by Jane Cousins
Turning slowly, she faced Matias. He was walking towards her fast. Hair in a tangled mess of chocolate brown curls. The dark stubble adorning his jawline making him look like a sexy outlaw, wanted by women everywhere. Those rich toffee colour eyes gleaming with intensity.
“Is everything alright?” Her voice sounded cool and modulated, go her. “Is it Copper?”
“Copper’s still out for the count. Where are you going?”
“Home.”
He continued to stare at her, seeing perhaps more than she would have liked. “So that’s it then? No goodbye? No, see you around? You were just going to walk away and cut the cord, just like that?”
“Yes.” He deserved the truth.
“Why? Copper’s back. I think I might have my memories back. And if I’m fixed then you and I could-”
“There is no you and I, remember? We agreed.”
“That was before. Before there was a possibility of us having a future together.”
Quinn shook her head. “That possibility was never on the table.”
Matias blinked, startled. “Never? Wow, you don’t pull any punches do you, Doctor Bennett? So you were just using me for sex?”
“No more than you were using me.” Quinn replied. “Short and sweet, no holds barred, hot, mega-intense sex. Those were your exact words I believe. We agreed. You delivered. Effectively we are done.”
“Things have changed.” Matias wanted to shake her. But Quinn looked too pale, too brittle already.
“For you maybe, not for me.” She was still walking the cuckoo crazy fine line. Any day, any moment her psyche might crumble and she could fall. Babbling. Screaming. Insane. Incurable. Good for nothing but keeping the manufacturer of strait-jackets in business.
No, she couldn’t do that to him. Not when he’d already spent the past decade in a prison thanks to his own memories, or lack of them. She wasn’t going to saddle him with her problems too. “Look, you need to go live your life. Follow all those dreams that have been on hold for ten years.”
“Fuck that, those dreams belong to a time when I was little more than a know nothing kid. I’m a man now. What I want. Who I want in my life, those priorities have changed.”
“Then change them back. Matias, you can’t deny who you are, you said it yourself, chasing long lost treasure is in your blood. You won’t want to stay here. Before too long you’ll feel trapped, hemmed in.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Okay, then.” Quinn exhaled raggedly, this was going to hurt. “I’ll be the one who will feel trapped and hemmed in. We agreed, agreed that whatever happened between us would be short and sweet. And it was. But now it’s over.”
“Quinn.”
“No. Talking is pointless. I won’t change my mind. Matias, please, just walk away. Go see your sister, live your life. You can do anything you want with it now.” Quinn turned and hurriedly moved towards the Transportal door.
Matias watched her slip away, fighting the urge to stop her. Fuck, from the moment he’d walked into her life he’d turned it upside down. Double fuck, he still couldn’t even remember the first moment they’d met.
All he knew was that Quinn had stepped up when he desperately needed her, been brave and bold. Travelling back in time to that day on the Merry Maverick because of him. Volunteering to face danger a second time, hoping to save his parents and find Copper and no doubt saving his sorry ass along the way.
Then to compound things, he’d dragged her back through time again, to over five hundred years into the past. Where she was captured, held hostage and almost killed by a power hungry High Priest whose favourite hobby was human sacrifice.
He’d brought nothing but mayhem and trouble into Quinn’s life. Could he blame her for walking away? No. Did that mean he was just going to let her go? Hell, no.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Seven days later.
Quinn exhaled slowly and lifted her arms to the just risen sun. Breathing in, she bent over, placing her palms flat on the ground, breathing out slowly, releasing the tension in her shoulders and neck. Breathe in. Counting to twenty she slowly stood up, exhaling as she did so.
The air was a little cool this morning, but hopefully it would help to wake her up after yet another night spent tossing and turning. Grrr, she was back on schedule. Her appointment book was full. Patient sessions booked back to back from nine until late. Yoga in the morning. Running at lunch time. Weights and Pilates after work. No carbs. No fat. Definitely no sugar.
She was back in control of her life, so why couldn’t she sleep?
