She hated crowds.
If she was with a small group of friends, she could interpret all the conflicting and colliding energies, but in a place like this it could be overwhelming. Jamie, who understood, rubbed her back, urging her forward.
They’d gone straight to the house from the ferry dock to find a note taped to the sign-in board. “Gone Drinkin’.” So they’d staked their claims on bedrooms and headed over to Darby’s. There was no question where everyone had gone. There was only one bar on the island.
Kaitlin saw her friends seated at a large table on the restaurant side. Kristi and her sister Bella, along with Cam and Holt. She waved. As they made their way through the crowd, Kaitlin’s steps stalled when she saw Holt’s arm around Bella’s shoulders. She glanced at Jamie. “I thought you said it was Cam and Kristi,” she murmured.
Jamie shrugged.
Apparently a lot had happened recently. “Sheesh,” she said in an undertone. “Miss a couple weekends…” And Jamie laughed.
They all settled in and exchanged pleasantries but nobody mentioned the two bona fide couples that had suddenly erupted in a group of longtime friends. The shift in energy was obvious to Kaitlin. With Cam and Kristi it was a calm, comfortable swirl. But the patterns around Bella and Holt bubbled with tension.
Sexual tension.
Kaitlin nibbled her lip and pretended to study the menu—though she could have recited it blindfolded. Sometimes it was awkward, knowing things. Seeing things. Things that were none of her business. Like the fact that Holt was hard. And that Bella was thinking about luring him into the bathroom for a blowjob—
Yeah, sometimes she wished her gift had an off switch.
The heat those two were giving off made her restless.
It was a relief when the waitress, Charmaine, brought their water. Kaitlin drank hers down immediately.
A ruckus erupted on the other side of the restaurant as a bar patron tipped his chair too far back and fell to the ground. Raucous laughter rang out. Kaitlin froze as she recognized the creep from the ferry. He stood and brushed himself off and shot a dark look around the room. Their gazes clashed. Something that felt like panic writhed in her soul.
Stay away from him! Her instincts shouted. Danger. Danger.
And then some force drew her attention away, to the left, and she saw him. Parker. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. Sure, it was a small island, and this was the only restaurant. But for some reason, she just hadn’t expected it. Her heart thundered. Her vision blurred. Another premonition whipped through her, but too powerful and too quick to grasp. It left her breathless. “Jesus,” she whispered.
Tara curled her nose. “Who are those guys?” she asked.
Holt glanced over his shoulder. “Ash Bristol.”
“He has a place next to ours,” Cam added.
Kristi nibbled her lip. “They look familiar.”
Cam took a sip of his beer. “They went to the U-Dub. Ash is a friend of Lane’s. I think the guy with the short hair is Parker…”
“Rieth.” Kaitlin said when Cam struggled for the name.
“I don’t know the guy in the ascot,” Cam added. Everyone snorted. Because he was wearing an ascot. And who wore an ascot? “But the other guy is Devlin Fox.”
Next to her, Tara stiffened. The halo around her fizzled and snapped. “That’s Devlin Fox?” she spat.
All heads swung in her direction.
Kaitlin focused in on Tara’s colors. Warning bells clanged.
“You know him?” Bella asked.
Tara glared around the table. “He writes a Foodie Blog. He gave Stud Muffin a bad review.”
A chorus of dissention rose. “Why did he do that?”
“Because I don’t have gluten free.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the table across the room. Her annoyance crackled. And then she muttered under her breath, “Baby.”
Because she was watching, Kaitlin saw it. A dark slither of bitterness curled from Tara’s heart chakra and wrapped around her. It bloomed and spiraled out, toward Devlin. “What are you thinking?” she asked in a whisper.
Tara froze and shot her a frown. Then she forced a smile. “Nothing.” She made it a point to bat her lashes.
A lie. A big fat lie. But Kaitlin didn’t say anything. There was no point in calling her out. She needed to keep her eye on Tara this weekend though. The premonition she’d had earlier still clung to her. Her attention skipped from Tara to Jamie and Emily.
