Jon clutched the phone and had to be mindful not to shatter it with his strength. “No. They’re not back.”
“Then why ask about Manzo?”
“I’m home. Back in Nape Field,” said Jon, already knowing the information would not sit well with his captain. They’d agreed to give up their former lives. To be dead to all who knew them. Coming home wasn’t permitted, even though Jon’s family was all dead and gone.
“I see.” Lukian sounded pissed. Jon couldn’t blame him.
“There is a girl here. A young woman claiming to be Vinnie’s daughter.” He swallowed hard. “I smell him on her. Traces of family. And there’s more. I exchanged blood with her. and after I did, I got a glimpse of what she can do.”
“And what can she do?” asked Lukian.
“A lot,” said Jon, and then cleared his throat. “She can see and hear the dead.”
Lukian gasped. “Like Manzo was able to do toward the end of his testing?”
“Yeah. But we’d all thought his mind was broken,” he said, sorrow filling him. “I didn’t believe him. I thought he’d snapped. And I thought he died.”
“We all did,” said Lukian.
“But he didn’t.”
Silence greeted him. It seemed to stretch on forever before Lukian next spoke. “We need to talk.”
Jon tensed. He didn’t like the sound of that. “Why? What’s going on?”
“It’s about Manzo and the other Outcasts, and it’s about Lance,” Lukian said.
Jon didn’t like the sound of that, either. “What?”
“This is a talk best done in person.”
“No. Tell me,” ordered Jon, knowing he was overstepping his bounds, but he didn’t care. He needed to know. “Please.”
Lukian let out a long, slow breath. “Jon, head on back. We’ll talk about it here. I’ll have eyes put on the girl to assure she’s safe.”
“Safe? Are you fucking kidding me? Lance is dead. Wilson nearly died. Eadan had a brush with death. We’re not doing so hot in the keeping-people-alive department, Captain. I’m not leaving her here alone. And I can’t come in just yet. I have to be here.”
“She’ll be fine. You have my word.”
“Your word means shit when it comes to my mate,” he shouted and then realized how far gone he was. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit,” echoed Lukian. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure. Yeah. And, Captain, I think she’s in danger, but I couldn’t tell you from who or what.” There, he’d voiced it out loud.
The sounds of Roi threatening to kill Wilson came through the phone. Eadan’s taunts followed close behind.
Lukian sighed. “Jon, do you need us there?”
Yes.
“No,” he said. “You all should be there. If Missy is in labor that means Peren won’t be far behind. Then Melanie. You should all be by your women now.”
“You’re our brother,” said Lukian. “We’ll come.”
“No. It’s probably nothing. I’ve not been sleeping right and you already know I’ve started drinking way too fucking much. It’s probably just my imagination.”
It wasn’t. He knew as much.
“Jon, new information has come to light recently. I wanted to tell you in person.” Lukian grew quiet again and the second ticked by. “It’s about the Outcasts and Lance.”
He wasn’t sure anything would surprise him after the day he’d had. “What about them?”
“They’re alive,” said Lukian. “All of them are alive.”
Grabbing hold of the banister of the porch, Jon had to force himself to ease his grip as the wood began to splinter. “Come again?”
“Our government lied to us, Jon. They told us they were all dead, but they weren’t.”
“W-where are they all now?”
“We don’t know for sure. We’ve found two of the Outcasts. That’s it.”
“How can Lance be alive? We buried him.”
“We buried a body,” said Lukian.
Jon nodded, unable to speak.
“We’re trying to hunt down more information. We didn’t want to tell you about it all until we had something solid. Something more. But seeing as you know Vinnie didn’t die back then, guess you should know the rest too. Jon, Weston Carol surfaced. He’s alive and well.”
He couldn’t comment. He didn’t have the words. He’d spent so long blaming himself for the deaths of Vinnie, Weston, and Lance that he couldn’t find anything profound to offer. The only thing he did know was the guilt that had been riding on his shoulders for so long didn’t ease magically. If anything, it worsened. They were alive and he’d abandoned them, thinking them dead.
Fuck.
“Let go of me!” yelled Roi.
“Fuck. I have to go. I’ll call you back,” said Lukian right before the line went dead.
Jon didn’t need to be told just how much of a handful Roi was probably being. The man’s mate was in pain and his daughters were about to be born. It was amazing anyone held him back from Missy for as long as they had. With slow, deliberate motions he put his cell back in his pocket and rested his hands on the banister, bowing his head in reflection.
A year ago he’d thought life was good—not perfect, but good. Now life was totally and utterly screwed up.
The screen door opened. “Is all well at work?” Tori asked, her voice chasing away the pain.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. She was so small compared to him. He wanted to draw her against his chest and hold her close. He stayed perfectly still, afraid he’d do just that. He couldn’t explain away his urges with her. And he’d never harm a woman.
Ever.
He forced a smile to his face. “Yes. Everything is fine.”
“Grandma wants to talk to you,” she said. “I think she wants you to eat more. She says you’re too thin now and that I need to fatten you up some.”
His gaze eased over her body slowly. His cock responded. Hell yeah, he was hungry for her. He wanted to fatten her up. He wanted to spill his seed in her and have her belly grow with life he helped to create. He wanted what Roi was about to have—a family.
