Sin and Sacrifice (13 page)

“
I enjoy it. But there's
no reason to examine every piece, is there? What—you go out with
guys who roll food across their palate and discuss every seasoning
and its function?” He eyed her with a dubious
expression.

The cork popped free of the
bottle. She laughed, countering his dubious look with an airy
retort. “I didn't say that. But you're going to be done by the time
I take my first bite.”

Both of his brows arched
that time. “And...?”

With a rush of heat, it
dawned on her that for Rhett, this was work. And when had it become
something else for her? His presence disconcerted her. Distracted
her. She found herself doing and thinking things she shouldn't
considering their extraordinary circumstances. Evelyn had enjoyed
men and all the things they could provide in her time on earth:
conversation, pleasure, companionship. But she'd never allowed
herself more than that.

None of the girls had,
because they knew that it led nowhere. The number of years they
could be with a man were startlingly short when someone lived as
long as they did. Then there was the risk that the men would become
suspicious of why they weren't aging, which caused problems all its
own. Minna was the only one of them that had stayed with a man for
more than a handful of years. An exception because she knew how to
handle her heart.

Buying time pouring and
taking a sip of her wine, she met and held Rhett's gaze. When she
was through, she said, “It's nothing. This is just the first time
I've eaten with a ma-- anyone other than my close friends for a
while. I thought maybe you'd tell me about yourself.”

Rhett considered her with a
thoughtful look. Setting down his fork, he sat back in the chair.
“What do you want to know?”

At first she worried she
might have annoyed him, but his tone and his eyes were intrigued
instead. Although she'd glimpsed where he lived on his passport,
she didn't want to mention it, so she asked, “Where did you grow
up? Do you have brothers and sisters?”

While they talked she
tested bites of the food, alternating with sips of wine. Once, when
she stretched her legs out, she encountered his under the table.
Immediately she drew hers back to tuck under her chair.

“
Grew up in Twenty-nine
palms. That's in California. And yeah, I've got two brothers. What
about you?” He sat forward and this time, ate at a slower pace. Not
much slower, but she noticed the difference.

His willingness to oblige
her had that same strange effect on her insides. “I don't have any
brothers or sisters and my folks are dead.” The part about her
parents was true, at least. Careful to keep her face neutral, she
continued. “They moved me around a lot when I was little, so there
isn't one particular place I can really name as 'the' place I grew
up. But I live in Pacific Palisades. It's in Calif--”

“
I've been there.” He
seemed amused that, considering where they'd met and where they
currently were, that they both lived fairly close to each other.
“Pretty posh.”

“
Yeah, but the beaches
there are fantastic.” She picked up the wine for another sip.
Evelyn didn't want to imbibe too much in case she needed her wits
about her unexpectedly.

“
What do you do for a
living, then?”

“
Well,” she said, setting
the glass down. “Those friends I told you about? A few of us own
some rental property in various locations. It keeps us
busy.”

He nodded while he
listened, stabbing bites of food between commentary. “Sounds like
it. Good for you. I'm guessing you're successful enough that you
guys can travel around, take vacations often.”

She detected no sarcasm in
his tone. He looked genuinely impressed. And the more she talked
about her sisters as friends, the more she warmed to the story. It
allowed her to acknowledge them and speak about them without
feeling like she was giving too much away. It meant she needed to
get in touch with them before Rhett or Christian did so they could
get their story straight.

“
We do, and yes, we enjoy
it. We work pretty hard. I'm also involved in several charity
organizations for children, so that takes up another big chunk of
my time.” All of the sisters did. It had been part of their promise
when they left the garden of Eden—to do good in the world. Spread
compassion and kindness. It came naturally to each of them, in fact
to all of the sisters, and the others felt as much satisfaction in
that capacity as she did. Even Alexandra, the rabble-rouser of the
bunch. For all intents and purposes, the girls were like any other
women, making their way through life—or many lives. Evelyn was not
unaware other people would find them extraordinary and they all
understood why it was so important to remain hidden in plain
sight.

The knowledge of their
existence had the capability to change
everything.

She caught Rhett watching
her with a complex expression. His eyes looked darker, holding hers
with an intensity that made her squirm in her chair. It made her
uncomfortable when she couldn't gauge his mood or figure out what
he was thinking.

“
I would have pegged you
as a player, I have to admit,” he said with a wry grin, after a
moment. “The kind of woman who takes what she can get and moves
on.”

His assessment startled
her. Setting her fork down, she pushed her plate a few inches away.
“Why is that?”

“
The traveling around, the
fact you haven't ever mentioned anything about a boyfriend,
husband, lover. You just look like the type.”

She frowned. “I guess that
old saying is true, then. Don't judge a book by its
cover.”

For a reason she didn't
understand, he laughed. A wry sounding rasp that sent goosebumps
down her arms.

“
And that's the god's own
truth, hm?” he asked.

Before either of them could
say anything else, his cell phone rang. Excusing himself from the
table, he took the call. She heard Christian's name and wondered
what information the agent had come up with. Sipping at the
remnants of her wine, she watched Rhett walk to the open balcony
doors. He hooked a hand over his head on the frame, taking up a
relaxed stance while he got his update. Silhouetted by the glow of
lights from the buildings along the street, the strength of his
physique was on prominent display. He reminded her again of a
warrior, strong and capable and dedicated to his work. Sometimes he
seemed invincible, though the wound on his side declared him as
human as the next man.

He ended the call and
pushed the phone into his pocket. Turning, he scanned the room and
made his way toward the TV stand. After fiddling with a knob, music
made more of static than melody hit the air. Something beautifully
foreign and lilting. He adjusted the volume to a lower level and
thrust a hand back through his hair.

