“For a man who has no experience being in a relationship,
you certainly know the right things to say.” She sniffed and blinked away the
threat of building tears.
“I meant every word. I’m not trying to manipulate you.” He
stepped back.
“Oh, I know.” She jerked her head back to him. “That’s not
what I was saying.” With her index finger, she wiped the area under her eyes. “It’s
just…I…I’ve never had a man in my life who truly put me first.” Shayla sealed
the distance between them and placed her palms to his chest. “Creed Donovan,”
she began. “You are so worth any inconvenience or sacrifice. Don’t worry about
me. I’m going to be fine.” She rubbed her palm over his sternum, doing her best
not to think about what would happen if they couldn’t get the locator out of
him. What the hell she’d do if they did, and he didn’t survive. “We need to put
all our energy into coming up with a plan on how to keep you here—and alive.”
“That would be the more preferable alternative.” He quirked
a smile.
“Yes.” Shayla pushed away and turned for the door. “Oh wait!”
She braked, spun on her heels, and went back to her desk. “I can’t believe I
almost walked out of here without it.”
“What are you talking about?” Creed moved in the few steps
to the edge of her desk.
Shayla peeled back the lid to the music box that had sat
next to her laptop. “My good luck charm.”
“A good luck charm?” The humor in Creed’s voice could not be
missed.
“Don’t you dare laugh.” She shot him a look that said,
You’ll
regret it.
But the slight smile on his face told her he wasn’t the least
bit afraid.
She scooped the pendant from the velvet-lined base of the
box. “My grandfather gave this to me when I graduated high school. He said it
had brought him luck, it was now mine, and he hoped it would bring me as much
happiness as it had him.”
Shayla held up the intricately designed amulet. She’d always
loved the look of it. The platinum-like finish had an antique feel with its
elaborate twists and turns of the vine-like overlay, yet so modern at the same
time. The reverse side was flat with a narrow black band that she’d never been
able to quite figure out its purpose. She often marveled at the talent needed
to create such a beautiful piece of art.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” She glanced over at Creed and her
stomach dropped. All the color had drained from his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Who did you say gave you that?”
Reflex had her fingers closing in on the charm. “My
grandfather. Why?” Her heart rate spiked, making her tremble.
“May I look at that, please? Hold it?” Creed held out his
palm.
“Okay…” She came from behind the desk and placed it in his
hand.
He stared down at the pendant as if it had just dropped from
the surface of Mars.
“Creed…” Her pulse roared in her ears. He was scaring the
crap out of her. “What’s going on?”
Absently, he sidestepped until his legs hit the sofa, then
he plopped onto the surface. With the thumb and forefinger of his other hand,
he plucked the amulet from his palm and flipped it over, exposing the back. “Oh.
My. God.” His head slowly rocked from side to side. “What were the odds?”
“What?” Shayla cried out. “For God’s sake talk to me.”
“Shayla…” His gaze flicked to hers and he barked out a
laugh. “Your ‘lucky charm’ is the time amulet the rebel stole from me last
week.”
Her jaw dropped. “You are kidding me, right?” She stumbled
forward, the only way to describe how she traveled from point A to point B and
landed on the cushion beside Creed.
His head cranked in her direction. “I rarely ‘kid’.” His
attention flipped back to the piece in his fingertips. “You know that.”
“Yeah. I know. But… How is that possible?” She scooted
closer, following his line of sight, searching for something more than what she’d
always seen as an ornate piece of jewelry. “Are you sure that’s it?”
Creed cocked his head at her, his expression screaming,
Really?
“Well…” she drawled. “It just doesn’t look big enough, or
high-tech enough to be a time-traveling device.”
“You know what they say, Shay, looks can be deceiving. And
the FOA played on that concept, not wanting it to be a red flag for its true
nature.” He sat back, bringing the pendant closer. “Right here.” Creed placed
an index finger to the back of the amulet. In the bottom corner, the letters
CMD were etched into the metal. “Those are my initials.”
“Oh shit.” Her hand went to her mouth, covering her lips. “All
this time, I’ve never really paid much attention. I thought they were the
jeweler’s mark.” She scanned his profile. “What does the ‘M’ stand for?”
“Michael. Creed Michael Donavan.”
“Does it still work?” The thought that she’d been holding a
time-travel device in her hands all these years was mind-boggling. What if she’d
activated it by accident?
“I’m sure the power levels are drained after years of
inactivity.” He toyed with the oval-shaped pendant, rotating it between his
fingers. “Each device is specifically keyed to recognize its owner’s DNA. The
moment it’s out of connection, it deactivates. A built-in safety mechanism to
prevent unauthorized personnel, or any other person who may pick it up, from
accidently triggering a warp. So the moment the rebel I’d been chasing ripped
it away from me, it shut down.”
