by Amy Cook
“Got a mess over on Adlerton Street.” He did a quick body count. There was more than he thought. “Looks like fourteen.” He hung up, feeling the full gravity of what had just happened. This girl had dangerous secrets, and he was getting tired of being in the dark. A scrapping sound drew his attention to see Amiel rolling over, struggling to sit up. He stayed where he was in the shadows, watching. She shook her head, disoriented, pressing one hand to her head. Pushing up to her knees she stared at the pile of Rabids around her. Her breathing picked up audibly as she fell on her butt, scuttling backward away from the carnage.
“No, no, not again!” she muttered. Then she scrambled to her feet. “My bike!” She rushed to where it lay, still idling on its side. “Oh no, no. What have I done? Harley’s beautiful work,” she said mournfully, struggling under the weight of it as she pushed it upright. Shutting off the engine and kicking the stand, she fell to her knees, running her hands over the body of the bike, inspecting it for injuries. Checking it for injuries before she even checks herself. Cajun shook his head. Motorcycle lovers. He’d never understand them.
“I’d be more worried about what Harley would think of what you just did than what he will think of your paint job,” he called out, finally announcing his presence. She spun around, stumbling slightly on her own feet. His eyes narrowed, watching her clumsy display. He searched her for artifice, but his instincts found none. He did however, find guilt.
“Who are you?” She paused, then her eyes widened. “Cajun! You were…” She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a hand to her forehead. “You were there? Driving with me?” He nodded, remaining silent, face unmoving. She flinched slightly, looking abashed. “You saw everything.” He nodded again.
“I can’t remember.”
“But you know what you did,” he accused, refusing to go light on her. He was done waiting for answers. She nodded, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
“I can guess. It’s not the first time.”
“Care to explain that one, bird?”
“I was going to. I was going to explain it to Harley today at noon. We were going to start training together,” she whispered, looking at the ground in shame. Cajun had been afraid of that. He knew his little brother wouldn’t press her for the answers he needed, that he would wait until she was ready to give them freely. Cajun refused to allow her the luxury.
“Do you think he can train someone that he can’t trust?” She flinched.
“I swear I was going to tell him. Please believe me!” Her eyes begged him for understanding, but he remained strong. He had to know the depth of her character, her deceptions.
“Truly? Then why didn’t you tell him before? You’ve had several opportunities now, I’m sure.”
“I was afraid,” she replied without hesitation, the tears rising. “I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t know why I do these things, why I can’t remember them, or what I’m capable of. It terrifies me.”
“Do you willingly put him in danger then?” Her eyes went wide, tears flowing freely.
“I…I wouldn’t hurt him.”
“How can you be sure of that? You just said you don’t know what you are capable of.” She opened her mouth, then dropped her gaze to the ground with no reply. He felt her conviction in not wanting to hurt Harley, but she wasn’t as sure of her abilities in that regard as she said. He left that alone for now.
“You challenged me back there. Do you remember that?” She looked into the distance for a long moment, before understanding dawned in her eyes. She swallowed, chin lifting.
“Yes.”
“You knew what would happen if you did that, didn’t you? You knew that I would not be able to back down from a challenge. That I would have to follow you.”
“I had hoped,” she replied dully.
“Why?”
“You’re Harley’s family. He’s done everything he could to protect you his whole life. How could I let something happen to you now, if I had the power to prevent it?” The answer surprised him. There was nothing to suggest that she was lying to him, only earnestness and pain. Pain that suggested she’d lost someone that close to her in the past. His eyes slid down to the chain hidden under her shirt, thinking about what Tandy said about her dead brother and his dog tags.
“How do you do it?”
“I’m not certain.” She was uncertain, but she had a very strong idea, he could tell. She simply didn’t want to share it.
“Figure it out.”
“Only when Harley is here to hear it,” she replied stubbornly, chin lifting, eyes going hard. Cajun’s Hybrid gave a slight nudge to his consciousness. The reasoning behind the action surprised him. It was a nudge of respect. He sighed, moving toward her. She tensed, but made no effort to retreat. He reached for her bike, pushing it toward the back of his SUV.
