No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1)

by Stasia Morineaux

  I just stood there, dazed. This morning had started out mere moments ago and I’d woken, surprisingly, in a good mood. Almost hopeful. Happy to be lost in his kisses again. Happy to see the reservation gone from him.

  And now here it was again.

  “Iliana…”

  The sound of that name, my name now, made me flinch.

  “This isn’t a good idea. This…” he gestured between the two of us, “is not supposed to happen.”

  “Why?” I breathed, exasperated, heart sinking.

  “I don’t want to simply shag you, or be your diversion from what you’re in the midst of.”

  I tried to interrupt him, to tell him it was more than that, more than what he was saying.

  “No, let me finish, please. I understand how much you’re hurting, how confusing, how bloody messed up it all is. But you said it yourself; I make you remember better times. I make you feel like who you used to be. Maybe that is not such a great thing. Maybe that’s not enough. You need to become whoever it is you are meant to become.”

  He barely looked at me.

  I was numb, struck dumb and mute by his words. Being with him felt good, not just when we were kissing. We hadn’t had that much time, but being stuck in a car for almost twenty hours, taking a road trip with someone, you forge a sort of bond, especially after a traumatic experience I’m sure.

  Or so I’d thought. I guess it truly was just his job. I hadn’t had a chance to tell him how much it meant to me, the way he had treated me on the drive to Seattle, his attempts to cheer me up, make me laugh. How nice he’d been. The thoughtfulness he’d shown me. Now I didn’t want to. He had it all wrong. He didn’t make me feel like I had in the life I’d lost. He took me to a new place, and made me feel things I had only ever wished for. The wildness I’d never had the nerve to seek out. He was sunshine and ocean breezes—wild and unbound, unrestrained, all things possible. When he held me it felt like there were no limitations in the world, like I could soar, do whatever I wanted. Whatever crazy thing I could dream up. How was that wrong? Was my life to now be only about work? This new job? Was there to be no room for anything else? Was this job to define me?

  “Gideon will be back this morning. He’s working on everything, trying to find answers…about last night, about...” he paused awkwardly, “he’s finding an apartment for you, until then I’ll stay with Nicklaus. You can stay here.”

  I knew I should say something, ask him not to go. Tell him how I felt. Yell at him for the seeming accusation of using him. But no words formed.

  He watched wordlessly as I zipped my boots on. Last night’s clothes would have to do. I retrieved my bag from the ottoman and strode to the door. All I seemed to do now was run away from situations, but it was all too sickening to stand around and listen to, or wait for.

  Action. I desperately needed to take action.

  “Iliana? You can’t just leave.” He stopped in front of me. Not quite meeting my eyes still.

  “I’ll find my own place. I’m still capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need a baby sitter. I’m not going to run off and disappear no matter how much I’d love to never see either of you again.”

  I caught his eye and that set all the words that were jumbled crazily in my head free.

  “I get that we’re just some sort of twisted co-workers, that you’re my watchdog. That I was just trying to forget and bury some pain, to get some sort of semblance of my life back, something, any bit of it. That I can’t have what I had as a mortal. That all of that is done, gone. That you did a job—well done—you kept me from jumping from the car in Oregon, maybe, not that I would have at that point, but whatever. You did one helluva bang-up job at delivering the ‘parcel’ to the bigger watchdog. Awesome work Liam.”

  I applauded him, gave him a derisive smile, and moved around him, and out the door. “Tell him he can text me if he wants anything.”

  Keeping my back to him, so he could not see the tears and doing my best to keep them from my voice, I kept moving towards the stairs.

  “Iliana!”

  I heard him roar as I raced down the stairs, the power in his voice pulled at me, made me want to go to him. I needed to be away, as far away as I could get from him…or I might find myself running to him, crashing into him, begging him to change his mind. I couldn’t do that.

  He’d made it all too clear what his stance was on the matter.

  ~ Chapter Nine ~

  So now what? That seemed to be my mantra lately. I sat on a park bench, thankfully it was a nice semi-sunny day, but even so, my thin sweater and leather coat were not being very cooperative with keeping out the serious October chill factor.

  It hadn’t taken me very long to walk the few miles to Green Lake Park, and for a short while I had amused myself by people watching. People walking their dogs. People jogging. People reading on park benches. People just being people. People having coffee and sitting on blankets near the water. Couples, holding hands and snuggling against the cold.

  Enough of that. No more watching. It was only making me sink down deeper into the darkness.

  Now I was staring down at my tablet, trying to figure out where to find an apartment. I didn’t want to stay at Liam’s, that would be torture even with him not there…it would still smell like him…feel like him. I didn’t want to sit on that couch. I didn’t want to see that chair, or the way the sun came in behind it.

  I’d found some places, they were out there, some rather nice ones I’d love to take, but how in my circumstance? No job, at least not one I could validate. How without even knowing who I was, beyond the small bits of new I.D. I carried in my bag? I didn’t have any references. Did I have a credit report? What if they ran a background check, did Iliana have one? I hated, really hated to admit that maybe I did indeed need Gideon, and whatever connections he had or tricks he pulled, to get this kind of stuff done.

