a Touch of Intrigue (6 page)

“You’re right, but I haven’t picked up a single image of him, and that doesn’t make sense. Surely if they were staying here, he would have left some kind of an energy imprint, especially here. Every member of a household tracks through the kitchen. Don’t they?”

He gave me a barely there head shake, but was losing some of the tension around his mouth. Still, we couldn’t move on until I fixed my foot-in-mouth faux pas. I rested my hands on the bulky edge of the towel around his waist. “I trust you. My heart is so damn in love with you it hasn’t settled into a normal beat since I saw you sitting on the sofa. It’s just that my head hasn’t caught up with my body and spirit. I’m healing from Mitch’s betrayal, but there are still broken parts, and they react without my permission to anything that smells like a lie. I’m sorry for doubting you. It was an unjustified reflex that I… How can I fix this?”

“We’re good, Belisama. Building trust takes time and practice.” He cupped my neck with a warm hand, then planted a hard kiss on my mouth before he drew back. “Did Harlan hang out in your North Carolina house?”

His question hit me with a blast of reality. “No. Oh, my gosh, hardly ever. Only Millie. Harlan stayed outside, worked in the garden, and probably did a ton of other things I don’t know anything about, but the house was totally Millie’s domain.”

“And?” Pierce—pushing me to think.

“And they had their own cottage.” I grabbed his arm. “Did you see any out buildings when you cleared the property?”

He caught my hand, tugged me into the living room and toward a different hallway. “No but it was a cursory search because Aukele has protected this place with a heavy dose of magic. I focused on the house out of habit.”

I came to an abrupt stop and arched my eyebrows. “Seriously? You didn’t check every inch of the property?”

Pierce rubbed the back of his neck. “Thought I’d give trusting Aukele a try. Hasn’t worked worth a shit, and now I have a permanent twitch in my neck.”

My grin was instantaneous. “So… You think we both have some trust issues?”

“Yeah. Fits.”

I swung our joined hands back and forth a few times. “First thing tomorrow, property search?”

“It’s a definite.” His smile was slow. “How about we postpone the shower and take that platter of food to bed? Now.”

His towel had developed an interesting bulge. “Another definite. But can we please zip through the rest of the house tour first. I don’t like being lost, especially in a home I supposedly own.”

The tour took a solid twenty minutes because it was a huge house. Lots of rooms, and many of them had energy patterns that were going to require some time for me to explore, but it was close to midnight and I’d about zapped out my spidey senses in the kitchen. Truth—I wanted to be in bed with Pierce, feeding him bites of fruit, cheese, and of course me. The house could wait.

I WOKE SATED, AND COULDN’T
remember ever being so completely at peace. The dark magic that was Tynan Ailill Pierce had seeped into me, had become a part of me. A comfortable part of me. And wasn’t that surprising? Mostly my energy field had been sparkly, white, and pulsing at a delightful fast hum that supported my avid curiosity. It was different now, and I…

“Good morning.” Tynan’s words vibrated in his chest. Slow and solid. His body was spooned behind me, his arm resting over my waist, and all was right in my world.

“Last night—”

I rolled, pinning him to the mattress. “It was perfect. It’s still perfect.”

He tapped the tip of my nose. I inhaled. “Wait. Is that coffee?”

He nodded.

“Were you up early?” I asked, but a cold chill hit the base of my spine because I knew he hadn’t left our bed. “We’re not alone.” I rolled out off the mattress, had a moment of total panic when I didn’t spot my messenger bag. “My sig. There’s no locks on the doors.” The words had sounded embarrassingly shaky. I tugged the sheet free, wrapped it around me, and considered the best way to arm myself and hit the kitchen without getting killed.

Other than glancing down at his rather prominent arousal, Pierce barely twitched. “You’re not going to share the sheet?”

Unable to tear my gaze from the chiseled perfection of his body, I shook my head and got a mouthful of knotted hair. He didn’t move, just soaked in my stare, comfortable, like we’d had a million mornings together. I freed one of my arms from the sheet, and pointed into the house. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

“I like watching you.”