A low growl started in the back of his throat and he had to cough in an attempt to hide it.
She smiled, only serving to make her more appealing. “You coming?”
Jon moved toward her and waited until she turned to head in before moving another step. He didn’t trust himself near her. He’d never been like this before. Sure, he found women attractive and bedded them when need be, but he didn’t want to leap on them and devour them like he did with Tori. He returned to his seat and felt shaky.
“Jon?” Tori asked, her voice sultry and alluring. Just like she was. “You okay?”
He nodded.
She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him in the least before handing him a refilled glass of tea. He reached for it and their fingers touched. Instantly, heat was flaring up his arm and through his body, heading straight for his groin.
Tori jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned and eyed him suspiciously.
Did you feel it too? He found himself asking with his mind.
“Yes,” she said, her voice low.
Yes?
Jon tipped his head to the side and damn near fell out of his chair when he realized what had happened. Tori had somehow picked up on his thoughts. Wanting to test the theory, he put his head down and willed another thought at her.
It’s taking every ounce of my self-control not to touch you, Tori. I want to be buried deep within you and it’s wrong for so many reasons. Make me leave. Tell me to get out and never to come back. Do it now or I can’t guarantee I won’t be in you by nightfall.
The next thing he knew, Tori backed up so quickly that she hit the cupboard with a thud. Her blue eyes were wide and trained on him. “Umm, maybe, umm…we don’t want to hold you up, Jon. If you have somewhere else to be, we won’t take offense if you leave.”
A slow smile spread over his face. S
he had read his thoughts as a mate would.
I’m going to claim you.
Tori tried and failed to back up further as her face paled. In an instant, she was rushing through the back screen door and off the porch. Mrs. Manzo turned and stared at the door, looking puzzled.
“Oh dear. That poor child sees and apparently hears too much.”
Jon’s legs began to shake as he sat, torn between chasing after Tori and sitting politely for Mrs. Manzo. If he went after Tori, he’d have to explain how he knew what she was upset about, and he wasn’t ready to do that. Besides, getting her alone would be bad, very bad at the moment. His cock was aching and his senses were out of whack with need. Never had it been this bad around any other female. The urge to take Tori to the floor, sink his cock as well as his teeth into her was so great Jon had to force his thoughts away.
“Stop thinking about her like that. She’s Vinnie’s daughter,” he said, the words slipping free from him, though he’d rather they had stayed a private thought.
Mrs. Manzo vanished and appeared right next to him, making him jump slightly as she giggled, her eyes crinkling with mirth and wisdom. “See, that’s exactly why you should be thinking about her like that, Jon. Vinnie knew you’d come for her. He knew you’d take her from here and he knew you’d claim her as your own.”
Jon slammed his iced tea back, gulping it down, hoping to ease his suddenly dry throat. As he drank more, he peered through the glass and found a smiling Mrs. Manzo. She gave him a knowing look. He had to remind himself that he was looking at a woman who was no longer alive. She looked every bit as real as he remembered her being.
“I suppose I should be asking you some personal questions, boy. Like, are you married?” She narrowed her gaze. “With the way you’ve been staring at my granddaughter, that had better be a no.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “No, ma’am, I’m not married.”
“Seeing someone?” she asked, not letting up an ounce. It reminded him of the time he and Vinnie had stolen a pie from Mrs. Lankson’s windowsill, and Mrs. Manzo had spent the greater part of the day giving them a verbal thrashing.
“No, ma’am. There is no one else in my life.”
“Good. Now, what do you do for a living? I believe I know, but I want to hear it from your mouth.”
Jon tried and failed to keep the smile off his face. The woman was still able to conduct her version of the Spanish Inquisition, even at her age. “I’m still in the military, ma’am. Still with the I-Ops program.”
Instantly, she clammed up, drawing back a bit. “I see.”
He couldn’t bear to see Vinnie’s mother upset, and he knew damn well that the idea of her granddaughter becoming involved with a man who was still active in a group that had changed her son forever, worried her.
“So, she’ll know her husband will be home every night?”
“Yes,” Jon said without thought. “Erm, what I mean is—”
Mrs. Manzo watched him with a blank expression on his face.
“Ma’am, I should check on Tori.”
“If you were thinking what I suspect you were, she’s going to need a minute to calm down. She’s a good girl. Thoughts like that make her blush.”
Jon’s cheeks flared with color. “I wasn’t—”
She put her hand up, silencing him. “Save it and just promise me something.”
He sat silently, waiting for her request.
“Promise you’ll never hurt her for being different. That you’ll never raise your hand to her when she knows things she shouldn’t. That you’ll never tell her she’s an abomination.”
Anger tore through Jon as he shot to his feet. The need to rip the heads off anyone who had ever harmed her was great. “Who hurt her?”
Mrs. Manzo’s soft, warm smile drew some of the rage out of him. “Sit, Jon.”
He obeyed, his breathing ragged. The need to see Tori was safe and cared for took hold.
“There are a whole lot of folks who don’t understand her, Jon. But I suspect you know about that sort of thing,” she said, a sad look upon her face.