  So, I gave up on the hunt for lodging for the time being, figuring I could stay in a hotel for a night or two. I didn’t have all of my money, but I had a pretty decent amount in my purse.

  That was the plan, but instead I spent an hour or so checking out my Facebook page, and a couple of links that people had posted featuring pictures and memories of me. Not the most productive manner in which to get anything done. It’s not as though it made me feel any better, to have read how missed I was, or to see those pictures of me posed with friends and having fun in that life; parties, concerts, vacations, holidays, so very many events and memories. So, in somberness, I closed down my tablet and duck watched instead, trying to gather my muddled thoughts and feelings.

  I had said to Liam that I could no longer have what I’d had as a mortal. A mortal? Was I not one anymore? Why had I used that word? Was there really such a thing as a non-mortal?

  My head was teeming with questions, that was nothing new, but it seemed like they just kept building, and I’d admit that I recalled very little of what Gideon had told me at the coffee house. That whole Ru-something was confusing. The only part I remembered was about the Cerberus, and that was only because it was the last thing I had discussed with Gideon the night before, just before getting so strangely woozy and losing consciousness. Oh, and about Liam being a Coimhdeacht, but I had already known that part.

  I had to figure out my next step.

  I should be more open to this, more open-minded, and maybe accepting of it all, the idea of it. I did after all write supernatural chick-lit novels. I’d been part of the vampire-gothic subculture, believed in ghosts, and angels, magic and the possibilities of other life forms aside from humans. So why when something so bizarre actually happened to me, and not to a character of my own fabrication in one of my books, was I so resistant to buy into it?

  I guess it all came down to death. My lead characters had never died—well, not in any manner such as I had at any rate. They still got to keep their friends and homes.

  Defeated. I felt utterly defeated—and somewhat abandoned by Liam. He was my first cont
act with this new world, this new life, and he was so…I don’t know…hesitant? Unavailable now that he had gotten me here to Gideon. So irresolute too, pulling me to him one minute and pushing away the next.

  I hated feeling like the victim, playing that part, feeling so pathetic. It was not in my personality make-up to be this way and it was making me nuts. I was used to being independent, on my own, being the problem solver. This was such messed up, unfamiliar ground to be mired in.

  But I guess as much as it annoyed the hell out of me, I really was the victim this time around. So if ever there was an appropriate time to play the role, now was it. I shouldn’t feel wrong or bad for suffering these emotions, I merely did not want to. I wanted a life. It was all so deeply frustrating. I was a girl of action. I made things transpire. I didn’t wait for someone else to fix things. But that is exactly what was happening. I was unable to manage it myself this time.

  Clouds were moving in at a fast pace, bringing along more darkness and chill. It was getting too cold to be out and I had no desire to be sitting on a park bench, getting soaked should those clouds decide to cut loose with the rain. I needed to find a hotel, a soft bed, a warm shower.

  Gideon sat down next to me. I think I felt him before I saw him. An electric tremor ran through me. How did they keep doing that? Liam had found me last night, after only being gone an hour, and now Gideon had found me after barely two.

  He looked annoyed. Of course he did.

  “I told Liam you could text me,” I stated simply.

  “You can’t keep running off,” He growled.

  “I didn’t run. I walked. And it’s not like I went far.”

  “Give me your phone.” He held out his hand.

  “I didn’t call anyone.” His hand remained palm up, waiting. I shook my head and did not look at him, but instead kept my eyes on the lake instead.

  “I’m not playing these games.” The serious tone forced me to respond; the sound of pushing him too far again.

  “So messed up,” I complained as I placed my phone in his hand.

  My fingertips brushed his palm as I laid the phone there. He flinched slightly. What was that about? He checked my call log—so rude—before reaching into the side pocket of his dark wool overcoat and pulling out an even better device.

  “Your new phone. You’ll need it for work and so I can keep in touch with you, give you your assignments…if it comes to that.”

  “What do you mean if? I asked as I dropped the new phone into my purse without a glance. I’d check it out later.

  “You keep bolting.”

  “Well, I know, but I’m here…it’s not as if I got on a train and took off for another state or something. I just needed space to think, to figure this out, to sort out all the feelings. The things I’m thinking and feeling, they don’t mesh at all.” I continued staring at the ducks in the water. “And if I don’t work for you, end up with…” my head swam. “I mean…” I paused, not sure what I was saying, just feeling an even deeper loss by his words. “What am I supposed to do?” I looked him in the eyes, my gods…those eyes. I remembered last night, the words I’d almost let escape from my tongue just before passing out and I felt myself begin to blush.

  He looked at the sky, scanning the increasing cloud cover. “Getting out of this weather would be a good start.” He stood, held out his hand to help me up. Or to make sure I came along with him? Whichever, I accepted. What girl wouldn’t have? He was much too handsome to refuse.

  “I don’t want to go back to Liam’s, I won’t. I’ll get a hotel, I have money,” I informed him obstinately.

  “Of course you do, you little thief.” He half smiled, tried to hide it. I don’t think he realized that I saw, his stern-face was back on. Hmmm…maybe he didn’t dislike me quite as much as I’d thought.