Good gravy, it was annoying, only getting part of the picture. What was the point of a warning if the stupid universe didn’t tell you what the warning was about?
Her gaze was drawn back to the men’s table. It stalled on Parker and something rippled up her spine. Discomfort rose, clogging her throat, nearly choking her with dread. Fire. Flames. Burning flesh.
Oh yes. She was going to have to be on her guard this weekend, if she was going to keep her friends from disaster—whatever that disaster was.
Kaitlin felt Tara’s energy seethe as she stared at Devlin, muttering under her breath.
It would help if they would cooperate.
After the ferry docked Parker and Richie hopped in Devlin’s car, drove over to Ash’s place and dumped their stuff. Parker was glad it wasn’t far because they’d all been drinking. So he suggested they walk to the bar where their friend was waiting for them.
Ash greeted them with a wave and a grin.
Damn, it was good to see him. Despite the cavernous differences in their upbringings, Ash Bristol was his best friend, practically a brother. When Parker had been all alone in the world, Ash’s family had embraced him, given him roots. Given him hope. They’d shown him the world wasn’t a huge, hostile place.
He had no idea where he’d be, if not for the Bristols.
Dead in a gutter, probably. With a needle in his arm.
Parker slid into his seat. When he nearly missed it and almost landed on the floor, he decided it was time to back off on the whiskey and get some food in his belly. Yeah. They’d probably all started drinking too early. Richie was listing to the side.
After they gave their orders to the spunky waitress, he turned to Ash. “So, how’s everything going?”
Ash shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Going good. How about you? Heard anything about the promotion?” They hadn’t seen each other in a while—life got so busy and all—but they kept in touch via email and text. It was nice to be able to spend some time together.
Parker blew out a sigh. “Not yet. Still up in the air.”
“Shit, Parker. If you don’t get it, it may be time to think about jumping ship.”
He held back his cringe, but barely. His job, this firm, was everything. His whole life. It was his anchor, his something. Something that made him…somebody. The thought of walking away gave him chills. The thought of Nate getting the primo corner office gave him the chills too.
It was a relief when Ash turned to Devlin, asking him about his blog. Because Devlin could talk forever about his blog, releasing Parker from Ash’s scrutiny and the need to chat.
Not that small talk didn’t have its place, but the headache that had been prowling after him all day was sinking in sharp claws and the whiskey did nothing but make his brain fuzzy. His neurologist had given him pills to take, to quiet his nerves, so the pain wouldn’t get too bad, but he hated the pills. He’d rather deal with the pain, when it came, than be muddled all the time.
He couldn’t afford muddled.
But the whiskey had muddled his brain too. Must have. His thoughts kept circling around to that woman, the one from the ferry. Something about her—her elfin features, her tight curves, her wide emerald eyes—something had snagged him by the balls and wouldn’t let go.
Just thinking about her, here and now in the crowded bar, and his cock stirred.
That was probably why it pole axed him when the front door opened and she walked in, as though he’d conjured her with his roiling fantasies. “Oh s
hit. There she fucking is,” he breathed. He didn’t mean to say it aloud. The words escaped of their own accord.
Richie glanced at the group of women who had just arrived. “Damn,” he muttered. “She is fine. I talked to her on the ferry.” He shot a cocky look around the table. “She wants me. She is so fucking hot. I do dig a redhead.”
Parker glared at him. Wanted to rip out his throat.
He’d talked to her.
Something that felt like jealousy snarled in his gut. The ache in his neck pinged. He rubbed it, though it didn’t help.
“Okay. Yeah. I could fuck that,” Devlin said.
Parker’s heated gaze swung to the left. Bile rose in his throat. The urge to pummel Devlin’s handsome face into mush possessed him.
“The redhead?” Ash asked.
“No. The hottie with the ponytail.”
