Page 10

T his was exactly why he always left interactions with clients to the office staff. Lovey always did tell him he was too blunt to be allowed to open his mouth around the general public.

But it was difficult to have the office interfacing with a “client” they didn’t know existed.

Jesse turned his head from the dark, wet ribbon of road to cast a brief look in Destiny’s direction. She lay with her head at an odd angle against the SUV window, cushioned by the pink VIRGINIA IS FOR LOVERS emblazoned T-shirt he’d bought her today when they’d stopped for supplies at the big discount store.

From the sound of her slow, regular breathing, it appeared she’d stopped pretending to sleep in order to avoid conversation with him and had actually dozed off.

One thing for sure, she was going to wake with one hell of a sore neck, and from what he knew of Destiny so far, she’d likely be grouchy as all get-out. The thought made him smile. She certainly didn’t go out of her way to hide her feelings.

Which was why it bothered him all the more that he’d hurt those feelings earlier.

Ah well, better a little emotional pain than a whole lot of physical pain. She’d just have to deal with the fact that Faeries actually did roam the planet, and for some reason she either didn’t know—or didn’t want to share—they were after her. And likely already had her sister.

It was the “didn’t want to share” possibility that gnawed at him still, even though they’d discussed it.

Discussed? Yeah, right. That was like saying the drenching rain outside was a gentle mist.

She’d been withdrawn through their entire shopping trip, surprisingly choosing only a few items. She wouldn’t even have picked up a purse for herself if he hadn’t grabbed one. A purse, for God’s sake. He hadn’t put in all these years surrounded by the women in his family not to recognize how a purse was a female essential. Even his little niece already had a play purse she carried her favorite things in.

When he’d tossed the little pink leather bag in the basket, she’d simply eyed him with the same look of distrust she’d worn since they left the airport, continuing on in silence to the checkout counter.

The silence lasted until they left the store and approached their vehicle.

“I can’t stand it any longer,” she’d said, stopping with her bags clutched to her chest. “You need to explain what you said back at the airport. What the heck is a Nuadian Fae?”

He’d opened the back passenger door and tossed his bag inside. “The bad guys, babe. Faeries who want to alter life as we know it.”

She’d tilted her head, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Faeries? Faeries as in… what? Disneyland faeries?”

He wasn’t prepared to let her slide. He expected honesty. Demanded it. One hundred percent. He gave no less. “I think you know what I’m talking about. Faeries, as in otherworld beings. Like us, only… not. It would appear they have your sister and they’re damn well doing their best to get you, too.”

“Faeries. Have you actually seen any of these vicious little creatures flying around, carrying people off?”

“Sure have, babe, and so have you. His name’s Dermond Tyren. Psycho Blondie, remember him?” He’d reached for her bags but she’d backed up a step, still holding them to her chest.

They’d needed to get out of that parking lot and on the road. They did not need to be standing there in the open discussing the goddamned Fae, where anyone searching for her could easily spot them. Maybe he should have reasoned with her. Should have tried explaining how he knew what he knew. But he hadn’t. He’d lost his patience and grabbed her arm, tugging her toward the SUV.

“Look. I’m tired of the bullshit. The longer you withhold important information from me, the longer it’s going to take to find your little sister. You’re making this harder for all of us.”

Destiny had jerked her arm away, her mouth drawn into a thin, disapproving line. “You’re tired of the…” She bit off her words and slammed the bag she held into his chest, poking the plastic he now held in front of him like a shield. “Look. You don’t want to tell me what’s really going on? Fine. Don’t make up crap like I’m some simpleminded bimbo who’ll swallow whatever BS you dish out. I don’t appreciate being treated like I’m twelve.” She’d pushed past him and climbed up into the seat, leaning out for one last onslaught before slamming the door behind her. “What is it with you? Do you do drugs? Does your employer have any idea what a total freak you are?”

As he’d climbed in the vehicle with her, she was still muttering. The last words he’d heard between then and now was something about her life having turned into a toilet, surrounded by psycho kidnappers and wannabe Highlanders.

In response, he’d pointed out that technically he was a Highlander, but she hadn’t been impressed enough to do more than glare at him.

One more glance in her direction. Yeah, she was one fiery little bundle of spunk, all right.

He could have pursued the discussion, forced the issue right then and there, but he’d thought of his sister and the thousand times she’d advised him to bite his tongue and back away from situations best left for another time. Finally he’d decided there was no gain to be had in slugging it out now. There would surely be a better opportunity before they reached Arizona.

And if there wasn’t?

He’d just have to make his own opportunity. The only problem was, if it came to that, there’d be no backing down to spare her feelings. He wouldn’t have that kind of luxury next time they had the Faerie discussion.