  “It was my money to take.”

  “It was not yours any longer…Iliana.”

  “I made that money, I earned it. Besides, it’s not as though I took any from my bank account.”

  “And I’m mildly shocked by that.”

  We stopped at a very familiar looking car. It was the one Liam had driven to take me from Long Beach. So, it must be Gideon’s. That made much more sense, it suited him better. Liam came across more of a Rover or Jeep kind of guy. This dark midnight blue Lexus was unmistakably Gideon’s style. Sleek, polished, elegant, luxurious. But fast with the possibility to be dangerous.

  He opened the passenger door for me, but I stood rooted. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  I shook my head, fervidly. “No. You know…surprises recently just haven’t worked out too well for me.”

  “You’ll like this one, I assure you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. I tapped my fingertips against the top of his car, studying his face for a moment, then turning my thoughtful gaze upwards to the surly sky, weighing my options, but very aware actually that I had none. I didn’t want him to necessarily know that’s how I felt. “Well, okay, but I’d better,” I kidded.

  Was I just flirting? I was flirting!

  Probably not such a good idea.

  It took less than five minutes to arrive at our destination back in Capitol Hill. It seemed like forever…and yet not long enough.

  The rain had started shortly after getting into the car. Being in such a confined space with Gideon made my heart pound. Again, this was so very unexpected. This was not like me. Not at all. To kiss one guy in the morning and by the afternoon be having heart palpitations over another one. So déjà vu. Sitting in a parked car in the rain. With a man that sent tremors up my spine—in a very good way. But somehow I knew that Gideon would never make Liam’s mistake.

  “Here we are,” announced Gideon, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked at him. I really needed to stop looking at his mouth, before he noticed.

  “Where is here?” I asked, looking out the window at a beautiful brick and stone Tudor style building with a gorgeous and expansive courtyard that wrapped from one side to the other surrounded by a brick and wrought iron fence.

  “Your new home,” he stated it simply, like it was no big deal. I looked over at him—his eyes, not his mouth.

  “Unless I don’t end up working for you, isn’t that more accurate? What then?”

  “We’ll deal with that when we know more. Until that time we assume that you do.”

  “You know what happens when people assume…?” I bit my lip, trying not to smile, lifted an eyebrow.

  “Funny. Another ‘ass’ remark.”

  Why did he make my heart feel…feel…light?

  He got out of the car, came around to my side, and let me out. Such a gentleman. He offered his hand again to help me out. I was momentarily tempted to refuse, as I had with Liam, so he would maybe reach in, put his arms around me and pull me out…as Liam had done. I remembered vaguely how Gideon’s arms had felt holding me the night before, when he’d caught me.

  For being such a hard-ass, I was noticing a gentleness to him. It was well hidden indeed, but I could sense it in him, in his ever-so-slight touch when he held my hand for just a heartbeat longer than needed.

  His hand was warm and strong, smooth, without calluses. And something else.

  The contact, the brief contact skin to skin, made my flesh hum. Before I had a chance to really scrutinize it any further than noticing it at all, and becoming more baffled, he pulled his hand away.

  I looked at his face. He looked thrown slightly. And then his mask dropped back into place. That serious, all-business look.

  “This way.” He gestured to the walkway that began at a lovely wrought iron gate and curved its way through the lushly adorned garden courtyard.

  “Really? How do I have an apartment here?” I asked, stunned.

  “Second floor.” He pointed to the right wing that stretched the entire length of the courtyard to the right with a view of the garden and the little park across the street.

  “You�
�re serious?” What was the catch? There had to be a catch.

  It was a gorgeous building, and it looked like I would be in a prime corner apartment.

  “Of course,” he answered, in a tone indicative of how he could never be anything other.

  He unlocked the large, heavy wooden main door and guided me in ahead of him, with his hand laid lightly on the small of my back. Yep, shivers up my spine with such minimal effort.

  The arched door opened onto a foyer. I was expecting mail boxes to be housed here, but Gideon told me that they were built into the round brick, gated guardhouse that we had passed on our way in the front gate.

  The floor was gleaming parquet. A runner ran up the center of the stairs leading to the second floor, held in place by an antique looking brass stair rod system. Our footsteps were quiet on the thick pile of the dark red carpet.

  At the end of the quiet hallway, was my new apartment door. Gideon handed me the keys, dropping them into my upturned hand. No contact.

  I loved new apartments. In fact, so much that I’d had five different ones in Long Beach over the years. Call me a commitment-phobe, but how does one settle for just one style of architecture when there are so many out there to choose from, in so many cool cities to explore?

  I had worked my way through every corner of the ‘good’ areas of Long Beach…well maybe not all. I’d never made it to Naples.

  I found it so exciting, the packing, the unpacking and rearranging of possessions, the decorating possibilities in a new abode.

  I loved to explore, what I called the discovery phase, stumbling upon all the quirky nuances of historical buildings. For instance, at my friend Katie’s place, she had discovered maintenance walk spaces between the walls…locked doors that lead to large maintenance man work spaces between the apartments. Kind of creepy, but kind of awesome-spooky too!