Authors: Jodi Redford
She gave a humorless laugh. “You expect me to believe that? Sorry, but I’m not that big a fool.”
“How can you not believe it? What the three of us shared on the beach went light years beyond breaking a curse. Our hearts united.”
Her features hardened. “We had sex beneath a veil of illusion. I think that’s pretty fucking telling, don’t you?”
A sharp ache twisted in his heart. “Don’t do this, sweetest.” Past the point of caring about the stun gun she held, he crossed to her and caressed her cheek. Surprisingly, she didn’t slap his hand away. He discovered the reason why a millisecond later when a pair of electro-cuffs banded his right wrist. A buzz sounded from the gadget while it blocked his ability to dimension jump. Not that he would have if he’d been able to. Short of death, no force on earth would convince him to leave either of his bond mates.
She shoved him toward the vehicle’s rear passenger door. “Get inside.”
“Vanessa, let’s talk about this.”
“I’m done talking or doing anything else with you.” She clicked on the stun gun and an electrical snap sizzled from its prongs. “Get in the damn backseat.”
Obviously she was in no frame of mind to be reasonable. Exhaling heavily, he ducked into the car. Sounds of shuffling came from outside and a moment later Braeden scooted in next to him. Vanessa leaned into the doorway and gestured for Brae to slap the remaining cuff onto his wrist. His face displaying the same helpless defeat growing in Rand’s chest, Braeden slid the device into place. The driver’s side door opened and Vanessa climbed inside. Their eyes met for the briefest second in the rearview mirror before she glanced down, her lips adopting a firm, resolute line. “Work whatever hocus-pocus you have to and get us the hell out of here.”
He must have hesitated a fraction too long because Vanessa whipped her head around and glared at him. “
Now
, damn you.”
Weaving the threads of his magic into the proper spell, he cast out the invisible web that would transport them from the hotel. In less time than it took to blink, they went from viewing a crowd of curious fairies and elves gathering around the vehicle, to a dark stretch of Michigan highway. They sat there idle for several minutes and relief began to fill Rand’s heart. She couldn’t do it. Her anger had finally started to clear, and she realized the monumental mistake she’d almost—
The engine turned over with a chuggish purr, and the hope instantly withered in his chest.
They drove nonstop for hours. At first he and Brae attempted to plead their case repeatedly to Vanessa, but after the hundredth time of being drowned out by the stereo she kept stubbornly turning up, they both acknowledged the fruitlessness of that endeavor. Shortly after midnight they arrived at a nondescript strip mall outside of Gaylord. Vanessa drove around back and honked her horn before breaking to a stop near the loading dock of the larger of the department stores.
Despite knowing he was likely wasting his breath, Rand leaned forward, seeking Vanessa’s reflection in the mirror. “Look in your heart. What the three of us share is real and true. We love you. Please believe that.”
Beneath the shadow of anger in her eyes he caught a flicker of the dark phantom that fed her fears. And he knew. “You don’t think we can love you. That anyone can love you. Sweetest,
that
is the true illusion here. The one you’ve built in your head.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
He wouldn’t let her push them away. Not when he was so close to dragging that phantom kicking and screaming into the light. “Everyone who should have been there for you, loved you, has let you down. Abandoned you. Lied to you. Sweet Titania, no wonder you’re afraid of love. In your mind, it’s done nothing but lead to misery.” He dragged his free hand through his hair, his heart aching for her. For them.
A fierce rumble shook through the night. At first he thought it was thunder, but his misassumption was corrected when the large steel door directly across from them swung upward. A burly fellow dressed in overalls and a red flannel shirt wobbled outside, his arm raised against the glare of the headlights.
Vanessa clicked her low beams on. “Thanks for the pep talk, Dr. Phil, but your escort is here.” She pushed open the door and went out to speak to the imitation lumberjack. Less than three minutes later, she returned with the guy. “This is Frank. He’ll be checking you both in and taking care of your needs until you’re sent back home in the morning.” Her lips curved in a humorless smile. “Well, not
all
your needs. I doubt Frank here swings that way, so I don’t suggest wasting your mind magic on him.”
A terrible pain erupting in his sternum, Rand stared at Vanessa as she stepped out of the way, allowing Frank to lean into the car.
“Okay, boys, we can do this nice and easy, or the Frank way.” The burly attendant cracked his knuckles, his grin menacing. “Makes no difference to me.”
