As Aletheia left the stifling office, the manager picked up a telephone and started punching in numbers. Key in hand, Aletheia made her way back along the building, peering up at the workers on the second floor. She was wondering how to finesse climbing up there without looking conspicuous when she noticed the gaunt man she'd seen earlier, the one in a chemically induced haze. He was talking on a cell phone and pacing her in a parallel path on the pavement of the parking lot.
Frowning, Aletheia moved faster. She'd go back and peer inside the fire-damaged rooms later. Best to get to room six and lock the door until druggie moved on. But the way to her room was blocked. Up ahead by the side of the building another man loitered. He was not quite as thin, but just as disreputable-looking as the other. He, too, was on his cell phone, though his eyes met Aletheia's.
She remembered the manager, punching in numbers on his telephone. He'd seen her open her purse. Had he noticed all the cash she had in there? Aletheia's heart began to pound in her chest.
She turned around. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe this was simply a dump where rough-looking fellows hung out and talked on cell phones. But her pounding heart said: set up.
As she walked quickly back toward the office, the two men followed her. She was not imagining this, and she would find no help with the manager, not if he was the one setting up the mugging.
A third man appeared around the corner of the building. Aletheia stopped, boxed in.
No. This couldn't be happening. Nothing like this had ever happened to her, not even when she'd worked the late night shift at Aletheia's Asylum. She sucked air into her lungs and forced her brain to come up with a plan.
Meanwhile, the three men lounged toward her. No hurry. Nobody was going to stop them.
She had to get out of the net they were forming. Ideally, she wanted to run out to the street. It wasn't the greatest neighborhood, full of abandoned buildings and wheezing cars, but maybe if she were out in public it would deter the men and hold them off long enough for her to call on her phone for help. Unfortunately, the fellow by the office door blocked her path in that direction.
She turned. Opposite the street, between the gaunt man and the merely thin one, a space emerged, big enough to slip through before they could reach her. Aletheia hugged her purse to her chest. If this wasn't a simple mugging, if they were after Benjamin too, then she didn't want them to find out who she was. She waited as the men approached, fear like an animal in her blood. They had to get closer if she had a chance of getting past them. The man blocking her path to the street was grinning, his dark hair hanging stringily. The gaunt man looked like a determined zombie. The merely thin man held his arms like he was prepared to grab.
Aletheia waited, judged her moment, then ran. Thank God she always wore flats. She ran faster than she ever knew she could, aiming straight for the spot between the two thinner men. One of them reached out for her, but missed.
She had to sprint now, could hear them behind her. Lungs burning, legs pounding, she ran blindly, simply to get away. But she saw a path lead off past the motel building, something that wound into the landscaping beside the freeway. Aletheia flew into this wilderness, knowing her only hope was to outrun them.
But there were three of them. They were taller than she was, with longer legs. She was scared, but they were clearly desperate. Past plastic cups strewn in the bushes and over broken glass Aletheia ran. Behind her she could hear heavy footsteps, gaining. She ran faster.
Suddenly she was beside the freeway, a chain link fence separating her from the cars. Nobody stopped, however, nobody seemed to notice the situation or care. Meanwhile, her pursuers were nearly on her.
Aletheia stumbled to a halt as the thin man appeared in front of her. To her side the man with the greasy hair closed in. She whirled to find the gaunt drug addict behind her. She was trapped.
Maybe they only wanted her money. Maybe they didn't think they could get away with anything worse than theft, considering the freeway and all the cars rushing right by. But Aletheia didn't like the look in their eyes. They each seemed intently aware of her vulnerability.
The thin man smiled. Greasy Hair laughed.
Adrenaline coursed uselessly through Aletheia as her options went to zero.
She could see the thin man gathering himself to spring when a loud screech broke into the moment. A dingy yellow cab braked onto the shoulder of the freeway. All four players in the scene by the side of the road stopped to stare at the car.
Narrowly avoiding a fishtail, the cab skidded to a stop. A large and terrifying figure leaped out of it.