“Creed!” Shayla went rigid. A warm blue glow radiated from
Creed’s palm. His attention swung to the device, and it went black.
“What happened?” Her gaze flicked between Creed and her
former lucky charm.
“I’d held it long enough that the residual charge detected
my signature and started activating its systems. It uses the owner’s base
electrical current to recharge its fuel cells. I shut it back down with a
thought.”
“You seem calm.” Shayla searched his features. “That wasn’t
a bad thing that it came on for a moment like that?”
Creed wrapped his fingers around the time-warping pendant,
and shook his head. “We should be fine. It wasn’t on long enough to call home.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “That’s why my locater has activated.
After so many days without a ping or call home by this,” he held up the amulet
between his fingers, “the Federation considers the enforcer lost or injured and
sends out the signal along his last known recorded warp stops, searching for
his locator. Once it hits its target, the locator switches on, emitting a
beacon.” He turned toward Shayla. “After that, it’s not long before they come
for you.” One midnight slash of a brow lifted. “It’s a beautiful system.” His
voice dropped low. “If you want to be found, that is.”
“Yeah. A thing of beauty.” She crossed her arms beneath her
breasts.
“The fact that this ended up in your hands, I have to ask my
next question…” His words trailed off, and blue eyes assessed the filigree once
more. “What is your grandfather’s name?”
Anxiety stewed in her gut like a thick soup, keeping her on
the edge of nausea. “Tom Maulders.” His name dropped from her lips and her
eyelids shuttered, waiting on the repercussion.
“Would Tom be short for Thomas?”
She lifted her lashes. “Yes.”
Creed’s head rolled forward. “What’s his middle name, Shay?”
Closing her eyes once more, she opened her mouth and relayed
the answer. “Thomas Guerry Maulders.”
Chapter Seven
“You’re his granddaughter…”
Creed stared out the passenger window of what Shayla called
her SUV.
“That’s what you keep saying,” Shayla muttered, her tone
unamused.
“How the hell did this happen?” It was a rhetorical
question, but it begged to be asked. “All this time…” His fist connected with
the door panel with a loud
thump
. “All this time, you knew him. Knew
where he was.” Creed’s jaw ached under the force he’d clamped against his
molars. “Son of a bitch,” he chewed out.
“What are you trying to say?” Her voice went up an octave.
“Do you really think I’d been holding out on you?” She slammed her palm against
the steering wheel, drawing his attention away from the blur of scenery. “I had
no idea my seventy-five-year-old grandfather, Tom, was the Thomas you were
looking for.” A long sigh escaped her lungs. “God. Really, Creed? Like I would
have instantly made that connection.”
“Christ.” He dropped his head back against the headrest and
groaned. “God, no. I don’t know what I’m saying. I know there’s no way you
could have made the connection. I’m sorry.” Creed dropped his head to the side,
staring at Shayla’s profile. “This was just the last thing I expected, and I’m
still reeling.”
“Are you regretting what happened?” One of her hands moved
to the gearshift lever, the knuckles blanching under her grip. “Is that what’s
going on? You wished you’d known a lot sooner before…” Shayla’s gaze flicked to
Creed before returning to the road. “Before things went as far as they did?”
Did he? Is that where the frustration at finding out his way
home had only been a six-hour drive away was coming from? Creed closed his
eyes, trying to categorize his emotions and stop the whirlwind in his head.
The image of Shayla sitting on the blanket at the river’s
edge fluttered to the forefront of his mind. The sunlight dancing through the
leaves of the oak tree with the breeze, highlighting the red notes in her hair.
Her eyes wide, bright, as she spoke of the joy she held in her heart for being
a mom—Maddie’s mom. Shayla laughing and turning her head toward him, the warmth
of her gaze enveloping him while she shared the precious moments in her life—with
him.
He opened his eyes, found her hand still on the shifter, and
covered her fingers with his own. “No.” Creed gave her a gentle squeeze. “I
don’t regret anything.” Shayla darted a glance in his direction. “You pulled
back the veil and allowed me to see the potential of the human race untethered.
Beneath and alongside the unleashed chaos and desire, there’s so much beauty
and joy to behold.” Creed reached over and brushed a dark lock from her cheek.
“Like you, Shay.” Her lips parted on a quick inhalation. “How could I ever
regret the days and nights I’ve spent with you?”