Rand reluctantly climbed from the seat, dragging Braeden with him. He sent Vanessa one last pleading look. “We wouldn’t leave you, Nessie. Not ever.”
The phantom fear in her eyes slithering deeper into the shadows, she turned and jumped behind the wheel, slamming the door with a rattling bang. Gunning the engine, she squealed from the parking lot.
Chapter Ten
“What do you mean I’m on probation? I brought my damn jumpers in on time.” By sheer will—or more likely a guardian angel who frowned on bloody violence—Vanessa managed not to go apeshit on Cooper McKenzie’s ass. Okay, she should probably be a little grateful to the guardian angel because Cooper
was
her boss. It’d be kind of hard convincing him to take her off probation if she decked him.
“You also slept with them.”
Damn, she knew coming clean about that would bite her in the keister. This was what she got for being an honest employee.
Cooper leaned back in his leather chair, causing the casters to creak. “That’s a violation of code. We could come down much harder on you than temporary suspension. It’s only because you’re a damn good agent that we decided to go easy on you.”
Easy? They were taking her job away from her for three weeks. What the hell was she supposed to do in the meantime? Renewed panic clawed at her as she visualized sitting around watching Jerry Springer reruns, her butt increasing proportionately with her intake of pizza and deep fried pork rinds. Worst of all, she’d have excess time to dwell on thoughts of Rand and Braeden. She shook her head, refusing to let the doubts that’d haunted her all weekend take root. “Look, I admit that I made a huge lapse in judgment. It’ll never happen again.”
“I’m sorry, Vanessa, but our decision’s final. Tabby has already been given all your assignments. Now if you don’t mind, I have a mountain of paperwork to catch up on.”
Helpless frustration weighing at her, she trudged from her superior’s office. Luckily, it was too early for the rest of the staff to be working. Having to do the walk of shame in front of her colleagues would have been the turd topping what looked to be a shit-pile of a day. She stepped outside, cringing at the cruel brightness of the sunshine. Usually she loved mornings like this, when the air held a slight crispness that conflicted with the intenseness of the rising sun. But lack of sleep and daylight the past two days left her feeling like an anemic vampire who’d been evicted from her coffin.
Sliding her sunglasses in place, she trudged to her Jeep. Less than five minutes later, she was cruising the Pacific Coast Highway, her only other company on the road the various surfers out to catch the early waves. She passed the Huntington Beach pier, and the spectacular sight of the sun’s rays gilding the ocean’s rolling surface acted like a sucker punch to her stomach. Almost unconscious of her actions, she eased up on the gas and the Jeep coasted to a slow crawl. The normally vivid blue waters had turned almost entirely golden. Instantly she was reminded of another ocean.
Another beach.
Three hearts uniting.
She blinked and the illusion shattered. “No, it wasn’t real. It was—” A sob caught in her throat, destroying her defiance. Stepping on the brake, she rested her head on the steering wheel, her heart so heavy she felt ill. A blaring horn sounded behind her and she lifted her arm and weakly flipped the bird out the window. Once the irritated driver sped off, Vanessa returned her foot to the gas pedal and continued her journey home.
Her small bungalow felt cramped and stifling. Despite that, she didn’t bother opening the drapes and stumbled directly into her bedroom, where she promptly crawled into bed fully clothed and cocooned herself beneath the covers. She managed to snooze fitfully for an hour, but constant dreams of cavorting in the surf with Rand and Braeden left her with a hollowness in her belly and a dull ache behind her eyelids, thanks to the tears now soaked into her pillow.
“Bleh.” Furious with herself for crying over a damn illusion, she punched the offensive pillow out of the way.
You don’t think we can love you. Sweetest, that is the true illusion here.
As it’d done the night Rand uttered those words, her heart gave a traitorous little leap. God, she’d be a fool to believe him. To believe a single damn thing he and Braeden had professed.
So why did the idea of chucking it all and running to Rand and Braeden sound so damn appealing?
Idiot, idiot, idiot. She punched the pillow again before drop kicking it into the corner of the bedroom. She should probably be more concerned that taking her frustration out on innocent bedding felt pretty damn good. Scrubbing her palms over her face, she abandoned the bedroom for the kitchen.
