“Barely,” she croaked as she got out of bed. Her throat still felt scratchy, but her voice sounded marginally better than last night.
Last night.
It came back to her in a rush—the thick smoke, the violent flames. She’d been lucky.
Someone had set that fire specifically. They’d meant to hurt her.
Problem was, she didn’t know what to do about it. And the only bargaining chip she had was the identity of three people she loved.
Someone had set her cleaned clothing on the chair in the corner. She wrinkled her nose at the subtle scent of smoke as she got dressed. If a washing hadn’t cleaned the smoke out of these clothes, all the stuff in her apartment was garbage.
After she washed her face and pulled her hair into a ponytail, she worked her way downstairs. At some point she had to figure out what to do about the tenure. Thank goodness she’d taken her laptop with her. Otherwise her thesis would have gone up in flames with the rest of her things.
She had a shift this evening at the Pour House on top of everything.
Sigh.
Wondering if any bus lines came out to Sea Cliff, she walked into the kitchen. No one around, she drifted out into the hall.
She heard a thump and some heavy breathing coming from the back of the house. Gabe and Rhys making out? Driven by curiosity, she went to investigate.
It was just Rhys working out in a room that looked much like Max’s rec room. The only difference was that one wall was covered in an assortment of weapons.
Rhys was topless again—or still—and was doing some sort of exercise that looked very much like what Max had been practicing on the beach. Except he used his hands instead of a sword.
He must have felt her presence, because he stopped and turned to face her, picking up a towel to wipe sweat from his face. “You’re up. Sleep well, darling?”
“Like the dead.” She smiled at him, hoping her weariness wouldn’t show. She’d been plagued by dreams where she was sinking in water and unable to surface. What she’d give to have the old water/sex dreams with Max back.
Rhys surveyed her with his all-seeing gaze—so much like the way Max always studied her. A small pang of longing shot through her heart.
He walked to her, and even that predator grace of his reminded her of Max. She shook her head. Pathetic. But the similarities were uncanny, down to the birthmark they shared.
Birthmark.
Frowning, she remembered the passage in Wei Lin’s journal where he described marking the Guardians. She’d thought he meant it figuratively, but maybe it was literal. Two genetically disparate people having the same birthmark was improbable.
Did Gabe have one, too? Carrie wished she could ask, but she couldn’t without giving away what she knew. And without alerting them that she had the list of Guardians.
Rhys cocked an eyebrow. “You all right, darling?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, feeling far from it. She had the find of the ages, and she couldn’t share it with anyone. Plus, it seemed her life was in danger because of it. “Thank you for taking me in. I hate imposing on you like this.”
He arched his brow, taking a swig from a water bottle. “There’s no imposition between friends.”
“Still.” One of the swords on the wall caught her eye. She went over to it. It looked so similar to—
“We need to discuss what happened and our course of action,” Rhys said, disrupting her chain of thought.
“I really appreciate you giving me shelter for the night, but there’s nothing to discuss.” She turned to face him. “My place caught fire. I’m going to get it cleaned up and call it that.”
“And if you get hurt the next time?” He slipped a shirt over his head and came to stand next to her.
“There won’t be a next time. It was probably faulty wiring,” she said, hopefully with enough surety so that he’d believe the lie. Because if she admitted that someone had been threatening her, she’d also have to admit why, and that could cost her Rhys and Gabe’s friendship, not to mention put them in danger, too. Carrie couldn’t have that. “The building is old and probably not up to code. A fire was bound to happen.”
Rhys’s stare told her he didn’t buy that for one minute.
“I keep telling you, you shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of me.”
“It’s what one does for someone one is particularly fond of,” he said mildly.
“Are you fond of me?”
“You’re ours now, darling.” He tugged her ponytail.
Her nose tingled with tears. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
Rhys smiled. Then he tossed his sweaty towel in a bin and said, “I took the liberty of making some calls.”
She groaned.
“It appears there was a gas leak. The leak was caused by someone cutting a gas line,” Rhys said gently. “A repairman had been there recently, so it could have been him. However, no fingerprints were left. It seems bizarre that a repairman would bother to wipe his prints.”
She made a noncommittal noise even though she couldn’t help agreeing.
Rhys reached up, drawing a finger along the sword on the wall. “Gabe says you’ve developed a relationship with Max.”
Looking at the sword, she suddenly knew why it seemed familiar—it was just like the one Max had. “You can’t think he’s behind this.”
“Can’t I?” he asked in a deceptively reasonable tone.
“Of course not. He has no reason.” Except that he had a history of going through her things. And it was possible he’d found out she still had one of the scrolls. She bit her lip.
Facing her, he rubbed a finger over the ridge of the scar that bisected the corner of his mouth. “It seems that maybe you’re having doubts yourself.”
“It just seems that, even if he had motives, he wouldn’t have to resort to this kind of extreme.”
“This kind of extreme is precisely what he’d enjoy.” Rhys leaned on his elbows, his gaze intense. “Seven years ago Max vowed he’d do anything to exact revenge from me, and I can’t help but think he’s using you to get to me.”
Yeah, he would have—at one time. Max admitted as much himself. But she couldn’t even consider the possibility—deep down, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. “He didn’t set the fire.”
“You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Oh, she thought she had a pretty good idea. “Did you really plot with Max’s girlfriend to betray him?”
Rhys stilled, motionless like a cautious predator. “Why do you ask?”
“Max told me what happened.”
“
Max
told you?” Shock and disbelief warred on his face. “What precisely did he say?”
“That you turned on him and corrupted the woman he was dating. That you seduced her into stealing something from him.”
