Lucca (5 page)

He locked up his place and headed out into
the courtyard. A fountain sporting a ridiculous cherub on top,
stood as the focal point. Brick benches curved around the rim of
it, allowing the tenants a place to lounge. The landscape was kept
fresh and trimmed by a gardener. Overall, the place had a homey
appeal.

His gaze caught sight of the hydrangea plant
with its pink clustered flowers. There had been a
‘for rent’
sign in front of it a few days ago. Its absence meant he had a new
neighbor across the way. God, he hoped they didn’t have any
children. He shivered at the thought. Children were worse than
Hashasheen demons when it came to high pitch screams for no reason
other than to hear their own voices.

He shoved opened the wrought iron gate
leading out to the street, letting it close behind him. With his
hands in his pockets, he strolled at a quick pace toward his
destination. He should have donned a jacket. The wind proved brisk,
the temperature dropping again from a few hours ago. The cold
seeping through his clothing felt like tiny fingers searching for
an entrance into his body.

Finally reaching his destination, he entered
the mini-mart taking note of who had ventured out to make a last
minute purchase before settling down for the night. An older man
with a gray beard stood in front of the freezer section, staring at
the fudge-sickles and the pints of ice cream. Two teenage boys were
browsing the chip aisle and chatting about the new girl in
school.

He slipped into the third aisle where he
knew the chocolate chip cookies were stashed. The bell chimed,
letting him know someone else had entered the mart. His freakish
height of six-foot five came in handy now and again. He could
easily see who had entered. He nearly dropped the cookies, having
to fumble with the box to keep it from hitting the floor. The scent
curled around him, teasing him.

“No, it can’t be.” His voice remained low
and in control, but his heart decided to pick up the pace. The
woman and the boy from the Laundromat stood in the entryway. Wasn’t
it his cursed luck to step out for cookies the same time she
decided to go grocery shopping? Why this mart? Why now? His brows
drew together in suspicion. Shouldn’t her son be in bed by now? He
glanced at his watch. It was almost nine-thirty. It seemed like a
good time for a child to be fast asleep.

She headed down one of the aisles and he
ducked down. He actually crouched down to hide. When had he turned
into a pansy? It’s just a woman, a female human at that. So she
smelled good enough to make him want to do all kinds of sinful
things, he didn’t have to hide from her. He squeezed his eyes shut,
trying to convince himself he ducked because he feared what he
might do. He didn’t trust himself around her. His lips pursed
together. That didn’t sound right either. Her sweet scent of mint,
rosemary, and something entirely female tickled his nose, still
enticing, but he reined in the desire to take her.

Stand up, you pansy arse. This is no way
for a warrior to behave.
His father’s voice echoed from the
past, sending a chill down his spine. He stood before he could stop
himself, the command from his subconscious just as lethal as if the
abusive bastard stood next to him. Until tonight, he hadn’t thought
about his father in a long time, centuries in fact. He didn’t like
it one bit. It was the damn female’s fault, making him doubt
himself and dredging up a time in his life he wished to forget.

He straightened his back. The female’s scent
was the most tantalizing fragrance he had the graces to encounter.
Ever
. But he could surely pretend to be indifferent. He’d
been an actor from time to time through the centuries, performing
on grand stages. He could do this. “All the world’s a stage.” Or so
William Shakespeare
had thought.

The woman, with the boy beside her, already
stood in line with a carton of eggs, milk, and bread. His steps
didn’t falter as he strode to the counter to check out, taking his
place behind them.

The human boy turned as if sensing his
presence. He thought the kid would fear him once he recognized him
as the
all-kinds-of-crazy
guy down at the Laundromat, but he
didn’t flinch. His big silver-blue eyes regarded him in a curious
manner. The boy was scrawny and he sniffled as if he had allergies
or the starting of a cold. The woman was busy with the clerk and
didn’t pay attention to the boy.

Lucca stared back, glaring was more like it,
with hopes of staunching the boy’s curiosity.

The boy’s lips curved into a brazen smile.
Was the male child not right in the head? His notorious glare set
the bravest warriors cowering.

