Drawing Deep (11 page)

Leaving her clothes on the bathroom floor as ordered, Ria carried only her purse and hiking boots as she crossed the laundry room. Hushed whispers reached her ears. She caught the words “Rome”, “masking scent” and “hiding” and it made her pause. Silently she made her way to the edge of the doorway, all the better to eavesdrop.

“Hiding what she is? What on earth are you talking about?”

Footsteps of someone pacing caused her to squeeze further back behind the shallow door-frame, straining to hear the bits and pieces of conversation.

“We don’t know if she’s human, Mom.”

Ria’s heart sputtered to a stop.

The sound of pouring liquid. “So?” A calm dismissal as Melinda let a perfect opportunity to reveal her suspicions skate on by. Ria sagged in relief.

“So? So why is she hiding what she is?”

“Everyone deserves some measure of privacy, Santos, or do you run around telling the world you’re a jaguar shifter?”

Ria closed her eyes and eased her head against the wall at her back. Jaguar. Yes that fit. A beautiful and deadly predator. Swift, silent, lethal. She bet he was gorgeous in his feline form and felt a pang of sorrow that she would never see him thus.

“That’s not what I mean. Besides, she smells different now then she did yesterday.”

Affronted, Ria sniffed at herself. Frowned.

“Fear, adrenaline changes...”

“No.” His sharp retort was so low Ria nearly fell over straining to hear. “It’s deeper.”

“Deeper?”

“Blood deeper.”

A soft clunk as a plate landed on the kitchen table with a little more force then necessary. “Quit stalling and spit it out.”

A pause followed by the sound of a scraping chair over the hard floor. “She might be a vamp.”

Ria slammed a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp of alarm. Mentally all she could think was,
shit, shit, shit.

“And that bothers you for some reason?”

A rustle of material. “No. What
bothers
me is that she feels the need to hide. I understand taking precautions, but masking one’s scent? That’s above and beyond.”

Not when trying to stay out of your demented family’s radar,
Ria thought, fighting off a giggle that bordered on hysteria.

“Darling, you haven’t even known her for two full days.”

“More than that,” came his growled reply.

Melinda sighed. “Whatever. Trust takes time
and
,” she stressed the last word, “if you’re right and she’s aware of what you boys are, then her wariness is natural. The first thing I did after your father told me what he was, and that I was his mate, was run.”

A moment of quiet filled the room. “Funny you should say that.”

“Why?”

“Underneath all those false scents, she was. That is. What the hell are you grinning at me for?”

Ria never found out why Melinda was smiling because the kitchen door burst open at that moment and Rome’s voice boomed in the room. “We’re dying of thirst out there, Mom. What’s the holdup?” A pause. “Why do I smell blood?”

Ria jumped at the sudden intrusion and skittered from the doorway, but the linoleum in the laundry room was too slick for her quickly moving stockinged feet and she slid, her boots soaring from her hands as she tried to steady herself, only to land with a series of thuds several feet away. Through luck, and a bout of additional sock sliding, she was across the room, bending to pick up one of the flyaway boots just as two large males poked their heads in the room. With a wan smile, she snagged the other one.

“You okay?” Santos came to her side, taking her shoes from her.

“Yeah, just a klutz.”

Santos looked her over. Apparently finding nothing suspicious, he settled his hand on her back, guided her past a frowning Rome and into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Rome asked as his brother pulled out a chair at the large wood table for Ria to sit in.

“Some asshole attacked Ria at the airport.”

“What?!”

Melinda pushed a plate of cookies toward Ria. “She’s fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Santos remained standing at Ria’s back, one hand on her right shoulder.

Bodyguard or warden?

Not entirely comfortable, especially under Rome’s intense gaze, Ria snagged a cookie and nibbled.

“What happened?” When Ria didn’t answer right away, Santos did.

A sense of electricity filled the air and Rome gnashed his teeth. “I hope his balls are tangled in his throat.”

Ria choked on the cookie at Rome’s bloodthirsty response and reached for the glass of orange juice next to the plate. Santos moved his hand to rub her back.

“What did he look like? Did he say anything to you? What was he wearing? Any distinguishing marks, tattoos? We need to contact the police, see if the airport had any cameras out there. I need a pen and paper.”

A low throaty growl came from behind her, and she stiffened. The hand at her shoulder moved to her front and spread wide over the top of her chest. She stopped breathing. “Don’t,” Santos all but snarled.

Rome’s series of rapid questions ground to a halt, as did his pacing, and he narrowed his eyes at his older brother.