“
Better than all the noise
from outside. More wine?” he asked, coming back to the table to
start clearing the plates onto the cart. He handled it all with
brisk efficiency, something she was becoming used to.

“
Thanks,” she said when he
took her plate. “And no, I think I'm good. What did Christian have
to say?”

“
He's got the rest of your
luggage. All of it.” When he had the table cleared, he pushed the
cart to the door and left it in the hallway to be collected later
or in the morning.

Evelyn changed her mind and
poured herself a little more wine. Just a little. Galiana's things
would be with the rest of theirs and she wasn't sure how she was
going to face going through it without having some kind of major
reaction.

So far, she'd kept most of
her tears and grief in check.

“
At least I'll have my own
things again.” Which was strangely little comfort.

“
Are you all right?” he
asked, proving that he was sensitive to her mood changes, subtle as
they might be.

“
Yes. Trying not to think
about—well I'm sure you know. It's hard sometimes.”

“
Yeah. I bet.” He leaned
against the wall next to the open balcony doors. “Who taught you
how to use a gun?”

Evelyn glanced up from the
swirl of wine and met his eyes. “My friends. They're pretty
confident in situations like...those. They stay in
practice.”

“
Doesn't sound like you
do.”

“
I don't like violent
confrontations,” she admitted. She saw no reason to hide
it.

“
You used the gun
though.”

“
I wasn't shooting at a
person. And it's more than just weapons. It's the physical
manifestation of the rage that makes my knees feel like jelly. I
don't know why.” Feeling like she might have said too much, she had
a drink.

“
Everyone has their thing.
Sometimes it's mind over matter. I know you couldn't because you
were bound, but would you have fought back if you could when they
had you in that room?”

“
If it meant escaping—yes.
Or helping one of my friends. I'm not sure how effective I would
have been though.” The wine glass made a quiet tink on the table
when she set it down.

“
What happened to you that
made you so susceptible to violence?” he asked.

Startled by the insightful
question, she fidgeted with the outside seam on her jeans. A scene
flashed to mind, centuries old but as clear as if it happened
yesterday. Four Templars, two stripped to the waist, the iron cross
tattoo prominent on their backs. Swords in their hands, teeth
clenched, engaging in battle just outside the walls of Jerusalem.
She and Alexandra had passed within feet of their growling fury,
sweat flying from their faces, veins standing out in their arms.
She knew what would happen if they were discovered and caught,
which made it terrifying for Evelyn. They passed so close she felt
the heat of their bodies, heard the blade sing as it arced through
the air. The Templars were legendary with their sword skill. There
had been no other place to escape but there at that particular
doorway and although the Knights were occupied with something else,
it had left a lasting, terrible impression on her.

“
Miss Grant?”

She started in the seat,
jolted out of her memory. “I'm not really sure. I've just never
handled it well when I see people fighting up close and personal.”
The lie felt sour on her tongue.

Rhett regarded her like he
thought there was more to the story. But he said, “So if I were to
stalk you right now, you wouldn't be able to react?”

Evelyn snapped to attention
in a way she hadn't before. Sitting straighter in her chair,
posture alert, she wondered if she looked as hunted as she suddenly
felt. “I...I don't know. I mean, it's you, and I know you don't
mean it--”

Before she could finish
her sentence, he shoved off from his lean and started doing
precisely what he suggested. Stalking her. And when Rhett
wanted
to look
intimidating, he could. In spades.

Less than thirty feet
separated them. Out of her chair before he crossed half that
distance, she put her hands out like she meant to fend him off,
back-stepping toward the kitchenette. “Rhett, I don't think this is
a good idea.”

“
You can't hold me off
with just your hands. Look for something. What's the best weapon
within reach?” Closer, striding long and determined.

Evelyn felt the breath
leave her lungs in a rush. That same, strange feeling hit her legs,
like they were wet noodles instead of flesh and blood and bone. She
couldn't look away from his eyes for anything, not even a weapon.
Her hip glanced off the edge of the counter.

He was almost within
reach. And then he
was
within reach, pressing against her hands with his body,
pushing her all the way back to the door. Dwarfed by his size, by
his sheer presence, she tried in vain to move him by pushing at his
chest. He felt as solid as a brick wall.

She looked at his throat,
his chin, his mouth. His eyes.

“
The best weapon would
have been your glass or the bottle. Crack it against the table to
make a sharper point. Or there was that vase to the side, but it
would have required you to look away from me and that's dangerous.
You had time in the safe house to grab it and throw. Tonight, I
would have been on you before you ever touched it. If all else
fails, bite and kick and go for the eyes.”

“
I can't breathe,” she
said, and it was mostly true. He'd taken her by surprise and done
the unexpected, rendering her incapacitated. “And I can't scratch
your eyes out. You're
you.
”

“
You could if I meant you
harm. Right? You have to learn to think through the panic.
Sometimes the best way is to put yourself in that situation, force
yourself to confront it.” He stared down at her and braced one hand
against the door to the side of her head.

Alive too long to usually
be affected like this by any man, Evelyn found herself surprised at
her lack of control where Rhett was concerned. Like a moth to a
flame she was drawn by his eyes, his self-assurance. The way he
radiated confidence made her wish she could trust him with her
deepest secrets, to let someone else in, lean on him when the
burdens became too much. It wasn't the first time she felt caught
in his orbital spin, and it wouldn't be the last time she forced
herself back to the stark reality that she needed to keep this a
business arrangement.