Shayla flashed him a tight smile. “I’ll never forget these
last few days either.” She swung her attention back to the road. “I wouldn’t
change a thing.” Shayla pulled her hand free and went back to the steering
wheel. “So you really think my grandfather will be able to help you disable the
tracking thing in your chest?”
Creed shifted in his seat, faced forward, then scrubbed a
palm over his face. “If anyone knows how this thing ticks, it’s Thomas. Whether
he can or is willing to do so with what he has on hand in the twenty-first
century is a question only he can answer.”
For the next couple of hours, Creed kept the conversation to
the basics of how much longer, food and facility stops. The tension in Shayla’s
body relayed that she had about as much as she could handle on her mind and
still focus on getting them there in one piece. After they arrived at Thomas’,
there would be plenty of time for the array of questions buzzing around in his
mind after he convinced Thomas to deactivate the chip in his chest, and he
survived the process.
The sun had drifted low in the horizon by the time they
pulled up in front of the condominium building on the coast of South Carolina.
According to Shayla, Thomas and his wife had decided to move to the beach when
they retired a few years ago. He’d been a successful biomedical engineer with a
large corporation.
Imagine that?
Since he’d also been the FOA scientist
responsible for the production of the locator vibrating behind his sternum.
Creed studied the front of the building with its whitewashed
plank walls. The dwelling wasn’t particularly high-end for someone who had led
a successful life.
“My grandparents were never much for grandstanding.”
Shayla’s statement caught him off guard and he glanced over
his shoulder.
“Odd that you would say that,” he said. “Since I was just
thinking for a man who was such a brilliant scientist in my time, I would have
thought his lifestyle here would reflect more status.”
“They both seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in the
simple things. I can still see Grandma on her hands and knees in her flower
garden, and Grandpa cutting the grass for years with a push mower when he
really needed a rider.” She laughed. “But for hours those two would work in the
sun with the biggest smiles on their faces. They didn’t seem to mind as long as
they were together.” Shayla tilted her head, surveying the four-story building
through Creed’s side of the car. “I’m sure they miss gardening, but both are
moving a little slower now.”
Creed flexed his fist from the strange mix of emotions
brewing in his gut. He was unaccustomed to owing anyone for anything. Hell, he’d
been practically groomed for leadership his entire life. Always in control of
his career. His destiny. But if it hadn’t been for Thomas’ impulsive act nearly
a week ago…
Yeah.
Creed worked his throat. The whole concept left a bad
taste in his mouth. But there was no way around it. He owed him one. He would
have never stumbled onto the beginnings of the rich life it sounded like Thomas
had found here if it hadn’t been for the meddling scientist.
The driver’s side door slammed, jarring Creed back into the
present. He grabbed his backpack, exited the car, and followed Shayla toward
the building where she bypassed the wooden stairs and punched the
up
button for the elevator.
Neither said a word on the ride to the third floor; it
wasn’t necessary. The silence, heavy with all the “what-ifs” filled the space
between them. Finally, a bell dinged, and the box came to a halt. As one, they
looked up, capturing each other’s gaze in a nonverbal “let’s do this” before
filing out.
The blue doors to the individual condos ticked off one by
one on his right like a countdown on some mystical clock on his future until
Shayla finally stopped at the sixth. The brass numbers read 412.
“This is it,” she said on an exhalation. Shayla reached up,
closed her fist, but hovered over the door as if waiting for the courage to
knock. Creed lowered his palm on her opposite arm and allowed it to follow the
slope down to her elbow.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said. She looked over
her shoulder and up from under her lashes, her eyes searching his. “I promise.”
Lips in a thin line, Shayla swung her gaze back to the door.
God, he hoped like hell that was a promise he could keep. Dread settled like a
bobbing iceberg in his gut, cold, growing, its crippling girth hidden beneath
the surface, waiting to rip a gaping hole into both their lives.
Seconds later, Shayla rapped on the wood, and a small voice
called out from the other side.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Shayla, Grandma.” The door popped open.
“Shayla!” A petite woman with straight white hair that
stopped just above her shoulders appeared in the doorway. Dark-brown eyes, so
much like Shay’s, lit with joy at the sight of her granddaughter. She gripped
Shayla by the forearms and pulled her into a hug. “I wasn’t expecting you, but
what a wonderful surprise.” Her gaze flicked up to Creed. “And who do we have
here?” A smile curled her mouth.
Pulling out of her grasp, Shayla lifted her hand to Creed.
“Grandma, this is—”
“Creed Donovan.” A male voice filled in the rest of the
introduction and had all heads swiveling in the other man’s direction. “I’ve
been expecting you.” He pivoted and started back toward where he’d come from.
“Took you long enough.”