Rain pelted the car as they sped forward, but he could still see well enough. According to the road signs, there was an exit up ahead lined with hotels.

He passed it by without even slowing.

No real point in pulling off now. Destiny was already out and he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Without all the facts he needed, it was probably just as well. Better he should try to plan for any contingency, try to be ready for any possibility.

Unfortunately it was starting to look an awful lot like one of those possibilities just might be that she really didn’t have a clue about the Fae.

Or even—assuming those visions of hers were the real thing—about being descended from Faeries herself.

A fine, light-reflecting mist clung to her, flowing around her waist high, hampering her passage. It took all her energy to make the slightest forward motion, her body feeling as if she weighed tons. When she finally forced a step, her movement sent the smokelike tendrils dancing in beautiful swirls and eddies, each sparkling with rainbow hues.

Destiny pushed against an unseen force, fighting uselessly to move forward.

This was all wrong. Different dream-visions never came so close together. They had always repeated, like reruns on television, until she’d actually lived through whatever she’d seen last.

But this was no repeat. It was very different from the last vision she’d had. Stifling, dark if not for the incandescent flickering of the fog around her.

Destiny dipped her hand into the opaque vapors, fascinated by their writhing motion and hypnotic patterns. She allowed the undercurrent of the mist to gently carry her hand backward until she was forced to turn her whole body. Only then did she reluctantly lift her hand, watching as the colored vapors snaked around her fingers. Tickling and tingling against her skin, they spiraled up into the air before diving down to rejoin the mass.

The smoky mist felt almost alive.

“It is alive.”

Her father’s voice. Destiny knew that when she awoke she’d be angry that she had dreamed so vividly of the man who had deserted her family, remembering so distinctly the sound of his voice after all these years. But for now, here in her dream-vision, his voice guided her, comforted her, as it sometimes did in this reality.

“It’s the time flow of the All-Conscious, Desi. Don’t fight it. Let yourself go with it and it will show you what you seek.”

Go with it?

Though her body struggled in vain to move forward, her hand had floated effortlessly backward in the mist, turning her body around, pulling at her as if she were to follow it. Was that the key, moving backward? Had she missed something in the vision she’d had earlier?

Tentatively she took a step, and then another. It felt as if the mist urged her on, pushing her to hurry.

No wonder it wanted her to hurry. In the distance, she could see the light that would soon flood this reality already gathering its strength, roiling in great heaving clouds of white and yellow, like eruptions on the sun gone wild.

Her time here would be ending soon.

She broke into a run and the mist evaporated. Ahead she could see the Arizona road sign, but she was moving much faster than if she were on foot, or even in a car, because the sign flew past her. Now, in the distance and closing, another sign. Large, weathered copper held aloft by massive poles like stripped tree trunks. As she passed it, more slowly than the first sign, she thought she saw the word FLAGSTAFF , but it was as if she viewed it through a dirty pane of glass.

A car window?

Then it, too, was gone, and she floated, suspended once again in the mist.

“Keep an eye out, babe, our turnoff should be just ahead.”

Jesse’s voice. Even in the dream reality he insisted on using that stupid endearment when he talked to her.

She swatted away the thought. It wasn’t an endearment. More likely it was because he couldn’t remember her name half the time. Besides, the term itself wasn’t an important piece of the vision, unlike his being here. He sat beside her, driving the vehicle in which they rode.

Lifting her hand, she reached out to touch him, but he’d already melted away. The car was gone, too. Instead she stood in someone’s living room, surrounded by dark, rich colors and heavy leather furniture.

In the corner she spotted a desk littered with paperwork. So much paper, it even lay scattered on the floor underneath. She sat down in the chair and reached out to the keyboard in front of her, looking up as she did. An odd painting hung on the wall above. Tiny footprints, like those of a baby, trailed a pastel path across a large canvas. Stenciled across the top were the words FAERIE TRACKS .

Even her dreams were now taunting her with Faeries.

An arm brushed past her and her senses flooded with warmth and the clean scent of soap, heady and masculine.

“You can check your email here.”

Jesse pressed a button and the monitor came to life, its screen flickering with numbers and letters even as the edges of Destiny’s vision blurred in the growing glare of the gathering light.

“Trust me,” he whispered, and she looked up at him. He was shirtless, holding a thick green towel he’d apparently used in trying to dry his tousled wet hair. Markings, a tattoo of some sort, on his arm drew her eyes from the infectious grin that melted her heart.

She reached out, thinking to trace the markings on his muscled arm. Not for the sheer pleasure of running her finger across his bare skin. Not that at all, she tried to convince herself as she hesitated. She only wanted to study the tattoo, but she’d delayed too long. The light was so bright now, even Jesse’s face so close to hers became blurred.