Parker relaxed. Why he relaxed, he didn’t know. Didn’t know why he’d gone all tense either. He had no claim on her, the redhead. No claim at all. And he didn’t want one.
“I could so yank on that.” Richie wiped his lip on his sleeve.
A scuffle ensued between Richie and Devlin over who got to claim the woman neither of them had met. The conversation continued, a low drone in Parker’s head, but he wasn’t listening. His attention was snared. On her. The angle of her head. That hint of a smile. The flutter of her hand.
He really shouldn’t have had so much to drink.
When the redhead and her friends finished eating and left the bar, a little bit of light went out of the room.
Which was stupid.
She was just a woman.
Not some kind of angel.
Although, she did look like one—
Yeah. He scuttled that thought too.
After they ate, Ash went back to the house, but the others didn’t feel like leaving and stayed at the bar. It was still early evening. No reason to break it up just yet. Although Parker did worry a bit about Richie, who was roaring drunk.
He didn’t worry about Richie being roaring drunk as much as he worried about the prospect of having to drag him back home later. Of course, if he collapsed on the floor of the bar, they could probably just let him sleep it off there.
Devlin suggested a game of pool, and they co-opted a table near the back and set up a game. It quickly became clear Richie was in no condition to wield a cue—in fact, he was dangerous with one—so they sat him at the table with a pitcher and played amongst themselves.
Parker missed his shot when the door swung open and she walked back in. He only caught a glimpse of her, out of the corner of his eye, but that was enough. His attention on the game evaporated.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed her. Male heads turned as she and her friend—the one with the long ponytail—made their way to the bar. His pulse kicked up a notch. Acid curled in his belly as a couple of peckerwoods made their way toward them.
Why he felt protective, possessive, of her, he didn’t know.
She was just a chick.
A beautiful chick, one whose every movement was like a lyrical poem. One whose face and form made him weak at the knees.
Shit. He focused on the table, though it wasn’t his shot, and attempted to thrust her from his mind.
He was far from a monk, but he was careful with women. He had to be. For one thing, in his business, he’d learned they were all pretty shady. And for another—his experience with that species had not been awesome. Oh, it always started out great…until they learned the truth about him.
He’d never forget the look on Chandra’s face when—
He pushed the memory away. It was pointless to dwell on things one could not change. It was pointless to think about this woman too. A woman like that would get a glimpse of his scars and run for the hills.
Devlin whistled as he chalked his cue. “She’s back. Damn, that is a fine piece of ass.” Parker was annoyed, until he realized Dev was referring to the brunette with the ponytail. “Maybe we should go rescue them.” Because the two women were now surrounded by a herd of salivating lotharios. They should have known better than to come to the bar alone on a Friday night. They should have known they’d be deluged by hot and horny guys.
But, it appeared, these princesses didn’t need rescuing. They extricated themselves from the throng and, with a pitcher in hand, made their way to an empty table.
Determinedly, Parker forced his focus back to the game.
For some reason, despite his resolve, it kept drifting back to a minxish redhead with a dazzling smile.
The one who wasn’t for him.
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
As they made their way to the empty table, Kaitlin’s pulse pounded. She’d come back to the bar with Tara for two reasons. First of all, she didn’t want Tara to come alone. And also, she had hoped he would still be here.
For some reason, she wanted, very badly to see him again.
And he was. He was over there, in the back, playing pool with Devlin. She took a sip of her beer and studied the crowd, doggedly keeping her gaze off Parker. It took some effort. Her attention kept drifting back to him. There was nothing else in the bar as interesting as his long, lean form, his chiseled face, or the vision of his arms bunching as he sighted a shot.
Now that she was over the shock of seeing him again, now that she’d had a little time to process it, she could appreciate the beauty of his aura. Oh, everyone had a beautiful aura. Well, most people. But there was something about his that kept snagging her eye. The bright shimmering lights, the eddy of muted colors, some enigmatic sparkle. It was like staring at diamonds. Or the light when it hit the water on a sunny day. Or a perfect sunrise in a clear sky.