Why couldn’t she stop thinking about Matias? Wondering if he’d left town yet? Wondering where would he go first? Probably to buy a boat and hire a crew. A bunch of big breasted, bikini-wearing, seafaring nymphos no doubt.
And those thoughts were not helping her appreciate the world or relax. Quinn dropped low and leant as far as she could to the right. She bet they’d all be tanned, with legs up to their armpits. With names like Amber, Lola and Ruby. Grrr, really not helping. Breathe. Clear your thoughts. Clear your bloody thoughts for Heaven’s sake… Quinn froze abruptly, the hairs lifting along the back of her neck.
A primal feeling washed over her. She was prey, vulnerable, exposed, being hunted… stalked by death. Slowly, ever so slowly she straightened and turned… Darcy. Bloody Hell, her cousin Darcy was standing a few feet away, checking her lipstick in the shiny flat surface of a wickedly sharp knife. Her black bobbed – Louise Brooks – styled hair gleamed, the ends teasing those high cheekbones.
Darcy was wearing a tight, short-sleeved, tangerine coloured sweater, combined with a micro mini pleated white tartan skirt with large tangerine checks and lines running through it. A lot of thigh was on display, amazing, given her cousin was wearing pull up tangerine and white striped coloured stockings and thigh high white patent leather boots.
“You’re dressed up.”
Darcy slipped the knife away. “Funeral.”
“Of course. Nothing says funeral like white and tangerine.”
“Funerals are annoying and a complete waste of time, but I have to go in my role as Liaison. You mess with the Sanctuary, we bring the pain, or in this instance, the death. I get to attend as a pointed reminder. Dressing inappropriately just reinforces the message of how little their loss matters compared to the safety of the Sanctuary.”
“Obviously.” Why fight it? Quinn knew Darcy was a losing battle. Scooping up her towel and patting dry her forehead. “Something I can help you with?”
“I did something.”
Quinn found herself automatically looking around for a dead body or a pool of blood, nothing. “You’re going to have to narrow that down for me?”
Darcy shrugged, re-adjusting the pleats of her skirt.
If Quinn didn’t know better, she would have sworn that her cousin almost looked embarrassed.
“I… it’s nothing.” Bloody Hell, Darcy had come here this morning to spill her guts regarding what she’d done for Eli and Rafe… the… go on, just admit it… the match making she’d done. So shameful. So low… and yet, she couldn’t deny the weird thrill that had zapped through her as a result.
Darcy had spent the past few weeks desperately trying to convince herself that stepping in, aiding Eli, by lying to her, proved nothing more than how much she loved to manipulate others. It did not signal that she was turning over a new leaf. It certainly didn’t mean she approved or supported any match making machinations. And yet… it nagged at her.
Quinn blinked, Darcy hesitating? This was a woman who too often stabbed first and asked questions later. “You want some breakfast? Something to drink?” She headed towards the double doors leading into the kitchen, sensing Darcy close on her heels. Opening the fridge, Quinn studied the contents. Glancing back, she noted Darcy had parked her tight butt on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.
“Nothing to eat. I don’t suppose you have anything to drink that involves caffeine, sugar, or that taste
s good? What am I saying? Just give me water.”
Quinn ignored her, grabbing a few items. Lifting the lid on the blender she dumped in some chopped pineapple, some mango slices, a bowl of raspberries and two bananas, followed by a large tub of vanilla yoghurt. Lastly she added some ice and hit the blend button.
Darcy eyed the dark pink fruity concoction that Quinn placed in front of her with real surprise. It looked positively decadent. And so unlike Quinn. All her internal alarm bells started to clang. Quinn’s pale complexion, the dark circles under her cousin’s eyes. How fragile and weary she looked.
No fricking way. That haunted look on Quinn’s face, it was almost an exact copy of the look Eli had had on her face. Before Darcy had interfered, lying, inferring that Rafe might be in trouble, dying. Crap, she’d lay someone else’s life down and swear that Quinn was having man troubles.
But so what if she was? It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like Darcy intended to do or say anything to help or hinder Quinn in her time of need.