He smiled, a cold and humorless twist of his lips. “Difficult to corrupt what’s already rotten. Amanda had nefarious designs on him. Max had unwisely told her things about himself that he should have kept secret.”
That he was a Guardian? Carrie couldn’t picture him revealing that—unless he’d cared about the woman, but she couldn’t make herself believe that he had. The few times Max had mentioned the past, he’d been more focused on Rhys’s betrayal than anything else.
Which meant the woman must have used sex to pry the information out of him, and that pissed Carrie off big-time.
“And she pit us against each other,” Rhys continued. “I imagine she thought she could carry out her schemes while we fought each other. It worked, too well. Max swore one day he’d make me regret what happened. Harming you would do that.”
“It’s not Max.” She shook her head. “He could have taken care of me anytime while I lived with him. He had ample opportunity. Or he could have tortured me to death and left my body to rot when he came to visit me a couple days ago.”
Rhys’s face went cold. “He’s here? In San Francisco?”
“Yeah.” She frowned at the menace in his voice. “It’s still a free city, right?”
“Shite.” Rhys strode to the room’s entrance and hit a button on a panel she hadn’t seen. There was a crackle, and then he said, “Brian, in the workout room please.”
Brian entered the room almost in seconds. “You called, boss?”
Rhys simply said, “Max Prescott is in town.”
The natural smile faded from the man’s face.
“We’ll need to make arrangements. Gabe—”
Brian held a hand up. “No worries there.”
“We’ll have to arrange something for Clothilde, as well. And Carrie, of course.”
“Why me of course?” she asked, her gaze ping-ponging between the two men. She didn’t get why she’d be classified with Clothilde La Rochelle, either. Madame La Rochelle was Gabe’s mentor.
Rhys continued as if she wasn’t there. “I’ll hire someone unobtrusive for Clothilde, but Carrie—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Brian said.
“Take care of what?” she asked louder.
He had the nerve to reach out and pat her head. “Don’t worry yourself about it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like what you have planned?”
“Just a little extra protection, sweetheart.” Brian turned to his boss. “Will that be all?”
“For now.” He nodded. “Thanks.”
“I don’t get it,” Carrie said, watching Brian leave. She turned to Rhys. “Why the crazy reaction to Max? You guys obviously have history together. Good as well as bad. Look at that sword.”
His eyes went to it before he studied her. Finally he said, “How do you mean?”
“Max said you guys were like brothers. That sort of bond doesn’t just fade away. Even your swords match.”
Rhys looked at it. She didn’t think he was going to say anything, but then in a low voice he admitted, “Max made that for me.”
“No way.” She blinked at the sword. Stunning. An artist had crafted it, and it was hard picturing Max as that person, for some reason. “Seriously?”
“Max has an affinity for metalwork.”
Guardian of the Book of Metal. She wondered what other skills he kept hidden, and if he’d ever tell her. She pursed her lips, studying the sword.
Rhys took her elbow. “Let’s find you some breakfast.”
Brian was on the phone in the kitchen when they walked in. He nodded at Rhys, communicating more than she understood. Part of which must have included food for her, because Brian set a skillet on the stove without hanging up.
“What am I missing?” Gabe said as she breezed in. Socking Brian in the arm, she went to stand next to Rhys. He slid his arm around her waist, so possessively Carrie would have sighed if she weren’t so befuddled.
Rhys snaked his hand into Gabe’s long, loose hair and tugged her head back for a searing kiss.
Carrie knew she should have turned her head to give them privacy, but Brian stared, a goofy, proud grin on his face, so she decided she’d stare, too. Hard to turn away from that much passion.
She thought of Max for the millionth time that morning, and her heart constricted.
When they pulled apart, Gabe still had her hand over Rhys’s heart, and he looked like he wanted to toss her onto the counter and have his way with her.
Gabe smiled at her and then turned back to Rhys. “What are you plotting now? I hope it’s helping Carrie get her apartment together and not acquiring another company.”
He stroked her back until she was almost purring. “Carrie is going to be staying here with us.”
“Cool,” Gabe said at the same moment Carrie exclaimed, “No way.”
They all turned to look at her.
“Rhys thinks Max was responsible for the fire, and now he wants to put me under lock and key,” Carrie explained, knowing her friend would understand how distasteful that was and back her up.
Gabe nodded. “He reacts that way when one of his little chicks is threatened.”
“So you agree with me that it’s completely ludicrous?”
“No, actually I think his plan is a good one. Only until we figure out what’s going on.”
She threw her hands up. “This is ridiculous. Max isn’t going to hurt me.”
“Not physically, maybe, but what’s to say this isn’t one of his games?” Gabe arched her eyebrows. “You yourself told me how he played you before.”
Rhys stilled. “What did he do?”
She shot her friend an exasperated look. “Did you have to mention that?”
“You’ve got to lay the facts out.”
Carrie shook her head, refusing the tea Brian held out to her. “You guys, I really appreciate your concern, but if you’re making a big deal out of it because of Max, that’s just wrong. And you’re not taking into account that I’m a grown woman.”
“So what you’re saying is you want us to butt out,” Gabe summarized succinctly.
“Pretty much.”
Her friend studied her for a long, silent minute and then tapped Rhys. “You heard the woman. You need to back off.”
“Gabrielle—”
“No.” She put a finger over his lips. “This is her decision, and as much as we don’t agree with it, we have to respect it.”
Brian crossed his arms. “That sucks.”
Carrie got up and patted his massive arm. “I promise I’ll let you guys dictate every step I take if anything else happens. But I really think this was random,” she lied, thinking of Trevor.