“Quit it, both of you, or I’ll get the hose.” It was Melinda who spoke up from the chair at Ria’s right, her tone pure steel. “Rome, Ria is not a suspect and Santos, cool your thrusters before I cool them off for you.”

The change in the room wasn’t immediate, but the energy level did ebb until Rome’s face softened with amusement. He turned to his mom. “You couldn’t catch us then, what makes you think you can catch us now?”

“Because I’ll have Gwen to help.” Sparks of laughter glittered in Melinda’s eyes.

“That’s just mean.” Rome shook his head and when he turned back to Ria, there was an apology on his face. “Sorry. Bad habit.”

Santos’s hand stroked through Ria’s hair. “Idiot still thinks he’s a cop.”

“A cop?” Ria’s eyes flew wide. A shifter cop?

“I was in the ATF for several years. Military before. It’s habit to take charge of a situation.”

A dominate trait, one that was reflected in the man behind her. Ria knew that, in their own way, each Felix male she’d met had a strong alpha streak. The hand Santos still had on her chest had her worried. Protective or possessive. Either way, it was unnerving. Not to mention what it was doing to her body. Then there was his other hand, which continued to thread through her hair.

There was no way he could miss the rapid beat of her heart, the way her skin was heating beneath his touch. Too much more of this and the desire forming low in long, liquid pulls would make itself known in lower, more intimate places.

Shifting uncomfortably, she crossed her arms over her middle. Bad move. It pulled the robe down slightly, and Santos’s hand settled more firmly on bare skin. She inhaled sharply through her nose, having locked her teeth together to keep the gasp of pleasure of escaping.

What was wrong with her? A simple touch, a simple kiss, and she was on fire. It had to be the blood high that was making her more sensitive. Nothing else made sense.

The kitchen door opened again and Gwen stepped inside. “What’s with the football game?” She asked when she saw everyone at the table. Then her eyes landed on Ria. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

Rome reached for Gwen’s hand. “Some asshole attacked Ria at the airport.”

“What? Oh my God!”

Before anything else was said, the door opened again. Wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and disappear, Ria closed her eyes and dropped her head back, only to have it smack on the hard male chest at her back.

“Hey,” Lance asked in the quiet and Ria’s opened her eyes to see him looking around the room before locking on her. His gaze moved unerringly to the bandage at her neck. “Cut yourself shaving?”

The question had everyone talking at once and the beginnings of a headache pinging between Ria’s eyes. She squeezed them shut. She wasn’t used to all this chaos, these interruptions. She was an archeologist for goodness sake. Sure there were moments of excitement, disappointment and even arguments, such as she’d had earlier with Chris. Even the occasional flight or fight scenario, but nothing like what the last couple of days had wrought.

She felt a hand on her knee and her eyes flew open to see Lance crouched at her side. “Who knew you were going to the airport?”

It was such an odd question that it took Ria a moment to realize that a low rumbling was coming from behind her, and that everyone else in the room had quieted to a sort of guarded attention. Three sets of eyes flicked between Lance and Santos with sudden stillness. The fingers on her chest flexed and she automatically brought her hand up to cover it. “Easy.”

Lance looked up at Santos, his lips pursing at whatever he saw. Though he had a tough core, he wasn’t nearly as strong as Santos, and he slowly removed his hand from her leg and straightened. “As my
friend
,” the word was stressed, “I’m concerned about her.”

Ria’s squinted up at her co-worker. Did Lance know what Santos was? What Rome was? By the careful way he edged back from Ria, she had a feeling he did.

Oh, but were they going to have a talk later on.

The rumbling at her back didn’t ease, and so to break the tension in the room – God she was so tired of these emotional upheavals – she answered Lance’s question. “Just you, Robby and Chris of course. Oh and that girl from the kitchen yesterday. Uhm. Sarah.”

All eyes now turned to her and she squirmed. “I grabbed some snacks before I headed out and she was in the dining room.”

Rome and Gwen shared a look before he asked Ria, “Do you recall anything odd the man at the airport said to you?”

Ria’s chin dropped. “Odd? Odd as in he was going to cut my throat if I screamed? I’d say that’s pretty odd.” Her voice had risen at the end.

“Easy, kitten.” Santos stroked his fingers through her hair again, petting her, calming her.

How very feline.

She turned her head to the side, muttering, “Yesterday I was a bunny,” because yeah, she’d looked up the word he’d called her on the internet, “and today I’m a kitten?”

