Pain.
She couldn’t do this. Not again.
She met his gaze as he uncoiled to stand, seeing more in that bottomless black depth than she wanted to acknowledge. She swallowed, focused on Tristan. “I’m calling the police now, Noble. I’ll take care of this. You can go home.”
His eyes appeared wounded as he took a step back. “Let me help you.”
“I’ll call you if I, if we, need you. Thank you.” She steadied her heart and pressed the door shut so he wouldn’t see the torrent of tears.
She would mourn later.
She sucked in a breath and dialed 9-1-1.
She just prayed it wasn’t too late.
Chapter 37
Noble was scared spitless like he’d never been in his life. He didn’t know what to do. He felt absolutely fucking helpless. He’d literally give his life for that kid, and Braelyn was shutting him out. What the hell was going on?
He paced the floor back home for over an hour and wondered how he could help. Where would Tristan have gone, and why would he have taken his bike? He’d break his fool neck! The thought was paralyzing. He could only imagine how Braelyn must feel.
And she wouldn’t let him comfort her.
“Damn it!” he bellowed and shoved everything off his bar in a showering rain of papers, artwork, and pens.
He was as useless as tits on a bull sitting there. He needed to go do something. He’d just have to go search for Tristan on his own. Trouble was, he had no idea where to start and it was fast approaching dark. As he pondered this, there was a knock at his door. He loped to answer, firing up a silent plea that it was Braelyn or Tristan.
That plea bounced right back and slammed him in the head as he opened the door. He seriously did not have the time nor the inclination for this bullshit right now. “What do you want, old man?”
His grandfather stared back at him with eyes that mirrored his in shape and color, except now they were ringed in yellow, like someone had taken a highlighter to them. And, if it was possible, he appeared more gaunt and weak than before. Especially when he sucked in a deep breath and leaned on the doorframe. But at least it appeared the church had hooked him up with some clean clothes and a haircut. “Baptiste. I must talk . . .” He paused for a pained breath. “. . . to you.”
“Can’t. Got some serious trouble going down right now.” He inched the door closed. “Maybe later.” But maybe not.
His grandfather put out a frail hand and pressed on the door. “No. It can’t wait.”
Noble sighed. Surely this quest for redemption could hold another day. “Then make it fast. I gotta go.” He leveled a disinterested glare and waited. It had better be real good to keep him from searching for Tristan for one minute longer.
“I’ve had another dream.” Another ragged breath. “Angels.”
Noble rolled his eyes. Enough. He moved to close the door without another word, but the old man kept talking and just before the door clicked shut, his last words stopped him cold.
“They told me about the lost boy.”
Noble eased the door open again, letting the silence swallow the squeak of the rusty hinges.
“What did you say?”
His grandfather blinked once. Twice. “And they told me where to find him.”
“You did what?” Michael asked, struggling to keep his voice down.
Ariel stared at him, her pale blue eyes wide with fear as she realized he wasn’t pleased with her ambitiousness.
He took her aside and tried to channel Gabriel’s stern but gentle voice. “Ariel, what were you thinking?”
She tugged on the hem of her frilly pink blouse and bit her lip. “Well, I’ve learned so much from you.” She gestured vaguely around the nearly empty Tabernacle lobby. “From everyone. I just wanted to put some of my own Love Detail skills to work to help out our match.”
Michael sighed heavily. When Gabriel caught wind of this, how much trouble would he be in? “And how was giving Noble’s grandfather a dream going to help our match?”
She grinned, obviously proud of herself. “Well, I’ve been praying. And Father put it on my heart that this match is doomed unless Noble releases the anger that’s blackening his heart. And Braelyn must learn to trust another man fully again.” She took a slight breath as her words tumbled upon each other. “And young Tristan, well, he has to finish grieving for his biological father and learn that he can have a deeper, more loving relationship with Noble. It’s all about the love, you see. And that is what we do.” She smiled as if that explained everything.
Michael shook his head, though he knew she was correct on all accounts. He wasn’t going to tell her that. Yet. “I still don’t see how giving Noble’s grandfather a dream fixes all that.”
She reached out and brushed his arm. “Silly. Grandpa helps them find the boy and the events will cascade together. You’ll see.” Her brow dipped momentarily as if she was suddenly unsure. “Well, I hope so.”
“Ariel, as honorable as your intentions are, we are on Love Detail. I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re not on Messaging or Prophecy. And you know how Father feels about our over-involvement in human free will. You’ve come dangerously close to crossing some serious lines here.” He waited while his words sank in. “Let’s just hope you haven’t done irreparable damage to our match.”
Chapter 38
Noble hopped on his Harley and took off into the first fat drops of a winter storm. He’d get where he was going a lot quicker this way than with his truck. And the cold wind and rain slashing through him like knives made getting to Tristan that much more urgent. The kid did not need to be out in this. He’d freeze to death.