True. He’d proved that several times during the night, but the marked lack of his normal defensive, protective reaction was way off. And it pushed my impatience button. “Okay. I like watching you, too, but that isn’t what’s going on here.”

“Coffee.”

I sifted through his expressions: the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the laughter behind his eyes, the relaxed tone of his words. “You’re saying that whoever has made coffee isn’t a threat to us?”

He rolled off the bed, stood and pried my hand open, letting the sheet drop to the floor. “It has to be either Millie or Aukele, and I’m not in a sociable mood.”

I shivered, and every feminine body part—plus a plethora of hormones—stood at attention. “Aukele doesn’t do coffee. Has to be Millie. She’ll be hurt—”

Tynan skimmed his hand along my arm, clasping my hand. “No, she won’t. There’s a natural pool.” He led me away from the porch, and along a mostly hidden path until we reached a rocky outcropping. Turning me into him, he brushed my lips with a soft kiss. “Sex now. Coffee klatch later. Did I get it right?”

I relaxed into his kiss. “You sounded just like me,” I mumbled. Next thing I knew he’d grabbed my waist, and propelled both of us over the rocks and into the warmest pool of clear water I’d ever seen. Or felt. “It’s—”

He grinned, dunking us both under the surface. I came up sputtering. “What the hell, Pierce? Millie’s in our kitchen, and we’re out here playing around. Naked. As in without weapons as well as without clothes. What if it isn’t Millie?”

He held out his hands, then turned them palms-up. “We have weapons, Belisama. And you know I would never put you at risk. Aukele’s barriers are unbreakable. It’s safe here.”

I stared at him, not believing those words had just come out of my man. “You don’t trust anyone, not like this. And I can’t just shift between sex energy, fighting energy, and ordinary life. It short-circuits my brain cells and leaves me…”

“Let’s take care of the sex first, and skip over the fight until after we’ve had coffee and diffused the kitchen issue.” He drew me into his arms, his arousal pressing tight against my abdomen.

There was nothing for it. I wrapped my arms around his neck, anchored my legs around his waist, and opened for him. Coffee could wait until we were damn good and ready for it.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, between smelling the coffee and our dip in the pool, I’d decided Pierce must have seen Millie enter the house, otherwise he would have been all over the situation like chocolate in hundred degree heat. It had to be Millie, because seriously who else could it be? But while I was struggling into yesterday’s clothes, I realized it wasn’t. A faint wafting of strange energy had drifted from the great room onto the screened porch. It abraded my aura, not threatening, but a long way from comfortable, and definitely probing for something. I must have slipped into stealth mode, because Pierce was eyeing me, all senses alert.

He jabbed his finger at the floor, a silent command for me to stay. Like that was an option. I pointed at his ankle holster, then wiggled my fingers in a gimmee motion.

A silent sigh later, he freed the Kimber, and handed it to me.

FIVE

WE MADE OUR WAY ACROSS
the living room, weapons tucked in tight to our bodies, spidey senses on high alert. Pierce took the lead with me spooned behind him. He inched along the wall separating the living room from the kitchen, body angled to reduce the size of his body-target. Intense calm flowed through his aura, a well-seasoned warrior hanging on the edge of the danger zone. I did my best to emulate him, but only succeeded in keeping the Kimber steady. The rest of me? Frantically sifting through a series of training scenarios, and praying I could hold my own as backup.

Pierce inhaled, grabbed a quick glance into the kitchen. “Well, fuck.”

What the hell? I nudged him with my foot. “Who?” I asked, my voice hitting a raspy high note.

He lowered his weapon, but his shoulder muscles hiked up a notch, and he blew out a pissed-off sigh. “Just fuck.”

I did not lower the Kimber. That was two fucks in less time than it took me suck in a breath, and my intuition was screaming flashing, red warnings.

“Come on in. I’m here to talk.”

My brain hit flashpoint: male, rough resonant voice, probably carried some weight, Pierce didn’t like him. But damn it all to blue, bloody hell, Pierce
knew
him. “Fuck is right.” I stepped around him and scanned the kitchen. The man sat at the center island, buzzed white hair, ugly Hawaiian shirt, big hands, skewed cleft in his chin, eyes the same shade of mud brown as the coffee in front of him. No visible weapon. I lowered the Kimber. “Who the hell are you?”