“You’re really big,” the boy spoke the
obvious. Like he didn’t already know this. “Just like my father,”
the boy told him as he blew his nose into a Kleenex. He shoved the
offensive cloth in his coat pocket.

Lucca grunted. Taking in the boy’s scrawny
appearance, he highly doubted he resembled the child’s father. His
gaze shifted to the female, wondering what the holdup was.

He found her digging in her purse for the
money to pay for her groceries, bringing out pennies. She had to be
kidding. What did she do, rob the piggy bank before trotting down
here to make a purchase?

“Dear Lord, at this rate, my food will
spoil.” The words flew from his mouth before he could stop himself.
He only had cookies and the cereal box he had grabbed on his way to
the front. So, the statement fell short. His hand whipped out his
credit card. “Here, put it on my bill.” He shoved his items on the
counter, too.

The woman shook her head. Her eyes grew
wider as she stared at him. “I couldn’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He narrowed his gaze on the
clerk. “Do it.”

This was a new employee and Lucca figured he
might as well make a grand first impression. The clerk’s Adam’s
apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

At least he had the decency to recognize the
danger of crossing him. He glanced at the human boy who stared at
him with— Dear Lord, was that admiration?

The female smoothed loose reddish strands
away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “Well, I thank
you. I’ll pay you back.”

Great, now he had her gratitude. He waved
her off. She couldn’t pay him back when he planned on never seeing
her again. His gaze lingered on her longer than deemed necessary,
catching how the light shone off her reddish blonde hair, hanging
in waves around her fine features. Her eyes were the color of
emeralds, framed by thick lashes. Something stirred in his chest,
his heartbeat changed—stopped and started again. He forced his
attention elsewhere before he could speak. His voice was a hoarse
whisper as if he swallowed a shot of whiskey before speaking.
“Don’t think anything of it. I shan’t.”

Her features changed from one of gratitude
to…recognition. So she hadn’t recognized him straight off. Then
again he’d cleaned up a tad.

“It’s you,” she accused.” She grabbed her
groceries and reached for the boy’s hand. “Shouldn’t you be at home
sleeping?”

His gaze riveted to hers, his eyes
narrowing. “I’m not taking any medications, woman,” he snapped,
remembering what Gideon had said to her in the Laundromat.

“Okay, but the—” She didn’t finish the
sentence. “Really, it’s none of my business. Thank you, for this.”
She lifted the bag of groceries. “Have a good evening.” She whirled
around, dragging the boy behind her.

The boy kept staring at him with a goofy
grin.

“Definitely, Fae touched,” he murmured. He
wondered if he could use the term without people jumping all over
him for not using a politically correct phrase. Hell, he didn’t
even know what the correct phrase was. He missed the days when he
could call it how it was and not sugarcoat every word.

“Sir, your groceries.”

He turned to stare at the clerk and then
remembered why he’d ventured out to the mini-mart in the first
place. His hand grasped the bag and he hurried out of the
store.

He glanced across the street and to the
right, but the woman and the boy were nowhere in sight. “Of course,
they took a car.” The majority of people in this century didn’t
walk. One would think their legs were useless appendages.

“What were you going to do if they were
walking?” He left the question unanswered and turned toward home.
He took two steps before his gaze landed on the figures ahead of
him. His feet faltered for half a second. What were the chances
that she would be heading in the same direction, and on foot, no
less? “Next to nil.” Suspicion laced its way through his thoughts
again. Maybe the Hashasheen demons sent her to seduce him, make him
let down his guard and lead them to where the Tomes of Nasarm were
hidden. He snorted at the ludicrous thought.

Hashasheen demons weren’t into seducing
their victims. They like blades and poison, not aphrodisiacs. He
didn’t even know the woman’s name but he knew her scent of mint,
rosemary and… “Sunshine.” Not many knew sunshine had an aroma of
freshness like flowers opening their petals for the first time,
allowing the scent to escape. The woman had the perfect shade of
hair to compliment the scent, too.