His chuckle was low and did strange things to her libido. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear. “That was before I knew you had claws and weren’t afraid to use them.”

He sounded almost...proud. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she turned to Rome. “The guy was maybe five-ten, no more than six feet. Brown hair and eyes. Plain. Almost forgettable. No distinguishing marks or tattoos that I saw.” She sucked in more air. “He did mention that someone wanted to talk to me.” She didn’t add that the man also intended to rape her, as she had a feeling that would send the males in the room over the edge.

She also didn’t say that she had thought the man had meant her father was the individual who wanted to talk to her. Though she couldn’t understand why her family would send a human. She might only be half-vamp, but she was still stronger than a human male. Even with a weapon.

Her lips tightened when the others in the room all looked at each other, glances that were full of meaning. Even Lance knew what those silent messages were saying, and it irritated her.

That talk was definitely going to happen, and soon.

“The Palick sisters left this morning as did the Marsh family. The rest, other than Lance and Ria here, will be leaving tomorrow.” Melinda finally spoke.

“And no one else until Thursday.” Rome added thoughtfully.

Melinda sighed. “I’d hate to cancel, but I will if you think it necessary.”

Rome frowned. “Security’s pretty tight here. As long as no one leaves on their own, I think we’re okay.” He set his eyes on Santos. “We’ll do patrols to make sure.”

“What?” Ria asked. Not only did it seem to be the word of the day, she hated being in the dark. “What’s going on?”

Santos settled both hands on her shoulders. “We’ve had some...trouble in the past.”

Ria waved that away. “Yes, I know. Treasure hunters with guns chasing down Rome and Gwen. What does that have to do with me? Oh.” She paused, frowned. “If anyone knows we’re doing active digging, then we’ve become targets. Great.”

The hands on her shoulders tightened. “No one will get to you again, Ria. I promise.”

She bit the inside of her bottom lip, thinking, not of the dig, but of safety from her father.

A long, loud whistle sounded from outside followed by intense shouting.

“What the hell is that?” Santos groused.

“Oh. The football game.” Melinda said. “I was coming in to get drinks when you called, Santos.”

“And I came in to see what the holdup was.” Rome added.

“A football game?” Ria asked.

Lance nodded. “Yeah. We were doing some digging behind his place,” he flicked his thumb at Santos, “when Chris spied those two teen boys messing around with a football. He got the bright idea of starting a game, intending to get them so tired out that they’d sleep the night away. Said something about how, with those kids on one side of his room and a crying baby on the other, he hadn’t slept since he got here.”

Melinda glared at Rome. “That’s why you switched his room? To be cruel?”

Unrepentant, Rome shrugged. “I didn’t like him. I still don’t. He’s arrogant and narcissistic.”

“That doesn’t make what you did right, Rome.” Melinda chided her son.

“He deserves it,” Lance pipped in, and ignoring Ria’s warning glare, added with a wicked smile, “he gives Ria hell all the time because she won’t sleep with him.”

“Lance!” Ria sputtered while everyone else gaped at her.

“I’ll kill him.” Santos drew away from Ria, stalked toward the kitchen door, flung it wide and stepped through.

“Santos!” Melinda stood up and called after her son, to no avail. “Oh dear.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t kill him.” Rome said, following his brother.

“Uh.” Gwen looked from Ria to Lance to the door and back again. “This could be bad.” And she too bolted out the door.

“And where do you think you’re going, trouble maker?” Ria stood as well, hands on hips to snarl at Lance as he headed out.

“Are you kidding? This’ll be the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”

Bloodbath more like it. Ria skirted around the table to follow as well, only to have her arm grabbed by Melinda.

“You can’t go outside like that. Santos will have a fit.”

Ria glanced down, having forgotten she was naked under the thick robe. Then she looked at the open door. “But...”

“No buts. You go out there like that, and in the mood my son is in, he’ll just throw you over his shoulder and drag you up to your room. Probably lock you in for good measure.” At Ria’s wide eyed disbelief, Melinda clucked her tongue and shoved Ria’s purse and boots at her. “Believe me, honey, it’s not a dignified position, nor is it comfortable. If we hurry, we might just get you dressed and back outside before he grinds your boss into dust.”

Though she could have broken Melinda’s hold, she could all too easily see the sensibility behind the other woman’s words. She had absolutely no desire to be tossed over a brawny shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

As they hurried from the kitchen, Melinda questioned her the whole way as to why in the world she was still working for “that” man.