He ignored the cop cars parked in front of Braelyn’s house and rode on. He was a man on a mission. If and when he found the boy safe and sound, he would let her know. No need to get her hopes up if his crazy old grandfather was full of it.
The roads were practically empty, either because of the holiday or the weather that had turned to an ice-cold shit storm. Either way, it was a good thing. He zipped out of their quiet neighborhood and onto the side roads to avoid the highway. Wind cold enough to freeze the air in his lungs sank into his bones. Chunky rain splattered against his face, soaked into his hair, swept into his eyes under his glasses. He impatiently swiped it away.
His discomfort didn’t matter. He hit the throttle and rode harder into the cold, tempting Mother Nature to try her best to deter him.
Finally, he made the last couple of turns into the old subdivision and the park came into view. His grandfather’s words came back loud and clear.
“He’s seeking answers where your bond first started. Find him there, and your bond will be forever unbroken.”
His bike’s tires ate up the pavement as he neared the park, hoping he’d interpreted the meaning behind a crazy old man’s dream correctly. Hell, hoping that there were such things as angels and dreams and happy endings.
The lot was empty. No bike.
“Oh, God, no, no, no,” he chanted as he pulled in, his engine rumbling in the dark, cold, drizzly night.
A movement to the right caught his eye. He squinted into the sleety night. Hoped like never before. A shadowy figure might’ve moved near the basketball court? He couldn’t be sure. He threw down his kickstand, cut his engine, and made a mad dash in that direction.
Sweet relief poured through him when he spotted his bike propped against a tree, mud covering its tires.
“Tristan!” he called.
He stopped short when he almost ran past the huddled figure curled up on the park bench. “Tristan?” He did an about-face and rushed to him. “Are you all right? Jezus, I was scared shitless.” He scanned his face for signs of injury, but only found chattering teeth and pure, unadulterated agony shining in his eyes.
And in that instant, a boulder rolled off Noble’s heart. He sucked in a quick breath and sank onto the bench to stare out into the endless black night, the icy rain plopping down onto him unheeded.
It wasn’t some wonderful, miraculous feel-good moment.
It might be what some call an epiphany. A lightning strike. Whatever. It hurt like hell. And it took a boy to show him the way.
He’d forgiven his grandfather.
Tristan waited, absolutely shocked that Noble had found him here. But sorta glad, too, cuz he was freezing his nads off. What a dumbass he’d been.
He glanced at Noble’s face, trying to gauge what level of pissed off the big guy was. “So, I guess I’m in big trouble. You gonna call the cops on me for stealing your bike?”
Noble peered at him, his dark eyes absolutely fierce, or maybe it was the growing storm and Tristan’s own fear. “That depends. Why’d you do it?”
He swallowed. “Joyride?” He didn’t want to sound like a pussy.
Noble eyed him for a moment then stood. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“But . . .”
“No buts. If you’re not going to tell me the truth then we’re done here. I thought we were friends.”
Tristan glanced down at his soaked jeans. His legs were too frozen to feel the cold anymore. Man, Ashley was gonna think he was an idiot. “I guess I figured you’d quit being my friend since I pulled a Grand Theft Auto on ya.”
Noble sighed. “Look. I have a lot of faults, impatience sometimes being one of them. But I am a pretty good friend. So spill it, kid, before we freeze to death out here.”
He glanced up. “My dad called.”
Noble quirked a brow, but waited patiently.
“He never calls. But he did today to tell me about my new baby brother that he named after himself.” He turned his tear-filled eyes down. “He doesn’t want me anymore, but he’s so proud of a stupid baby.” A stupid baby that can’t do anything. Can’t talk, can’t walk, can’t go with him to car shows or the movies. Nothing.
He sniffled and continued. “I guess I just got angry and had to get outta there. It was stupid to take your bike.” He looked up as a tear leaked out, but he hoped Noble would think it was the rain. “I’m sorry.”
Noble sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “Dude. And I thought my grandpa was a douchebag.”
Tristan huffed out a laugh. “I really am sorry. How can I make it up to you?”
Noble ruffled the wet hair plastered to his scalp. “Just don’t let it happen again, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Now let’s get you home. Your mom was about to have a coronary when I saw her last.”
“I’ll bet.”
He followed Noble back to his Harley. “What about that one?” he asked, indicating the smaller bike he’d hijacked.
“I’ll come back for it with my truck later.”
Chagrined for all the trouble he’d caused, Tristan climbed on back of Noble’s bike and mentally prepared himself for the royal butt-chewing he was about to receive. But, somehow, all he could summon was gratitude for Noble’s ready forgiveness.
As they zipped into the cold night, his anger with his father faded away. He had a mother who loved him and a . . . what?
Noble’s heat began to warm him through the leather jacket. Maybe Michael was right. A family is the one we make. Could they make one with Noble?
