“That’s really evolved of you.” She walked over to Shev and stood in front of her protectively. “Try to touch her and you’ll have to go through me. She didn’t kill that woman. Do you care about that at all? I’m more involved than she is. All she did was move the body so someone could find it
not
on my doorstep. She did it to protect
me
.”
“You?” Brandon flinched as if she’d struck him, his body bracing for another blow. “You had something to do with that woman’s death?”
“Why not?” She lifted her trembling chin and forced herself to glare. “If you aren’t going to wait to get all the facts before charging up on your shining motorcycle to save the day and kill the bad guy, what difference does it make which one of us you blame?”
Shev’s hand came up to rest on Aziza’s shoulder. “The Fireborne doesn’t protect the Qarin,” she whispered in surprise. “It shows favoritism. But I thank you for trying.”
Brandon heard her soft words and closed his eyes, running his hands through his thick, dark hair in frustration. “You didn’t do it.”
“No, she didn’t,” Greg chimed in, the humor gone from his voice. “None of us did, as a matter of fact. But if you’re supposed to be the authority, the
Enforcer
, why don’t you know about the monster that’s been following Aziza? The one who keeps dumping bodies in her path and threatening what’s left of her family?”
“Yes.” Now Ram sounded like he was enjoying himself at last. “Do you dogs actually do any real investigating? Or is it as clear-cut as—see Jinn, convict Jinn?”
Dogs?
Ram’s repeated insults about Brandon and the enforcers started racing through Aziza’s mind on a loop. It was either a common insult in the land of the Jinn or… She didn’t want to think about the
or
. All the information from Greg’s notebooks was starting to make her feel crazier than she already was.
Shev leaned closer, whispering in Aziza’s ear. “He accuses us, but he is the one who lurks in the shadows, watching every move you make. They don’t usually investigate alone, you know. If I were an Enforcer, I know the one
I’d
be suspicious of.”
Aziza pulled away from Shev, everything inside her rejecting that idea. Ram’s partner was just lashing out because she’d been wrongfully accused. Brandon had nothing to do with the deaths. Nothing to do with the threat to Penn. He wasn’t a part of this.
But you’re not sure, are you?
Brandon ignored the rest of them and came up to Aziza, cupping her face in his hands. “Tell me.”
She sighed, his touch robbing her of her doubts. It felt right. He felt right. “I already have. I’m—involved in something. Becoming something.”
“Fireborne?” he murmured. “You used that word before.”
“Yes, that.” She tried to convey the truth in her eyes. “Because of it, my brothers have been killed. The ones that protected them have been killed. And now that I’m all that’s left, random people I notice or talk to on the street are being killed. This morning… We’re here because my aunt may be in danger.” She leaned her cheek into his touch to stop herself from trembling. “I have to protect her.”
Ram banged the car with the back of his hand, making her jump. “You don’t need to explain anything to him, Aziza. You shouldn’t. And he shouldn’t be touching you. He has no right. His people are violent and prone to overreaction. If he calls them in, they’ll descend on this place and mete out their own brand of indiscriminate justice.”
Brandon ignored Ram’s accusations, keeping his steady gaze on hers. “You should have said yes.”
“What?” She saw the regret in his eyes. The concern. And more. “Yes, to what?”
“When I asked if you needed a bodyguard.”
Aziza started to smile at that, but forced herself to resist. He
had
just threatened to kill her Qarin. Blood for blood. What kind of fucked-up judicial system was that? “As you can see, I have about a dozen already. We don’t exactly need reinforcements.”
He glanced around at the others, and she could see the small signs of his displeasure. The tightening of his lips. The narrowing of his eyes. There was no doubt about his feelings toward them. Would he do what Ram had predicted?
Had she misjudged him? Were her instincts about Brandon wrong?
He looked down at her again and everything changed. His lips parted, his face relaxed into a small, sexy smile, and his eyes were warm and liberally flecked with gold. “A dozen bodyguards, eh? Well, now you have one more.”
How could any woman with a pulse resist when he put it like that?
Chapter Eight
“I’m sorry for invading this way. With…” she gestured toward the door, “…all this. Them.”
Sorry to be here under these circumstances
.