Except Quinn looked so fucking… lost. Which annoyed Darcy. But it also plucked infinitesimally on one of her cold as ice heart strings. Which annoyed her even more.
Sweet Lady, where the hell was Great-Aunt Alma, the family match maker, when you actually needed her? Slacker. Did she think being on the High Council and approving the Yanez brothers bid for the old Fire Station and signing off on the renovations for the Five Alarm Bar was enough? That her job was done?
Darcy should up and leave, now. She was so not getting involved. No. That would look suspicious. She would sit here and finish her smoothie first. “So, how’s work?” Darcy couldn’t think of a more perfect, bland, innocuous topic to pursue than her cousin’s boring job. Seriously, sitting around chatting all day? Tedious.
“Busy. And no, I won’t give you any details.”
Darcy decided not to share with Quinn how easy it was to hack into her files. Hmm, maybe she was maturing, that couldn’t be a good sign.
“How about you? Tracking any big bad in particular at the moment?”
“Only thing new is that feral, wannabe Goddess. You should hear all the complaints, and it’s not just the Gardening Club up in arms because she’s stealing rare plants and herbs. Lucky for me she’s considered a resident so is technically Elijah’s problem to solve.”
“Are you talking about Copper? Copper Yanez? What happened? Last I heard she was in the hospital.”
Darcy grinned. “She woke up, pissed. Surprised Elijah with an uppercut, knocked him clean out, pay back as I understand it, then she high tailed it out the window.”
“She’s missing?” Poor Matias and Nico.
“Elijah wishes she was missing. She’s set up a bolt hole somewhere on his property and decided to make his life a living hell. Laying traps. Shredding any piece of clothing he hangs on the clothesline. And she’s not just raiding gardens, she’s been seen lurking about town too. I think she might be testing the security on my offices.”
“Is the hollowed blade in your vault?”
“Yes. Matias Yanez handed it over a few days ago. Do you think Copper wants the blade?”
“Maybe, or she’s just checking to ensure it is safe.”
“Hmm, well it will take a lot more than her woodland skills to get through my security.”
“So you saw Matias?” Quinn’s cheeks blazed with heat. She could not believe she had just asked that asinine question like some teenager with a crush.
“Obviously.” Darcy was determined to cut off this line of questioning. She was so not going down the match making road again.
“And… he seemed well?”
Damn it. “Is there something going on between you and Matias?”
“No!”
“Okay, I may not have a truck load of fancy degrees but all I can say is… liar, liar, I’m seriously thinking of grabbing my blow torch and setting your pants on fire.”
“Alright, yes. There was something, fleeting… brief. But now it’s over, finished.”
“See, that’s all you had to say. You had a bout of ho-hum sex. Things didn’t work out. You are moving on.”
“It wasn’t ho-hum. It was far from ho-hum.”
“Don’t need to hear the details, thank you very much.” Damn, why couldn’t she resist hitting Quinn’s buttons? “But it’s not like you with your hot and heavy dating schedule have much to compare it to.”
“My dating schedule is very well organised. Full of interesting, like-minded, professional men.”
“If they are such a good match for you, why do rarely embark on a second date? And why are you sitting home alone, not sleeping, not eating?” Darcy looked pointedly at Quinn’s untouched fruit drink. “Asking me how Matias Yanez is, if your so called brief fling is really and truly over?”
“It’s complicated.” Quinn heaved out a sigh.
Darcy’s clear icy blue eyes narrowed. “It will only take me a minute to grab that blow torch you know.”
“I don’t want to talk about him… it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Darcy remained silent, just staring at Quinn, thinking about whether to place an order for some extra-large sized handcuffs, so many of her enemies were on the enormous side, it might be prudent.
“Okay, okay, just stop looking at me like that.”
Darcy blinked slowly, what were they talking about? Oh, Quinn and her man troubles. Still?
Darcy tried to pay attention. She truly did. Time travel. Hybrid Jaguars… one on the loose, that had potential for some fun. A power hungry High Priest mixed up with a God to end the world, oh, but he was dead… yawn, boring.
