a glass of ice, a can of coke, a bottle of water, and a cell phone.
After striding over to the front door to make sure it was locked, she headed to the table and picked up the note placed under the phone.
Rome told me you’d lost your phone in the quake so please make use of this one until you can replace yours.
There’s no rush. It’s simply an extra company one that was lying around. Try to get some rest and if you need anything at all, please let me know.
Melinda
Below was the number to the temporary phone as well as the passcode to get into voice mail.
Damn. Gwen sank into one of the kitchen chairs and unwrapped the plate. She didn’t care if the whole family were creatures from the black lagoon with the loch ness monster as their cousin. Melinda’s thoughtfulness, from a simple plate of food to the hidden “treasure” kids found on their hikes in the reserve, added up to one hell of a woman.
The whole family was beyond considerate. Melinda with her welcoming nature, Andreas’s solid strength, Porter’s brotherly teasing and Santos’s gruff loyalty. And then there was Rome, a combination of all with the addition of being sinfully sexy and irritatingly demanding.
With a heartfelt sigh, Gwen sank her teeth into a turkey sandwich and flipped open the phone. Only to stare stupidly at the buttons. She had no idea what Lance’s phone number was. She rarely needed to remember one since she stored them in her phone. Why go to the trouble of remembering when they were only a few thumb flicks away? Which put her in another dilemma. She would have to call her mom, a number she did know by heart, and ask for Lance’s. Her mom would then ask why and before she knew it, Gwen would be spilling everything.
She’d never stood a chance against her mom.
Chewing, Gwen stared at her laptop several
disgruntled moments before she abruptly straightened.
“Idiot.” She mumbled around a mouthful of food, fumbling with the latch of her laptop. “Contact information is also in your e-mail account.”
As the computer booted up, she had a moment of panic. The satellite dish had fallen from the roof last night and, as she’d seen this morning, broken into some nice sized chunks. Hoping the antenna for the the house’s wireless connection didn’t suffer the same fate, Gwen shoved a cranberry-oatmeal cookie in her mouth and tried to access her e-mail.
Score!
Her arms rose high in triumph, making her back muscles protest at the sudden movement. With a wince, she punched in her brother’s number.
“Coultier.” Lance’s voice came over the line, cool and professional, making Gwen frown.
“Oh. Duh. You don’t recognize the number.”
A pause. “Wren?”
The nickname made her think of Rome. Much as Santos had been unable to say Ramon when he was young, Lance had had difficulty forming his gees and so Gwen became Wren. A highly ironic nickname since she didn’t resemble a little songbird in the least.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
He must have heard something in her tone because his next words were softly spoken. “Are you okay?”
She gave a mirthless laugh. “Define okay. No. I’m kidding. Sort of.”
“Do I need to come down there and kick some ass?”
Like her lanky, scholarly brother stood a chance against Rome’s strength and speed. Though that wouldn’t stop Lance. He was plucky and protective and would do his damnedest to take down Superman if the man of steel were harming any member of his family.
“No. I’m good. Really.” She rubbed at her lower back.
“Almost good. I need you to listen for a moment with that brilliant and open brain of yours and not interrupt. Okay?”
“Okay, but hold on a sec.” She heard a chair squeak, a door shut and then another squeak as he settled himself back in. “Shoot.”
He remained quiet as she told him everything, from the initial vandalism to seeing a vampire, falling in the pit and the retrieval process. She even mentioned Rome’s theory about Dennis’s fight and James’s car problems, and ended with her reluctant hypothesis about werecats.
The silence was deafening. Gwen even pulled the phone from her ear to make sure they were still connected.
Finally she cleared her throat. “Are you contemplating how I’d look in a padded cell?”
“Actually, what I’m thinking is that I don’t care if these Felix men are orange-skinned, three-armed aliens from the planet Triosadar. This Rome saved your life, and for that alone he has my eternal gratitude.”
The greasy knot in her gut eased at her brother’s admission. “But is it possible?”
“Anything’s possible, Wren. Over the years I’ve read a lot of accounts of a lot of weird sightings, beliefs, conjectures and myths, and not all of them turn out to be crap. How else do you think we found that ancient ship in Montana? As knowledgeable as humans are, we certainly haven’t seen and discovered everything this world has to offer.” Gwen chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “So how does one discover the truth?”