Sorry I’m not normal and I brought my mother’s demons with me to invade your safe, happy life.
She didn’t say it out loud.
“Nonsense. I’m just happy you’re in one piece.” Penn waved Aziza’s concern away, but she couldn’t help but notice that her aunt did seem uncomfortable. On edge. How would she react if she knew she and her girlfriend were being stalked like prey?
“And you’re here and safe,” Penn continued, unaware of Aziza’s thoughts. “You must tell me
everything
that happened after I left. If I hadn’t received Greg’s message yesterday morning I might have rung the police. I haven’t been able to sleep—I’ve been that worried about you.”
“Greg sent you a message? Yesterday morning?” Yesterday he was still less than coherent. “What did he say?”
Penn shrugged. “That there was no reason to worry and that he was sure I would see you soon.” She paused as if recalling his words. “And something odd about his not having enough ink and the clocks being off. His humor doesn’t always translate.”
Aziza was startled. He must have called after she’d left to go to the bakery. She forced herself to laugh, knowing she’d have to explain soon. But she didn’t want to. Not yet. “Are you really okay with this, Penn?”
Penn pushed her curls behind her ears before taking Aziza’s hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately. They both looked down and noticed the iron ring Aziza had placed on Penn’s finger for protection the moment she’d arrived. It had been her mother’s.
Her aunt shook their clasped hands lightly. “I told you I could handle this, and I can. You can have as many guests as you like, as long as I can keep an eye on you. Hill certainly doesn’t seem to mind. She’s been in the kitchen since you called from the road, over the moon that she’ll have a full table of mouths to feed. Luckily she always makes enough to feed a village. Even if the villagers are…well…you know.”
Aziza nodded and her grip tightened. “He can stay outside, you know. I have no problem telling him to stand guard, or to disappear completely if you’d like. What he did to you is unforgivable, but he
has
helped me, and he did say he wants to apologize.”
The last time Penn had seen Ram—was it only two days ago?—he’d taken over her body to speak to Aziza. Fear of him, of what happened, had made Aziza send Penn here in the first place. Now, though she wasn’t aware of it, he might be all that stood between her aunt and a killer.
No wonder Aziza’s head kept spinning and that nagging ringing in her ears refused to fade. Everything was happening so fast she was perpetually overwhelmed. Constant adrenaline was hard on the system.
“You believe him when he says he and his partner are here to protect you. I trust that.” Penn glanced over her shoulder toward the front door. “I
would
appreciate if they behaved normally in front of Hill. I didn’t tell her, you see. Maybe I should have but it’s…too much. Where would I start? Years ago I shared a little about your mum, about what she saw—I mean what I thought she
didn’t
see—and she was beside herself with worry. Wouldn’t let me come alone to…pay my respects. She’s really very sensitive, you know.”
Pay her respects. Her mother’s funeral. “Hillary doesn’t strike me as being overly sensitive.”
Penn lifted her eyebrow. “You’d be surprised.”
Greg came up behind Penn and pulled her into his arms. “There’s my girl. No promises about the normal, but we’ll do our best. And did I see horses?”
“You know you did.” Penn relaxed at his touch. Greg had that effect on people. “I told you Aziza’s grandparents were part centaur. Loved the beasts. And even with them gone, I couldn’t imagine this place without them.” Penn looked around and up at his face and frowned at what she saw there. “Gregory, what’s happened? You look…”
He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. “Rode hard? I’m fine, Penn. Glad to be here at last. It’s as beautiful as you described. Are you sure you don’t want to ditch your perfect girlfriend and let me move in with you instead?” he wheedled boyishly. “I’m handy to have around and I already know where I’ll plant my vegetable garden.”
“Pardon me, cowboy, but you shouldn’t monopolize the hostess.” Shev tapped on Greg’s shoulder until he turned around and revealed her to Penn’s gaze. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Shev purred. “Aziza, why didn’t you tell me your aunt was this young? She’s hardly older than you, is she? And absolutely gorgeous.”
Penn’s blue eyes widened and she blushed. “I—well, thank you…”
“Shev.”
“Shev.” Penn nodded and held out her hand. “You certainly have better manners than your partner. Welcome to my family’s home.”