She could stare at him all night.
But she didn’t.
She tried not to, at least.
Tara sent her a wicked grin as she refilled her glass. Her colors took on a smoky hue. Kaitlin nibbled her lip as trepidation skirled through her. She wasn’t stupid. Though Tara had cheerily suggested they return to the bar for a drink, Kaitlin knew the truth. She knew why her friend had been so adamant about coming back. She had revenge on her mind. It was plastered all over her like a neon sign.
Kaitlin sighed. “Don’t do it, Tara.”
Thick lashes fluttered. “Don’t do what?”
“You know what I mean.”
Tara did know. But her truculent expression made it clear. Nothing Kaitlin said or did would change her mind.
Typical.
Though foreboding thrummed in her veins, she knew she couldn’t force Tara to give up her plans of revenge—whatever they were. All she could do was be here to pick up the pieces and protect her friend from trouble where she could.
The two men had finished their game of pool and were threading back to their table. Parker took his seat and poured himself another beer as Devlin headed back to the bar.
Poor guy.
He had no idea what was coming.
The vibe Devlin exuded was nice, comfortable, pleasant. She hoped he was a forgiving sort, because Tara’s energy—not so pleasant. Indeed, it flared as she sprang to her feet and said, in a too-cheerful voice, “I’ll be right back.”
“Tara…”
She stopped and shot a look over her shoulder. One that made Kaitlin wince.
“Just…be good.” It was all she could ask.
Tara’s grin was fiendish. “Oh, I will be,” she purred.
Kaitlin drew in a deep breath and sent a protective cloak to both Tara and Devlin as her friend sidled up next to him at the bar. The message she got back from the universe stunned her. Amusement, and warmth, rose up in her. Her lips curled.
The next time she glanced up, both Tara and Devlin were gone. Kaitlin sipped her beer as she waited for her friend to return. She didn’t drink much as a rule—it blinded her to the insights she relied on, and beer was far from her favorite thing to sip. But it was Friday. And she was on a mini vacation from her life. And she was in a bar.
&
nbsp; She checked her watch and frowned when Tara didn’t return after a while.
She didn’t like being all alone in a room crowded with men. All kinds of sexual innuendoes and predatory energies assaulted her. It brought back bad memories. She did what she always did. Stiffened her spine and surrounded herself with her psychic bands, repelling attention. If that didn’t work, a cold, dismissive stare did.
Aside from all that, there was no one to talk to, nothing to take her mind off her worries.
For one thing, she was deeply concerned for her new client, Susan. Susan and her daughter Lily had come into the shelter, covered with bruises—both of them—begging for a safe place to stay. With one touch, Kaitlin had seen it all. She shuddered as the vestigial trails of the memory lashed her.
Poor Susan. She’d known a life of abundance and happiness. Never had to deal with the darker side of the world. And then she’d married Brace. The man of her dreams. It hadn’t taken long for him to become the creature of her nightmares.
The abuse from her husband, a man who had vowed to honor and protect her, had deeply scored her soul. And the horror her little girl had suffered at his hands—as the little mite had assumed the weight of his fury when Susan was too beaten to fight back—had wounded her even more.
Kaitlin had taken her pain, spiritual and physical, as much as she could stand. But Susan’s well ran deep. It would be a long time, a lot of suffering for all of them, before she could be whole again.
But at least Susan and her daughter had found Boudicca, a well-hidden network of shelters for battered women. They’d be safe there.
A tingling snaked up Kaitlin’s spine and she glanced up. Her gaze snagged with that of the Ascot Man, the guy from the ferry who had cornered her in the hall. Though he was here with Devlin and Parker, he stood apart from them, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, ogling her. His hue was bright red, like fire, with flecks of white. She sent him a cold, dismissive stare. It didn’t work. Deliberately, she turned away, scanning the crowd.
Where was Tara? She should have returned by now.
Parker's Passion Page 2