“Open the doors,” he ordered, nodding toward the back doors. She moved to obey after only a moment’s hesitation. “Pull that tab, push the seats down.” Again she did as he instructed, folding the seats down, leaving a flat surface. He lifted her bike, shoving it inside. It barely fit, but it would do for the short trip. He turned to her, eyes hard, unyielding.
“We’re going to your apartments. You’ll clean up then meet me back down at the gates. We are going to see my brother, and you are telling us everything.”
She stared out at the night, giving a sharp nod. Her eyes shifted to meet his, and he had the strangest urge to take a step back. Maybe it was because of the way they had looked before the fight began, with those unearthly strange eyes. They were perfectly normal now, revealing no reason for him to react in such a way. But something in her eyes held power, and a certain command of strength. He shook his head and the feeling dissolved as instantly as it had appeared.
“You’re right. It’s time. Let’s get this over with.” She grabbed up her helmet and gun, shaking her head in disgust at the mess on the helmet. Tossing them it in the back with her bike, she holstered the gun and headed for the passenger door. She climbed in and waited for him to join her without a word. Taking one more look at the carnage on the street, he jumped in the driver’s seat. They drove in complete, frigid silence. About a block from the apartments she broke that silence to ask him to pull over. He hesitated but did as she asked. Jumping out she moved around to the back, opening the doors. He followed, making sure she wasn’t about to jump ship.
“Can you pull my bike out, please?” He eyed her darkly and she sighed. “I have to clean up. They’ll never let me in the gates looking like this.” Humoring her he pulled the bike out, placing it on the ground. She shook her head, mumbling something about a family of Hulks. He smirked slightly as she opened the side bags on the bike, pulling out two large towels and a bottle of water. Laying the towels on the ground she dumped the bottle of water over both of them. She tossed one towel over the bike and used the other to scrub herself clean in the dark window of his car. Satisfied with that, she used the other towel to clean off her bike, face lamenting its wounds as she scrubbed. She finished off with her helmet, popping it back down on her head, sparkly clean. Tossing the towels in a nearby trashcan she turned back to him, eyes solemn. He didn’t even have to ask, but he did.
“Do this often?”
“I told you it wasn’t the first time,” she replied darkly, moving to climb on the bike. “Follow me over. I’ll leave the bike inside when I come down, since I’m guessing you wouldn’t trust me to ride wherever we are going.” He folded his arms over his chest, saying nothing. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’ll be down in a few.” She started the bike, riding it the rest of the way. Cajun followed, waiting outside the gates. While he waited he made a few important phone calls, setting into motion the rest of his plans. True to her word she returned not ten minutes later, hair still dripping wet, no bike in sight. They drove wordlessly, parking outside Foundation’s security gates. It would be another three hours before Harley was released from his necessary medical evaluation. Cajun probably should have le
t her stay home during this time, let her sleep. The exhaustion was evident in her drooping lids. He could have waited outside the gates, the only way in or out of the apartment complex. Instead, he stubbornly kept her in his sights, trapped in the chilled car with him.
“Got any cuts or scrapes?” he muttered. She didn’t bother to ask why.
“No.” She stared sullenly out the window as the silence settled back in. Neither one of them talked for a long time. Enough time that he started to feel guilty. He’d always loved women, always respected them. He was Harley’s opposite in that regard. It was difficult and unusual for him to come down so hard on anyone of the gentler sex. When he glanced her way and saw tears glistening in her eyes from the reflection in the window, he caved.
“Aw, look, I’m sorry, bird,” he muttered gently. “I shouldn’t have come down on you so hard.” She shook her head, covertly wiping away her tears before looking at him.