In the short time she had left, she wanted to apologize for having lost her temper in the real world. It was safe here in this place to confess the shortcomings she fought to hide. She understood that his only concern was to help her find Leah while keeping her safe, but there was so much fear in her heart. So much of the world spun out of her control.

She opened her mouth to admit her feelings, but once again, her attention was drawn away.

The brilliant glare that reduced Jesse to nothing more than a bright spot at her side highlighted a doorway behind him where a silhouetted figure stood. She had only a fleeting glance at the man before the light consumed everything, so his features were lost to her.

What she did see was that he was a large man with long blond hair, very much like Psycho Blondie and his friend at the airport in Norfolk. Worse, he was headed directly for Jesse’s back with a shiny metal object in his hands.

“Jesse! Look out!”

When Destiny screamed, Jesse slammed his foot on the brake, sending the large Dakota skidding forward on the black rain-slicked highway.

The rear end of the vehicle fishtailed and vibrated wildly as the big SUV eventually came to a stop on the deserted strip of road.

Completely deserted.

“What the fuck?” Jesse snapped, glaring at the woman next to him as he switched off the engine. His heart pounded in his chest. Just the thought of what could have happened if there had been other cars on the road left his mouth dry.

Her face looked pale in the soft interior light of the vehicle, her fear evident. “I thought there was a man.…”

“What? Were you fucking dreaming?” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, fighting for the emotional control he didn’t feel at the moment. He could have flipped the car. Could have killed her. Could have killed them both.

“Yes!” she snapped back, anger replacing the earlier fright in her expression. “As a matter of fact, I was dreaming. But that doesn’t give you the right to use that disrespectful language when you’re speaking to me.”

The rebuke drew him up short and he felt his temper spiking. Disrespectful language? Who the hell did she think she was, his grandmother or something?

Rather than yell again, he took a deep breath and locked his jaw shut. In a matter of moments, as his adrenaline levels returned to near normal, logic kicked back in and he could think more clearly.

No, she wasn’t his grandmother. She was his client. And everyone over the age of thirteen knew you didn’t drop the F-bomb on a client. Not even when they deserved it.

Rain pounded on the roof, a driving background to the tense silence inside the vehicle.

“Sorry.” He managed the clipped word as he fumbled with the keys. Apologies weren’t something he handed out casually, but then he rarely dealt with an emotion like the one he’d just experienced. He was never frightened, never lost his cool with a client, and why he did now was beyond him. No matter how it felt, this wasn’t personal. It was business, and he needed to remember that.

He restarted the engine and pressed gently on the gas as their speed gradually increased, keeping his eyes focused ahead of him.

“Thank you for the apology,” she responded at length, her words barely loud enough to be heard over the pelting rain. “But I don’t have any claim to moral high ground in being angry with you. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was just scared. You were right. I was having a dream… another vision of what’s to come.”

Jesse took a deep breath and expelled the last of his unwelcome emotions. Time to get back to business. “And?”

“And… someone was getting ready to attack you. Psycho Blondie, I think. I was only trying to warn you.”

“Well, babe, I do appreciate your having my back, but next time, why don’t you try to figure out whether it’s real or not before you sound the alarm, okay?”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered, turning to stare out into the dark whipping past her window.

“This attack, was it happening someplace specific? In Arizona, maybe?” It would certainly be nice to have a destination in mind a little less general than just Phoenix.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She turned in her seat to stare at him. “I saw a sign that had the word Flagstaff written on it, and then everything changed and we were in someone’s home, maybe a living room. There was dark leather furniture and I was sitting at a computer, trying to check my email. I don’t know where that room is. All I do know for a fact is that it’s where I have to go next.”

“Can you remember any other details? Anything at all that could help us find this place?”

“Not really. Oh! A painting of some sort hanging above the computer. I can’t imagine that would help us at all. In fact, it’s probably nothing more than my subconscious trying to offload unimportant information.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you describe it for me.” They couldn’t afford to overlook any possible clues, even things that, as she said, might not have any bearing at all.

“Okay. It was maybe six feet long, two feet high. Not much to it. Just a canvas full of little footprints. But nothing else, really.”

I’ll be damned.

“Was there maybe a title on the painting? Faerie Tracks by any chance?”

“How do you know that?” She stared at him, her pouty lips invitingly ajar.

How? Because he’d been there the day Cate had dipped Rosie’s pudgy little feet in paint and let her take those first giggling steps across the long strip of butcher paper. He’d taken it to the framer himself, adding the title he’d thought so clever at the time.

Instead of answering, he pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial.

“Peter Hale,” a sleepy voice answered on the fourth ring. “Do you have any idea what time it is here?”

“Sure do. That’s why I called you at home. Looks like we have a slight change in our flight plan.”