Aletheia and her three pursuers all backed up a step. They took another step back as the figure, a man with a face promising damnation, took hold of the chain link fence and leaped over.
Aletheia hadn't known her heart could hammer any harder. As frightened as she'd been of the three lowlifes who'd been chasing her, the man now standing just inside the fence was a vision straight from hell. Power and fury emanated from him in a nearly visible aura.
"Okay," he said, his voice an ominous hiss. "What now?"
The three men who would have attacked Aletheia all had the same answer to this question. They backed up as one, turned, and ran.
As the sound of their flight rustled off into the bushes, Aletheia was left alone to face the darkly furious figure. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, a second rush of adrenaline left her light-headed, but she drew herself up and spoke.
"Hello, Felix," she said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Aletheia looked terrified. That was the main thing Felix noticed as he stood there by the side of the freeway. She looked terrified—of him.
His second thought was she had a right to look that way. He was the alpha wolf, the bull moose, the lead ram. He was fully prepared to do whatever it took—whatever—to protect the woman he inexplicably thought of as his. The darkness was over him like a cloak. He shook with the desire to do battle.
"Aletheia." That's what he tried to say, anyway. He was afraid it came out like a snarl. Her eyes were large on him, the hazel a light, barely-there color.
Her obvious fear of him made the darkness deepen, just when it was more urgent than ever to banish it. Gulping in a breath of air, he closed his eyes and squeezed the darkness to one side. It was the best he could do. Opening his eyes again, he took a step toward her.
She shrank back.
Repressing the stab this sent through his chest, Felix kept coming. He worked to approach slowly, relaxing his tensed muscles, softening his face. She was looking merely frightened by the time he stood in front of her and, with exaggerated gentleness, took hold of her shoulders. He needed to touch her, needed to feel, beneath his hands, that she was okay.
Good. His lashes half-lowered. She felt unbroken. Still, he had to ask, "Are you all right?"
She stared up at him like a rabbit caught in a trap. Then, as she stared, her eyes, already wide, managed to open further. She put her hands on top of his where they rested on shoulders. "I'm okay, Felix," she said softly. "Are you all right?"
Everything stopped. Felix forgot to breathe. He couldn't believe she'd asked that... That maybe she knew. How scared he'd been to find her gone from the hotel room. How petrified to find her surrounded by bloodthirsty thugs. How much he needed to keep her safe. How much he...wanted.
As Felix gaped down at Aletheia, her expression softened yet more. She looked...understanding.
"Oh, Felix," she murmured, and moved her hands to his face.
Those two amazing hands of hers resting on his face were too much. The darkness rushed back in to center. Emotion rose like a tidal wave, impossible to control. Want, yearning, desire.
His arms went around her hard, pulling her close. He needed her close, as close as possible. His eyes shut tight, then squeezed tighter when her hands moved from his face to cross behind his neck and her body leaned into his. He needed. Oh, how he needed...
The force of Felix's awful need sho
ok him from the inside out. It shook so hard that it shook him right out of such dangerous vulnerability.
No. He couldn't allow this. He couldn't let her see— Aletheia shouldn't guess about the darkness. It was a grave mistake to expose his true self to anybody, but to Aletheia most of all. She'd—she'd look at him with total disgust. She'd look at him with fear, like the fear she'd had in her eyes a few minutes ago.
A sudden terror that he'd already exposed himself too far managed to accomplish Felix's goal. He was able to vanquish the darkness. It skittered back to its dungeon like a scared dog. His muscles eased as the want and need relaxed their hold on him. With a deep breath, he loosened his grip on Aletheia. It was okay. He was all cool again.
Meanwhile, she leaned away and looked up at him.
If he hadn't been back to himself, her eyes would have done him in, so deep they were, so soft. But he was back to himself. He was able to return her gaze, confident his face revealed nothing.
"Felix," she said. The softness turned to confusion.
Good. Better she be confused than horrified or disgusted. Because while she gazed at him with softness, the best he could return her was darkness.