Pierce and the unknown dude answered simultaneously. Like they’d been practicing for months. “Fred.”

Adrenaline surged through me, obliterating every spec of the training Annie, Whitney, and Adam had worked so hard to perfect. “Fred.” The whisper caught in my throat. “Fred.” A shout. Better. Much better. Not taking my focus away from the living embodiment of the person who starred in my most recent nightmares, I aimed my anger at the man I loved because he was the nearest target. And in deep shit. “And exactly
how
do you know Fred?”

Fred, bless his heart, grinned. “Tell her Tap.”

My glare lasered on Pierce. “Tap?” Yeah, it was another whisper, but this one held enough pissed-off female to have him back-step.

Fred groaned. I glanced at him, catching the you-are-in-deep-shit grin he aimed at Pierce.

My man tucked his gun in his waistband, and then motioned for me to hand him the Kimber. I handed it over, butt first, without comment. Pierce knew I wouldn’t shoot him, but there was no doubt he wanted me unarmed, and it would have been damn stupid to draw my line in the sand over a weapon I didn’t plan to fire. Adrenaline and raging anger aside, I tried not to be stupid. Whitney and Annie had spent a lot of hours breaking me of acting without thought—at least when there were lethal weapons involved.

Knowing I was too angry to confront Pierce and come out the winner, I deliberately paced off the distance to Fred, using the time to catalog subtleties in his demeanor. Age-spotted hands loose around the coffee mug, relaxed facial muscles, cold, brown eyes pinning me with an alert gaze. Wizened. He had to be eighty, or so. I hadn’t spotted a weapon earlier—but I couldn’t see under the center island without bending, and I wanted to keep his face in sight. Tamping down my anger, I concentrated on the information I
needed
to know. “Why are you in my house? And how did you get through the maze?” I’d deal with the
Tap
issue later, even though questions were threatening to eat a hole in my curiosity.

Fred held my gaze, sniffed, then took a long swallow of coffee.

It gave Pierce time to move in and take a position at the end of the island, effectively between Fred and me.

No surprise there, but this was my house, my turf, and my questions. “I’d love to threaten you, Fred. To be able to turn the dogs loose if you don’t speak up, but we don’t have K9s. Yet. On the other hand…” I drug out the words. “Pierce isn’t known for his sweet, forgiving nature. He’s younger, stronger, and better trained than anyone I’ve had the pleasure to fight. And he loves me. It’s a good guess he wants the answers as much as I do. Just saying.”

Fred reared back, his laughter filling the room. “Oh, yes, Ms. Gray. I’m familiar with Tap’s training.” He took another swallow of coffee. “And yours.”

A hot slice of fear cut right through my gut. I ignored it. “And?”

“I make a mean pot of coffee. Pour yourself a cup and we’ll talk.”

Every hair on my body prickled to attention. “Surely you know I wouldn’t consume anything you touched.”

This time, Fred’s smile was genuine. “You’re a valuable commodity Ms. Gray, and I’ve been watching you, protecting you all your life. The Unites States government—”

“Shut the fuck up, Fred. Take your coffee and get out.” Pierce was bordering on stupid angry. I’d never seen his face so red, his temper so raw, and I wanted it fixed. Now.

Fred must have picked up on something, because he stood, raised his mug to us. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes.” He was out the door faster than Road Runner. No eighty-year-old should be able to move that fast, and now I had two attitude-heavy octogenarians in my life. Fred and Aukele.

I spun to face Pierce. “Talk.”

He didn’t so much as blink. “Early on I worked for Fred. Some deep cover. Nothing related to Loyria or James Gray.”

My brain sorted information so fast I got dizzy. “You knew I was being watched when you told me about my security clearance.”

“Suspected. No proof.” His words sounded brittle.

“Did Fred know Fion Connor and Eamon Grady murdered my parents?”

“Unlikely. He would’ve taken them out before we did if he’d known.”