“Yes, well, men are the same, regardless of species, aren’t they? I say who needs them?” Aziza stood behind her aunt and made a slashing motion across her throat, telling Shev without words not to mess with her. The evil seductress just smiled, holding Penn’s hand a moment longer than she needed to. “I already know I’m going to enjoy myself. But then, I usually do.”
“Penn…” Aziza redirected her aunt from Shev to the large man blocking all the light from the open door, “…I’d like you to meet Brandon Nash. He’s another friend of mine. I’m not sure if he’ll be staying the night yet.”
Her aunt’s eyes lit up, glancing meaningfully toward Aziza before reaching out to grab his hand. “Welcome,
Brandon
. May I call you Brandon?” She squinted at him, tilting her head back to look up into his eyes. “You look rather fit, don’t you? And familiar. Have we met?”
“Please do. And it’s entirely possible.” Brandon took her hand gallantly, lowering his head in a gesture of respect. “My Uncle Devlin has property not far from here. I find a way to visit him at least twice a year. The view is unparalleled.”
At Brandon’s words, Aziza’s head whipped around so rapidly she worried she may have thrown out her neck. She’d just been wondering how to introduce him. How to explain their odd relationship without making her aunt more uncomfortable than she already was.
Penn, this is
Brandon, my sexy stalker turned kidnapper. But it’s okay, because he’s kind of like a policeman and he’s hot.
Apparently he didn’t need her help.
Penn’s eyes widened and she laughed in delighted disbelief, wrapping his hand in both of her own. “
Devil?
Devil Nash is your
uncle
? You and I are practically related, you lucky thing.” She didn’t let go of his hand when she turned toward Aziza with a beaming, if confused, smile. “Did you meet him through your other friends or…?”
Aziza was amazed how one innocuous question could be filled with so much nuance. An entire conversation in a few simple words.
Is he one of them? How can he be when I know his family? How much does he know? Are you dating and if so, when did it happen and why didn’t you tell me?
She wasn’t sure how to answer any of those questions. Not here, in this fancy foyer that she was supposed to feel comfortable in. Not now, when everyone was watching her expectantly. When she needed to get these introductions over with so she could focus on protecting her curious aunt.
There was only one thing she could do. Deflect. “You know his uncle?”
Penn’s gaze told her this silent interrogation wasn’t finished. “I do. In fact, for a time, my father was our determined matchmaker. He would have loved Devil for a son-in-law. Unfortunately, instead of falling head over heels, we bonded over fishing and rock operas and became mates. The best of friends. In fact, he’s the one who introduced me to—”
“His grateful cousin,” Hillary finished Penn’s sentence, drying her hands on a small towel as she came toward them from what must be the direction of the kitchen. “Aziza, we’re so glad you came home at last.”
Aziza watched the tall, elegant woman moving closer, marveling as always at her classic beauty. In jeans and an oversized, white button-down shirt, she still looked as regal as if she were in a formal gown. Even her hair, the color of sable with the shimmer of silk, fell to her shoulder in perfect waves, parted so her bangs swooped artfully over one hazel eye. A hazel eye flecked with gold…reminding her less of Greg’s now and more of Brandon’s.
If Hillary was the cousin of Brandon’s uncle—
but no
—were they actually related? She studied her aunt’s significant other through new eyes.
Everything about her was poised and put together. So different from the boisterous, messy Penn. The lady and the tramp, Penn often joked. But it had always worked for them.
When they came to Dallas after Aziza’s mother died, it was Hillary who’d helped them take care of all the details and earned Aziza’s undying gratitude. Penn had been in charge of hugs and memories of better days. She’d tried to convince Aziza to come to England then, but Joseph was still in high school and her mother’s fear-filled voice was still ringing in her ears, so Aziza had said no.
If she’d come all those years ago, would she have met Brandon?
She wondered how she would have reacted to meeting someone as imposing then. The nineteen-year-old Aziza would never have been able to handle him. She glanced over to see his reaction to Hillary’s appearance, but he was looking at her instead.
She could handle him now.
But you aren’t sure.
“Brandon, how is your father?” Hillary interrupted, drawing Aziza’s attention. “I haven’t spoken to him in several days.”