“You don’t need to apologize, Cajun. You are just looking out for your brother. You can’t be faulted for that.” She looked back out the windshield. “I deserved it. I needed it.” He was again surprised by her. Here she was beating herself up, when most women would be up in arms over his treatment of them. He was suddenly reminded of Charleen. This girl wasn’t so much different from his fiancé. Sure they came from vastly different places in life, but he could feel that she had been through her share of hard times. And while she put on a tough front, underneath she was just a lost little girl in need of compassion. He’d recognized it so easily in his Charleen, almost at first sight. He was slightly surprised that he hadn’t seen it in the girl until now. And that of course made him feel even more guilty.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sheila. We’ve all got dog days and cat days.” She looked at him with a small smile.
“Which one’s worse?” He thought about that a moment.
“Haven’t the slightest idea. Dumbest saying I’ve ever heard, actually.” He grinned mischievously at her. “It’s one of Harley’s.” Her grin widened, the smile reaching her eyes, giving them a bit of sparkle.
“That’s a girl. Now hop in back and get some sleep. Dante’s bound to be in a mood if he sees you before he gets in the car. He’ll be in a mood anyways, but at least I’ll have him trapped first.” She did as he asked, hopping into the back without a complaint.
“Why do you call him Dante?”
“Huh? Did I?” He cringed, looking out the window. Sometimes he hated his brain.
“Yes. It’s the second time I’ve heard you call him that.”
“Huh.” She grinned at his stiff reply.
“I can finally see some resemblance between you now, even if only in your word usage.”
“It’s a sensitive subject for him. I try not to call him that. But with my brain…” He shrugged in frustration. “It’s screwed up in there and sometimes I revert to calling him that. I don’t even realize it until he gets up in a smoke about it. Let’s forget I said it, yeah?”
“Of course.” She paused, toying with her wet hair. “Harley told me about your brain cancer.” She spoke quietly, carefully, as though unsure if she was stepping on delicate ground. She might be. He said nothing, waiting. “I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re okay now. I think you are right; Harley would be lost without you.”
“Of course he would be. Most people are lost without me- they just don’t realize it cause they’ve never met me. Poor ding bats.” He tacked on his trademark crooked grin, glancing at her in the mirror. She offered a return smile, looking down into her lap. “But thanks for that,” he added.
“Sure.”
“And Amiel?” She looked up, their gazes meeting in the mirror. “I want to like you, bird. I really do. I think you could be good for Harley, the little twit. But I promise, if you break my brother I’ll find a shark and feed you to it. Yeah?” Her eyes widened, before a smile stretched her lips.
“I’d do it for you,” she offered, and he felt that she actually meant it.
“Good. Because I’m not entirely sure where I’d find a shark around here.” She chuckled quietly. Cajun felt they had found some common ground. And now that they had, he really hoped that she wouldn’t disappoint. He wanted so badly for his little brother to finally know happiness. Of course, with what Cajun had planned next, he’d have to hope Harley didn’t kill him before he found out if happiness was in his little brother’s cards.
Chapter 27
Harley
Cajun was up to something. For one, he’d texted him to meet at the gates, and said to ‘leave the pig home’. That was his lame way of saying he had to ride in Caj’s car. Cajun knew how much he hated leaving his bike behind. For another, Harley could practically smell the reek of Cajun’s nerves when he stepped out of the car with his cheesy grin on full blast. He was up to something, and it was something he knew Harley wouldn’t like.
“Harley!” Cajun slapped him heartily on the shoulder. Harley stared down at his shoulder, then up at his brother.
“What did you do?” he grumbled in accusation. Cajun’s eyes widened innocently.
“What? Why would you even think I did something?” His protest stuttered out as Harley leaned closer, sniffing. A suspicious frown twisted his lips.
“Y’all smell like Amiel. A lot. Why?” Cajun gave him a wincing smile, leading him toward the back door of the SUV.
“Char’s going to love that one,” he mumbled. “Let’s just go. I’ll explain on the way.”
“What’s the problem? How did it go last night? Did you get Amiel home safe? She didn’t answer my text.” Cajun yanked the back door open, and Amiel’s scent immediately slammed Harley in the face.