He shook his head, disgusted with his pansy
head-in-the-clouds
attitude. He couldn’t let her comely face
and her essence make him lose focus. She could be dangerous. Hell,
she already proved so with her power to distract him.

Chapter Seven

Juliet wished she’d taken the car now. The
good-looking guy with the great hair didn’t exactly put her at
ease. He offered, no, he demanded to pay for her groceries. She had
the money—in her other purse. Stopping at the mini-mart was a last
minute decision. The purse she brought held only the coins for the
Laundromat. The other purse sitting nice and pretty on her kitchen
table held her credit cards.

The man’s actions should put her on guard.
Sniffing her hair—what was that about anyway? And the way he looked
at her as if she was a tasty morsel should tell her he’s trouble,
but the weird thing was she liked the attention. There was
something off kilter with her tonight. Trusting anyone, especially
a human, proved an issue. She knew that. Yet, all of a sudden her
body didn’t seem to take her seriously.

Her gaze lingered on her nephew. His light
hair was the shade of moonbeams, almost white like his mother’s had
been, but his eyes were Raziel’s, a shade of silver blue. The shade
was brighter in its radiance than any human eye color, but with
contacts having an array of unnatural colors to choose from, no one
noticed. Owen was a beautiful child, sweet tempered, and she loved
him as her own. Why Heaven would want to destroy him, she would
never understand.

Archangels hunted Raziel, wanting him to
give up the child, but they also wanted his head for sending them
through the portal. Leroy had told her this. Raziel knew the magic
of the portals between worlds—time travel. Owen and she were proof
it was possible.

She was a modern woman, holding down a job
as an equal with men and making her way in the world as a single
mother. All were oddities in her time, but here no one batted an
eye. Raziel may have used his angelic powers to download centuries
of advance technology and whatnot, but she still longed for the
simpler life of her time. She feared one day she would forget her
other life entirely.

Maybe it would be for the best. A sigh left
her with a heavy heart. She could never go back. Her hand squeezed
Owen’s small one. Her brows furrowed, wondering why such melancholy
thoughts had plagued her this evening.

“Auntie Jules?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is the man from the mini-mart following
us?”

“What?” Her gaze riveted to him then she
peered over her shoulder. The tall wide-shouldered man strolled at
a leisurely pace with his one bag dangling from his fingertips.
They weren’t far from home, but not close enough to run if the man
chose to pursue them. Then of course, she could always pull out her
gun from beneath her coat and just shoot him.

Well, maybe not. She’d have to explain to
her superiors why she shot a man out for a stroll. Saying he
sniffed her hair wouldn’t qualify as a motive.

The guy must have sensed her fears. He
lifted his free hand in mock surrender. “I mean you no harm.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” she said under
her breath, making Owen chuckle.

“It’s a good thing I am not a spider and you
are not a fly,” the man responded.

Her brows drew together. She hadn’t thought
he was close enough to hear her. “Why are you following us?”

His low chuckle vibrated from his chest in a
pleasant, nonthreatening mode of amusement. “I don’t live far from
here. I would ask you the same thing if you weren’t walking in
front of me.”

“We don’t live far from here either.” All
her training for this century and Raziel’s warnings should have
cautioned her to stay away from this man. If not those warnings,
his large structure should intimidate her, and his surly
disposition should tell her to stay clear of him as well, but call
it womanly intuition, the warning bells remained silent.

He caught up to them now. Tall, fierce, and
perhaps a bit on the arrogant side—he knew he turned heads and made
no qualms about it, but something happened lately that put a kink
in his armor. His hesitant smile, the way he shoved his hand in his
pocket spoke of a man unsure of himself for perhaps the first time.
She had a hunch it wasn’t the obvious fight he’d been in earlier.
His scrapes and bruises didn’t look as pronounced as they did at
the Laundromat. His damp hair told her he took a shower before
venturing out again.

“I live at the Courtyard Apartments.” He
nodded in the direction they were walking.

“We just moved in there.” Her frown
deepened. What were the odds?