The memory reset issue was at least interesting. Perhaps there was a potion or something she could get one of the Great-Greats to mix up and effectively weaponise it. But how could she deliver it, injection? Slip it into someone’s food or drink? Coat the tip of an umbrella, like in one of those James Bond films?
“Hold on.” Darcy frowned as Quinn finally came to a halt. Pretty much all the information had blurred together, blah, blah, blah - but that last part, that had really caught Darcy’s attention. “What’s wrong with your Great-Aunt Pearl and Great-Great-Aunt Deliah?”
“They both display signs of being dissociative, with fracturing personalities. They suffer from auditory hallucinations. Deliah, in particular, is a text book case of haphephobia… fear of being touched or touching others. Pearl had more imaginary friends than she did real ones before she disappeared. Being a Seer, it’s a one-way ticket to a padded room and a lifetime supply of plastic cutlery.”
“All I’m hearing is a lot of textbook claptrap. Your relatives are no less eccentric than any other member of the family nut tree we share.”
Quinn shook her head. “Don’t you remember Elliott, Deliah’s husband, always hovering over her? Watching her? Scared she’d just wander away when she experienced one of her fugues. She was having memory breaks. Having trouble recognising him, and the rest of the family. That’s why they moved into the retirement village five years ago, so she could have closer supervision.”
“That’s not why they moved into the village.”
“What? No, Elliott was clearly out of his depth when it came to caring for her.”
“It was Deliah’s idea to move. I’m assuming you haven’t been by to visit them?”
Quinn squirmed, not wanting to admit to her own cowardice. She’d even taken to avoiding Deliah and Elliott at family gatherings, not wanting to witness just how far Deliah’s condition had disintegrated and fractured. “Work’s been so busy.” That sounded lame even to her own ears.
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Classic avoidance, Doctor heal thyself, you idiot. Deliah is thriving at the retirement village, never been happier and is considered a real asset there. According to my sources, every morning she visits the remaining Great-Great-Greats and bolsters their memories.”
Huh. Great-Great-Aunt Deliah was thriving? Using her powers? No longer afraid to touch others? Healthy? Sane? “Well, that�
��s excellent news. But what about Great-Aunt Pearl? She just up and disappeared one day, she’s probably wandering the streets with a dozen cats and a shopping cart full of rocks individually named.”
“Pearl isn’t missing.”
“You know where she is?”
“Duh, of course. She’s family. I’ve always known. She’s been living in London for the last few years. She works with returned soldiers, as an art teacher. Helping them remember. Helping them to face their fears. I know for a fact she’s dating a lovely History Professor.”
Pearl was dating? Working? The woman who used to wander around the garden pulling at her hair and talking to invisible people? “I had no idea.” Relief swamped Quinn. Her relatives weren’t insane? Or no more so than any other relative on the family tree.
“Because you didn’t want to know or because you were afraid to ask?”
“I was afraid, okay.” Admitting it out loud was a good first step. Quinn felt a burden lift from her shoulders.
“What’s going on, Quinn? And no prevaricating by answering my question with a question. Just tell me straight.”
“From the moment my powers first appeared I’ve been worried I’ll turn out like Pearl and Deliah, insane. Talking to people who aren’t there. Laughing at nothing. Sobbing for no apparent reason. Getting… lost. Afraid that I’ll disappear into a memory and won’t be able to fight my way free.”
“Being a clinically diagnosed sociopath with well-intentioned homicidal tendencies, I don’t use this word lightly, but what the hey, Quinn, you’re crazy.”
“Thanks. That’s not helpful.”
“No, you numpty. I mean you are crazy. Which just makes you completely and utterly normal around here.”
“I think your baseline level of what you consider sane is skewed.”
“Please. Sane, insane, what the hell does it matter around here, as long as you’re happy? We have a Great-Uncle who won’t keep his clothes on. A second cousin who insists upon magically modifying animals for supposed military purposes. Cousins who can fart and belch fire. Potion makers who swear that following a recipe is only for novices. And absolutely everybody insists, upon a daily basis, in interfering in everyone else’s lives. You and your OCD ways barely make a ripple.”