Chapter 39
Braelyn was still talking with the young police officer when the rumble of Noble’s motorcycle outside her window broke through the rainy night. The single headlight sliced through her dining room before cutting off. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? Her heart was fragile enough tonight.
She turned back to the officer who barely looked old enough to shave. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you had a recent photo of your son?”
“Oh. Yes, sure.” She moved to dig in her purse when the front door burst open. Tristan stood there, uncertain and shaking, Noble directly behind him like a dark messenger of doom.
“Oh, God! Tristan! Are you all right?” She rushed to him and collected him in her arms. He was as cold as a Popsicle and his teeth immediately began chattering. She eased back and studied him. “Where have you been?”
Tears began spilling down his cheeks as his body started shaking violently. “I’m sorry, Momma,” he mumbled, calling her the name of his boyhood.
Fresh tears of her own started as she squeezed him tight. “God, I was so worried.”
The officer stepped up behind her. “I’m assuming this is Tristan and you don’t need me here anymore?”
She afforded him a quick glance. “Yes. Thank you, officer. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
He shrugged his dark blue jacket back on, sidestepping them and a brooding Noble on his way outside. “Young man, you caused your mother a lot of worry. Don’t let it happen again.”
Tristan nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The officer’s radio buzzed with a static-laced voice as he stepped onto the walkway, glancing at Noble with obvious questions in his eyes.
You sure know how to pick ‘em, the ugly voice taunted her.
You sure know how to pick ‘em. She closed her eyes and squeezed Tristan tighter.
You sure know how to pick ‘em. It wouldn’t shut up!
“Wait!” she called.
The officer turned. She motioned for Tristan to go inside and wait a minute, then stepped out to talk to the policeman alone, purposely ignoring Noble’s hard stare. Wrapping her arms protectively across her chest against the cold, she wondered how to go about this.
But it had to be done.
“Ma’am?” The officer turned kind, gray eyes her way.
“Um . . .” She bit her lip. “I was wondering . . . if I possibly had information about a person”—she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Tristan and Noble couldn’t hear her, pitched her voice lower. The officer bent low to hear her—“who had a warrant for their arrest in another state, could I give that to you? If I felt he was dangerous?”
He studied her a moment. His face seemed to shift from impassive, as if he was about to blow her off, to serious. Something in her eyes must’ve resonated with him. “Dangerous?”
She nodded.
He glanced over her shoulder. “Let’s go sit in my car and you can give me the details. I can’t promise anything in another state, but I’ll do what I can to get the information to the right people.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
She followed him to his squad car and thawed a bit behind the heater. She peeked back toward her own front door. Noble had gone inside with Tristan. Damn. She wished he’d just go home. She wasn’t sure her heart could take another beating tonight.
The officer cleared his throat. “Tell me who we’re dealing with and why they’re dangerous.”
She took a deep breath, wiped her hands down her legs. “Julian Diaz-Esteban. And I believe if he’s not found, he’ll be coming for my son.”
After talking with the officer, Braelyn trudged back inside and found Noble standing in her living room with Tristan pacing like he was about to face the firing squad. She faced Noble first. “Where’d you find him?”
“The park where we played basketball.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded.
She turned back to her son. He’d stopped pacing and was staring at her wide-eyed. And miserable. “Why would you go there?”
He shrugged.
She had an idea after talking to Rory. The poor kid was so lost. She rubbed a hand up and down his icy arm. “Go get a shower. We’ll talk about it later.”
He hesitate
d, glancing at Noble with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. Something unspoken passed between them, then Tristan jogged down the hall.
Braelyn waited until she heard the bathroom door close and lock before turning back to Noble. “What do I owe you for the bike?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m sure he did some kind of damage.”
He studied her eyes. Stubbornness hardened his features. “Nothing.”
“Fine.” She intentionally softened her tone. “Thank you for finding him. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
“Prove it.”
She blinked. Surely he didn’t mean . . .
“Talk to me.”
Outside the window, the wind howled, but the sleet and rain had settled down. Behind her the shower kicked on and she could still smell chocolate chip muffins. Had that been just this morning?
“Well?” he prompted when she didn’t answer.
“Talk about what?” she finally croaked out.
“Me. You. Us.”
She took him in, from his rain-soaked ponytail, to eyes as black as the starless night sky, then deeper to the man she knew was underneath. The man who could make her laugh with his dry-as-toast humor. The man full of such quiet spirituality. His sense of honor. His everything.
He’d quickly become way too much to her.
She couldn’t do this again.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. There is no ‘us’ to talk about. I need you to go home. Goodnight, Noble.”
Michael waited with Ariel in the Old Tabernacle lobby for Gabriel. It seemed to be taking forever while their leader conferred with the senior brotherhood as to any possible punishment for her over-involved Prophetic behavior that was not ordained by Father. He’d had to report it, though he felt horrible about it. He just wondered what his possible punishment might be since she was his intern and his responsibility.
The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) Page 29