Shayla gave Creed a hesitant glance, then swung her head
back in the direction of her grandmother’s surprised expression.
“Come in,” Mrs. Maulders added, finding her voice. She
stepped back. “Please.”
Creed followed her lead into the small family room that
contained a set of patio doors facing the inland waterway. Thomas stood staring
through the glass, his back to the room. The height was the same, Creed
surmised, but the years had added at least thirty pounds and removed a few
hairs from the top of his head. The once-thick crop of straight blond hair had
long been replaced by gray around the ears and a freckled scalp at his crown.
Thomas had his hands shoved into a pair of khaki shorts that ended at his knees
topped off by a pale-blue polo and a pair of white golf shoes on his feet.
“My apologies, Thomas, if we’ve interrupted your tee off,”
Creed said, breaking the ice, but making no effort to hide the sarcasm. He
tossed his backpack on a nearby chair.
Thomas pivoted about, one corner of his mouth twisted into
an effort at a grin. “So how are you doing, my old friend?”
Creed choked out a laugh, then rushed the other man, closing
the few feet between them. The sound of Shayla’s gasp, followed by his name,
filled the room on a shout and registered somewhere in his brain, but he pushed
it aside. This was between him and Thomas.
Inches from his face, Creed slammed on the brakes. Thomas
didn’t flinch. Kudos for him. “I’m giving you five seconds more consideration
than you gave me before I possibly blow the cover on the hidden years of your
life,” Creed ground out between his teeth. “Does she know?” He narrowed his
gaze on the scientist.
“No,” he replied under his breath. “My wife doesn’t know.”
“Then I suggest you get her out of here, so you and I can
have a little chat.”
Thomas shuffled around him and Creed rotated, facing the
ladies in the room. Their eyes were wide, the color in their cheeks a shade
paler than a few moments earlier.
“Everything’s fine,” Thomas said on a chuckle, yanked his
hands from his pockets, and clasped them together. His gaze swayed between the
two women in the room. “Creed here…” Thomas indicated with a lift of his palm
in the general direction where he stood. “He’s young and a hothead sometimes,
but harmless. We just have some business to discuss.”
“Business?” his wife began. “What sort of business have you
two been up to? You’re retired, sweetheart.” She joined him in the center of
the room, placing her fingers on his chest. “You promised me you would relax
for once in your life.” Thomas gazed down at his wife, the love for the woman
evident on his face.
“This won’t take long, Beth.” He patted her hand. “Creed has
some ideas he wants to discuss with me, and since I’ve spent more years than I
can remember bringing new ideas to life, I told him I’d be willing to lend him
some of my time and experience.”
Beth nodded. “You always were a sucker for any chance to
talk science and engineering.” She patted him once more then pulled away.
“How about a bottle of that wine you enjoy so much?” Thomas
jerked his head to Creed then Shayla, a look of hopeful cooperation in his
eyes. “Would you mind running to the store and getting some for us, love? I’m
sure Shayla and Creed would enjoy that with dinner.” His gaze darted back to
them. “You two can stay for dinner, I hope?”
“Sure,” Shayla popped up, answering for them both.
“Wonderful.” Thomas’ wife beamed at the idea. She turned to
her granddaughter. “Would you like to come along, dear?”
“Oh… Umm…” Shayla shot a desperate glance at Creed.
“If you don’t mind…” Creed interceded. “I would like Shayla
to stay behind.” He sent her grandmother his best warm smile. “I value her
opinion on a couple of subjects.”
“Of course.” Beth sidled over to her grandchild and gave her
a quick hug. “I’ll grab a few things from the store for dinner as well. I
promised my good friend, Harriet, that I’d check in on her at the hospital
today. Poor thing had her hip replaced yesterday. I think I’ll go ahead and do
that while I’m out. I’ll be back in an hour or two.” She looked to her husband
and Creed. “You two play nice.”
“We will,” Thomas replied with another chuckle.
A few tense moments later, the door closed behind Beth and
Thomas wheeled around toward Creed. “When it came clear to me that my time here
was going to come full circle, I gave your pendant to Shayla. What I did to you
back then…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’ve had a lot of years to think, and it
wasn’t quite fair. So with the device in Shayla’s hands, and her being the
woman I took hostage that day, I figured there would be a good chance you’d
find it.” He looked to Shayla first, then back to Creed. “So what can I do for
you today, enforcer? Now that you have your way home, are you here to try to
take me back with you, or for some other reason?” Thomas took a step toward
Creed, bringing them back to within inches of each other. “If it’s the prior,
you’ll have to kill me first.”
“No!” Shayla cried out.