She was halfway to the fridge when the doorbell chimed. Backtracking to the front entrance, she peeked through the peephole and noticed Tabby Fowler parked on the other side, her huge, ’80’s rock band hairstyle practically filling the entire doorway. The last thing she wanted was company, but knowing Mama Tabs, there’d be no getting rid of her until she’d seen for herself that Vanessa hadn’t slit her wrists over the probation. Sighing, Vanessa popped the deadbolt free and swung open the door.
“Girl, you look like shit.”
Tabby might have been lovingly nicknamed Mama Tabs because of her nurturing nature, but it didn’t stop the woman from taking the brutally honest approach.
“I haven’t slept much the past three days.” Actually, she hadn’t slept much from the moment she’d chased Braeden down that Michigan hillside.
“It shows.” Clucking her tongue in disapproval, Tabby bossed her way inside the small front vestibule and beelined for the kitchen. “You got the makings for French toast?” Without waiting for an answer, she began scrounging through the cupboards. “Where’s your maple syrup?”
Vanessa pointed to the bottle resting right before Tabby’s eyes and the older woman gave her a disgusted look. “Girl, do you not see the word imitation on there? I mean the real stuff.”
“Sorry, don’t have any.”
“You are a discredit to the female race. Fine, we’ll just have to settle for some fresh fruit and powdered sugar.”
Vanessa waited for the inevitable complaint as Tabby opened the produce drawer inside the fridge.
“There are raisins in here.
Raisins
. Is that your idea of fruit?”
“They’re golden seedless.”
Tabby’s heavily mascaraed eyes narrowed. “Disgraceful.” Grumbling, she went about collecting the remaining ingredients for breakfast. While the slices of bread were grilling, she turned and gave Vanessa an assessing look. “You wanna talk about what happened?”
“No.”
“Too bad. You’re gonna anyway.” Tabby lifted one corner of the French toast, checking for doneness. “You’re one of the best agents in the field.”
“Gee, if everyone keeps telling me that, I’ll start to get a swelled head.” Too bad being the best didn’t equate with keeping her on the job, apparently.
“It’s true. Which is why I was knocked head over ass when I heard you up and slept with your jumpers. Them boys must have really laid the charm on thick to get past your brick wall.”
Vanessa frowned. “Brick wall?”
“Well, hon, it’s certainly no secret you’re a bit of a hard-ass when it comes to the male gender. In fact, that’s what all the guys from work call you behind your back. Hard-ass.”
“
What
?” Those motherfuckers. She was so going to wring their balls the next time she…
Okay, they might have a teensy point.
“So what’d your jumpers do to worm their way past your infamously impenetrable wall?”
“Nothing.” Everything.
Tabby’s gaze remained shrewd. “
Nothing
doesn’t jive with you locking yourself in this rathole for two days.”
“I told you I was tired.”
“You also told me you haven’t slept.”
Damn, busted.
“So what’s the story, Nessie?”
She started to open her mouth, intending to refute there being anything more to it than exhaustion, but stared at Tabby instead. “What did you just call me?”
“Oh damn.” Tabby began flipping the finished French toast onto two mismatched china plates, obviously flustered. “I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’m usually good at stopping it before it slips.”
Vanessa blinked. “Wait, are you saying you’ve been secretly calling me Nessie behind my back all this time?”
“Well, it’s better than hard-ass,” Tabby groused. “The only reason I never told you is because I’ve always gotten the distinct impression you’re not much of one for nicknames. But personally, I think Nessie is cute. Plus it suits you.”
“No, it doesn’t. It’s the name of a—” She swallowed hard as an unexpected sob tunneled its way up her esophagus. Despite her efforts to rope it into submission, the embarrassing sound blubbered free.
Tabby gaped at her. “Oh, hon. I had no idea you hated nicknames
that
much. I promise I’ll never say it again.”
“I-it’s not…” Sniffling, Vanessa knuckled her nose. “He called me Nessie too.”
“Who?”
“Rand. My pooka.”
Tabby’s pencil-thin eyebrows arched. “Hon, you just called him your pooka. Are you sure there isn’t more of a story there than you’re letting on?”
Vanessa lasted exactly five seconds before spilling all the sordid details. By the time the tale ended, Tabby looked suitably shocked. And a bit envious. “Well, damn. No wonder you let them talk you out of hauling them in immediately. I’m just amazed you only opted for forty-eight hours.” Tabby gave a wicked chuckle. “I would have renegotiated them to at least a week.”