He clenched his fist. “Ma’am, you have my word that I will kill anyone who dares think of harming her.”
“That’ll do.” She winked.
He took another sip of tea, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. He half thought maybe he’d hallucinated the entire event. Maybe he was still in his bed back in Virginia dealing with the motherload of all hangovers.
She smiled. “I’m still here. You’ve not suffered some sort of brain injury. You can see the dead.”
“I see.”
“You already know why you can see me now when you couldn’t before,” said the woman. “You didn’t need some doctor boy to explain it to you.”
He nearly asked how she knew who Green was, but resisted. He had a feeling the woman knew a whole lot more on that side of the coin than he wanted to know. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I know why.”
“She’s your mate, isn’t that what you all call it?”
He nodded again, taking a seat as instructed. “It is, and yes, I believe she is.”
“But you don’t want her,” replied Mrs. Manzo. “Why? Is it because she has the gift only a few Fae have? The gift to see and hear the dead? The gift to get readings from objects and even the living?”
“Fae?”
Mrs. Manzo grinned. “Yes, Jonny. Fae. My family has a bit in their line.”
That explained a lot, but it left just as many questions. Vinnie should have dealt with the Ops testing with ease, unless whatever they’d introduced into him conflicted with his natural-born gifts. The new information also fit into something else. Something that gave him both hope and fear. All his Ops brothers were mated to women who had at least some Fae or magik blood in them. It was as if nature found them most compatible for his kind—the made supernaturals. Vinnie’s predictions had been right to date, and that meant Tori was now in danger.
He made a move to stand, but Mrs. Manzo appeared out of thin air in his path. “She’s safe. She’s in her art room painting. Let her be. She’s probably painting more tiger pictures. I swear, we’re all going to call this her Jon stage when she’s famous.”
“She’s in danger,” said Jon firmly.
“I know,” she said calmly. “It’s why you’re here.”
“What?” asked Jon. “I brought the danger.”
“You did not. Now hush up and listen. The danger isn’t coming for her right this minute, Jonny. Let her be. Look at yourself. You haven’t slept right in months. The sleep you’ve gotten has only been because you drank yourself out cold. Shame on you, young man.”
He nearly laughed. He was anything but a young man and Mrs. Manzo knew as much.
“Take yourself upstairs and get showered, shaved, and cleaned up, and then rest.” She pointed at him sternly. “You’re of no use to anyone in the state you’re in.”
He stood and thought he’d walk right through the spirit as he told her to forget about it, that he was going to Tori. He bumped into her instead and then sat down quickly.
Ghosts were real and solid?
It was a lot to absorb.
“Boy, do as you’re told. She needs you in top shape, Jonny. Go do as I say.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m taking orders from a ghost.”
“To others you’re just talking to yourself,” she said with a smirk.
He groaned. “Thanks. That makes it all better.”
“Go on up. Take the first room on the right. I’ll look after Tori and wake you if she needs anything.” There was something in her voice that said she was up to no good, but Jon knew better than to question her. Hell, she’d make him get a switch from the yard.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Ten
“What do you mean you sent him to bed?” asked Tori, staring at her grandmother. “He’s not a child.”
“You were busy with your art and he needed to get some rest,” said the woman.
“You’ve been painting for hours, sweetheart. And he’s needed the sleep. I also told him he could use the bathroom to get cleaned up. That boy needs a good, long sobering up. Now, go on up and try to be extra quiet, as to not wake him. The boy is dead-dog tired, Tori. He’s got personal demons that have been tormenting him. Give him time to rest.”
Tori glanced at the window, realizing it was dark out. Time had gotten away from her again. It did that to her often. “Is he okay?”
“He is. He just needs rest.”
She started in the direction of the stairs and then stopped. “Will he go away too?”
Her grandmother offered a loving smile. “No, child. Wild horses couldn’t make him walk away from you.”
“You mean walk away from Nape Field, right?”
Her grandmother winked and then vanished.
Typical.
Tori still wasn’t sure what to make of having Jon in Nape Field. Her father had talked so much of him when she was a child that she felt as if she already knew him when in reality he was a stranger. A quiet, soft-spoken one who looked like he could fall into the pages of a magazine and do just fine. His eyes were captivating and she couldn’t help but wonder how they’d look above her.
How he’d look there too.
Her body strummed with desire and she brought her hand to the back of her neck, the heat seeming to intensify. As sweat trickled down her back, Tori wondered if she shouldn’t just turn around and sleep down on the sofa, away from the level Jon was on. The temptation of having him so close was just too much.
She paused, nearly turning around and admitting defeat. As she thought more upon him—on how chiseled his jaw line was, how sculpted his body seemed to be even through the suit he had on, the artistic side of her won out. She found herself turning back to head downstairs, but not with the intent of running. No. She needed art supplies. How else could she capture the moment?
She gathered some sticks of charcoal pencils as well as some large sheets of paper before tiptoeing up the stairs and then heading in the direction of the spare room. She opened the door quietly, hoping to keep from waking her houseguest. When she looked to the bed, her hopes for sketching him vanished.
Separation Zone Page 7