“That’s probably because she’s been passed out the whole time,” Cajun replied apologetically. Harley’s eyes narrowed when he saw her slumped over in the back seat, unconscious.
“What the hell happened, Cajun? You were supposed to be keeping her safe, not bringing her to the lion’s den!” His teeth barred and he glanced around nervously. The idea of her being so near Foundation made him edgier than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He kept his gaze carefully trained on Amiel, torn between the urge to go to her, and the need to pound his brother in the nose.
He settled on the first, climbing inside and cautiously sniffing her hair. She smelled of fresh shampoo and soap, her scent warm and tempting as always. He noticed the dangerous edge of it was slightly fading, as was the scent of his blood. Both of these facts brought him relief, though the last one, stupidly enough, left him a little sad. He reached out gently running a hand down her jaw, thumb lightly brushing along the outer edge of her bottom lip, feeling for the draft of her breath. Reassured that she was breathing, he settled into his seat more fully, glad his back had shielded what he’d just done from Cajun. All he needed right now was some smart alec remark from his brother to push him over the edge of his anger. Seeing her whole and safe had alleviated some of the fury, but it wouldn’t take much to stir it back up.
“Explain,” he barked sharply, eyes still glued to his charge.
“She’s fine! She’s just sleeping,” Cajun promised, shutting the door at his back. Harley tensed, not only because he was now prisoner to whatever Cajun had planned, but also because he’d been shut in with Amiel’s scent. Again. A scent that had obviously had time to marinade inside the car, and on his brother, for hours.
“How long she been sittin’ in here with ya?” he asked, tightly restraining his Hybrid’s ire over the close proximity she had shared with Cajun for so long. She’s your friend, she’s your charge, and it ain’t y’all’s damned business who she is or isn’t around so long as she’s safe, he reminded himself sternly. His Hybrid grumbled but backed down. Harley rolled his neck to loosen the forming knot there. Besides, she’d been with his brother, his engaged brother. He could trust Cajun to not doing anything stupid.
“Um…a few hours?” Cajun supplied apologetically.
“Why?” Harley clenched his teeth
. “What happened?”
“See, that’s a funny story.”
“Shut up and get to the point, Caj.”
“She went a little wobbly on the way home.”
“Wobbly?”
“Um, what did pops call it…psycho? No that wasn’t it…”
“Exorcist,” Harley muttered, looking back down at Amiel. It made sense now. She’d been attacked while riding home, and Caj was just protecting her till she recovered. His teeth clenched in frustration. He’d allowed his instincts to pull him over that thin line of aggression again. He should be thanking Cajun, not attacking him.
“Yeah, that’s it!” His brother’s excited shout caused Amiel to stir. She shifted around until she was cuddled up against Harley’s side, and he tensed, unsure of what to do. His Hybrid didn’t have the same problem. It squirmed around in his mind in that same unsettling way it had been doing since waking in her apartment. He looked down, wondering if he should wake her, or at least try to move her away. A small smile tilted her lips as her nose pressed against his leather jacket, mumbling contentedly in her slumber. He nearly groaned. How could he turn that away? He forced his shoulders to relax, making them a softer pillow.
“Sorry for yellin’ at ya, Caj. I’m wound a little tight right now. Thanks for keepin’ her safe for me.” He kept his tone quiet, not wanting to disturb her again.
“Yeah, no problem. It’s just…” Cajun winced in the mirror. “Don’t thank me quite yet.” And there it was. Harley took it back. His instincts had been right, his brother was up to something stupid.
“Cajun,” Harley growled. Cajun’s ideas were rarely good ideas.
“Oops!” Cajun smiled innocently as they swerved and hit a large bump, jolting Amiel awake. She stretched, body pressing against him in a way that made the heat rise under his collar. Harley sat as rigidly still as possible, waiting to see if she would fully wake this time. She suddenly froze, and he knew his answer. Pulling away, she pushed the messy hair out of her eyes, gaze slightly unfocused as she gained her bearings. When that gaze finally fell on him, he met and held it. Her cheeks flushed slightly.