It was all he had.
"Come on," he told Aletheia gruffly. "Let's get out of here."
~~~
"You think you're very clever, don't you?" Meredith swiped at a fly and kicked a dirt clod with a tennis shoe that was no longer pristinely white. "Figuring out how to make me tag along."
Strolling beside her on the hiking trail south of the house, Parker couldn't stop grinning. "Actually, I'm not very clever at all. One of my many character flaws."
Ahead of them, Cousin George, Aunt Rosa, and Sophie led the way down an easy trail winding into a wilderness of mixed brush and trees. Despite his lack of cleverness, Parker had lured Meredith out of the house and almost to himself. He was enjoying her proximity immensely.
The woman was pure Amazon goddess, as much power as beauty. Legs that went on forever, a royal slant of cheekbones, and a banked-heat promise in her blue eyes were all rolled tightly together in this guise of buttoned-down city girl.
That's what excited him the most, challenged him. So many wrappings between her and the rest of the world. He flexed the fingers of one hand, wondering how far he might get in unlacing the ties of those wrappings this morning.
"Right. You're not clever, or conniving." Meredith took long, easy strides over the unpaved track. "You didn't sic that little eight-year-old spy on me."
"Who, Sophie? I did not." Gazing ahead at the little girl, who was doing her best not to show any enthusiasm over the outing, Parker was able to deny Meredith's accusation with perfect sincerity. He hadn't put Sophie up to anything. Truth be told, he hadn't had the foggiest idea how to get through to Meredith that morning, how to convince her to play.
So he'd resorted to a strategy that had often served him well. He'd undertaken to do something worthwhile, then let karma take care of the rest. He'd used the same strategy four years ago, when Aletheia had been struggling to maintain her various relatives all by herself. True, he'd had no better plans than to come back to Deer Creek and become the family cook. But it had worked out well for everyone.
Now he explained to Meredith. "All I did was give in when George begged me to take him on a hike."
Upon learning of the proposed hike, Aunt Rosa had wanted to come along too, something about toning her legs for her next role in a dance musical. As the three of them were leaving, Sophie had noticed, and promptly run off to tattle to the newly designated responsible adult, Meredith. "You could have let me take them for a hike on my own," Parker claimed.
Meredith snorted. "Sophie told me you'd let them wander all the way to China if a good rock happened to catch your attention."
Parker replied with a noncommittal hum. The accusation was true. When something caught his artistic eye, it was hard for him to stay in touch with his surroundings. This shift of focus had been the bane of all the jobs he'd tried to hold. It was also happening right that second. The woman beside him in her trim capris and blinding white blouse seemed to him like an overly-polished surface, one that needed to have its true texture revealed. His desire for her, he suddenly realized, was as much artistic as sexual. The idea spiked his already elevated arousal.
Drawing in a long breath, Parker warned himself to slow down. Not yet. Keep it light. "So I'm a flake, rather than clever, and you thought you'd better come along to babysit." Parker shot her a sidelong glance. "Gee, I sure hope we're not keeping you from anything important."
Meredith gave him a narrow look. She'd been doing nothing more important than jabbing a Cross pen at a legal pad when Parker and the rest had joined the tattling Sophie in the dining room. Parker happened to know that Brad, assistant manager at Aletheia's Asylum, had sent Meredith packing from the café, insulted anyone thought he couldn't handle the place by himself.
On the trail now, Meredith lowered her lashes and turned to face forward again. "In the case of your family, babysitting is important." Her tone turned satisfied. "Besides, I got Penelope to agree that Sophie ought to come with us."
"Oh, Aunt Pen isn't the problem." Parker turned his attention forward, too, catching dark-haired Sophie in his view. "Pen understands Sophie needs to loosen up some, be a kid. I think living in foster care those two years knotted something inside her. Now Sophie's got to learn to spread her wings."
Meredith raised a pair of skeptical eyebrows. "Have you considered Sophie's problem might be lack of structure, rather than too much?"