“In this case,” he paused before adding, “ask.”
“Ask?” Not quite the answer she was seeking.
“Yes. Frankly, it sounds to me like this family is just trying to make a living. Think of it from their point of view. It couldn’t have been easy growing up, having to hide your differences from the world. Unable to make close friends because of your secret, and your fear of how they might react if they ever learned the truth. They’d have to have a real stable, strong and loving environment.”
Gwen nodded, thinking of Melinda and Andreas. “They did. Do.”
“Christ.” Lance was on a roll. “How could they even go to the doctor? And high school must have been pure hell.
Not only did they have to contend with raging male hormones and pretty girls in short shorts, but they had to be able to leash their beasts. Now that’s some serious selfcontrol.”
“Okay. I get it. So it is possible. Both the vampire and the, uh, werecat thing.”
“Definitely. I can talk with Chris and Ria if you want second and third opinions, but you should know Chris would want to high-tail it out there and do some poking and prodding.”
“No.” Gwen said immediately. “No poking. No prodding.”
“I didn’t think so. So that leaves one thing.”
“Yes?’
“Ask.”
Gwen glared at an orange wedge on her plate. “I don’t want to.”
His chuckle made her want to stick out her tongue. “But you will.”
She rubbed her fingers over the table top. “Maybe.”
“You will, because your curiosity will be too great. And then you’ll let me know.”
“Nope.”
Her brother snorted. “Brat.”
“Bully.”
“Wench.”
“Neanderthal.”
“Tree hugger.”
“Nerd.”
Lance laughed. “That is not an insult. And know that we’ve got you settled, tell me more about the tunnel you found, and especially this pirate, Claude Morgan.”
Gwen rolled her eyes, thinking her brother’s idea of interesting and important vastly skewed from her own, but one thing was certain. She did feel lighter than before the call.
Sometime later she was able to finally hang up. Lance promised to check into Claude Morgan and do some research on the estate. He told her that it was quite possible the old cabin in the clearing was an escape hatch, connected to the main house by a tunnel, and might not be the only one. It wasn’t an uncommon practice for those with dangerous professions. Should that be the case, treasure may still exist. Buried twenty feet underground and hidden somewhere along miles and miles of tunnels.
Weary, she stretched out on her bed, not really thinking sleep would come as she stared at the blackout curtains coveri
ng the slider to the balcony. Her brain was too wired.
Not only because of all she’d seen and endured today, but because Lance had ignited a spark of interest in what might possibly lay under the estate, along with a lot of ifs. If Claude Morgan actually lived here, and if he cached a trove of treasure, and if he’d had tunnels built, and if there were more than one that wound all under the property, then it was a miracle none of the buildings had fallen into one. It was also pretty amazing all the trees on the Orchards were thriving.
She looked up at the ceiling fan, watching it go round and round, her eyes growing heavy. On Saturday’s hike, Rome had told the kids that he and his brothers had searched the house, down to the studs, for treasure.
But he never mentioned finding a secret way out.
Chapter Fifteen
Dinner that evening consisted only of Melinda, Annie and Gwen. The women of the household.
The men, Melinda informed Gwen as she set the kitchen table for the three of them, were out searching and protecting and doing manly things.
Gwen rolled in her lips to suppress a grin at Melinda’s peeved expression. “Did they say exactly what kind of manly things?”
Annie lay a bowl of mashed potatoes and a plate of thickly sliced roast beef on the wood surface, the sight and scents causing Gwen’s mouth to water. “Even my Bob is out there. Tromping through the reserve, the old coot. He’d better be careful he doesn’t get heatstroke. I don’t have time to fuss over a stupid, stubborn man.”
“Andreas will watch out for him, Annie.” Melinda lay a comforting hand on Annie’s arm.
The housekeeper blew out a hard breath. “I know. It just ticks me off he thinks he’s stronger than I am. Who was it that was in labor for over twenty hours with all three of our children? It sure wasn’t him.”
Melinda’s face softened with understanding, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “I know. A lot of men think women the weaker sex, to be coddled and protected, and my men have the alpha male dominant attitude down to a tee. It’s a good thing I love them all dearly, else I would have taken a pot to their thick heads years ago and buried the bodies under the orange trees.”
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