Parker smiled. "Then why did you want her along on our impromptu hike?"
Meredith hesitated. For about half a second. But to Parker it was a significant half a second. Somewhere inside, she did understand the importance of play.
But she wasn't admitting as much. "Everyone needs exercise," she rationalized instead. "And Sophie can't get much going at a wheelchair's pace." She raised her chin and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "I maintain my conviction the household does need more structure."
Parker lifted a shoulder. "The household, maybe. But not Sophie." He paused. "Or you."
His comment made her stiffen.
Before he could decide if her response boded good or bad, a movement beyond her shoulder distracted him. "Hey!" He moved ahead of Meredith to call down to George, who'd left the path and was rapidly descending the rock-strewn slope. "Where are you going?"
George, grinning from ear to ear, stopped long enough to point downhill. The middle-aged man was the antithesis of Sophie, a perpetual child. "Going down to the stream," he called.
"Good idea, too," Rosa exclaimed, scrambling with frightening agility after him. "I need something to cool my pores." She had a notorious intolerance for heat, giving Parker little hope he'd be able to stop this train.
"Wait!" called Sophie, left back on the trail. She gazed wildly toward Parker and Meredith. Seeing Parker's expression, Sophie told them, "You can't. It's dangerous!"
Meredith caught Parker's arm. "Is it?"
"No." He was forced to admit it.
"Then why—?"
"Sophie thinks everything is dangerous." Parker started down the hill, too. "It's not dangerous, but on the other hand..."
"On the other hand...?" Meredith was close behind him, judging by her voice and the pebbles sliding down the hill past Parker's boots.
On the other hand, a lot of Parker's sculptures were down by the stream, like the one he'd been about to start the night she arrived. He wasn't ready for Meredith to see any of them. His art was... Well, it was his alone.
But George and Rosa had already disappeared into the thick growth of brush and trees that surrounded the little mountain stream. Too late to claw them back. As Parker sped with the slope of the hill, he knew his only hope of maintaining artistic privacy was to keep Meredith from getting near his first rock, a hundred yards downstream.
As he joined George and Rosa in the little clearing under the sycamores, Parker
thought quickly. "Let's wade in!" If they all got wet, nobody would want to keep hiking.
George had no problem with this idea. From his position squatting by the little burbling trail of water, he straightened with a laugh of pure glee and then splashed right in, Nike knock-offs and all. With the water reaching midway between his ankles and his knees, he squealed even louder than he'd laughed.
"That should cool my pores, all right," Rosa agreed. More daintily, she dipped her own feet in, shivering with each step.
Great. First problem solved: the hike was over. But when Parker could sense that Meredith and Sophie had also reached the little clearing, he wondered if he couldn't accomplish even more here. Without a second thought, he plunged in, too.
The cold was like a blast of ice shot through the veins. Totally exhilarating. Memories flashed at him: he was five years old, the first time he'd come to Deer Creek with his mother after the divorce. The stream, the liberating slash of cold, the marvelous sense of peace after all the months of tension.
Ah, beauty, freedom, the wonder of life. Drawing in a deep breath of the moisture-infused air, Parker looked toward the bank. If only he could get Meredith to see that beauty and wonder, too. Better yet, Sophie. But the two of them stood on the bank with identical expressions of disapproval.
"C'mon, Sophie," Parker tried anyway. She was only a kid. She should have been the first to jump in, but she was even more uptight than Meredith.
Or was she? Parker saw a look of yearning cross Sophie's face. Her feet, however, remained planted on dry ground.
"Come on," Parker said again, ploshing toward her. He made his voice relaxed. "Bet we could find some polliwogs."
He almost had her. Parker saw her make a micro-movement forward. Then she glanced toward Meredith.
Who was no help whatsoever. "You're all ruining your shoes," Meredith pronounced, crossing her arms over her chest.
"They'll be ruined to bits," Sophie agreed. Leaning back from the stream, she too crossed her arms over her chest.
I Gotta Feeling Page 11