Locked Out of Love (2 page)

 So all her co-workers at the bar had witnessed her flight? That wasn't good.

“I'm fine, Ma.” She extracted her mother from around her. “I thought I saw Alexander and I fled.”

Her mother's clear, blue eyes widened at the mention of her ex. “You should have called the police. You have a restraining order on him, don't you?”

She hated lying to her mother, but she couldn't tell her the truth. “I wasn't sure and I panicked. Why did you call the bar looking for me?”

Her mother turned around and plucked a small sticky note off the cluttered side table. “The people you found to help Nathan called earlier looking for you, and because you turn your cell phone off at work, I told them where they could find you. I wanted to check in to see if they'd contacted you yet. I know it's late, and I know you can't be disturbed at work, but I thought … ” She drifted off and Melanie offered an understanding smile.

Ma thought she was helping her son.

All this time Melanie had been trying to find ways to help her brother, and now it turned out she was just like him. The thought sent a sickening lurch through her stomach.

Cursed.

“How is he?” she asked.

Her mother's gaze dropped to the floor. “Your father and I were at work; so was your aunt and her boyfriend. No one was here to watch him. I think he had a stash of drugs hidden somewhere in his room. He's been out of it since I got home.”

The wrinkles in her mother's face seemed harsher against her sad eyes and graying hair pulled back into a neat bun. She looked so tired.

She's too old to have to worry about this stuff.

Melanie gathered her mother's frail form into her arms and gave her a quick squeeze. “I'll go check on him.”

She slipped down the narrow hallway, mindful of all her aunt's precious vases and safari animal figurines that cluttered the tables, along with books and glasses resting on coasters. It was a tight squeeze with six of them living in the two-bedroom home, but somehow they made it work. She stopped at the end of the hall where her parents had given up the second bedroom to her and her brother. She raised her hand to knock and paused.
What for?

She pushed open the door.

The room was a mess. Clothes were thrown everywhere, some with fresh rips in the fabric, including hers.

“Nathan, no,” Melanie moaned as she picked up two of her favorite tops. She'd been lucky enough to find them on clearance and now they were ruined. She threw them into the wastebasket in the corner.

Nathan was right where Ma said he'd be. One of his legs dangled over the edge of the bed, his arms were spread wide, and he stared unseeing at the ceiling.

Melanie swallowed the lump in her throat. Was this to become her fate? All this time she'd thought she was the lucky one. Her neck tingled and she felt an answering sting of tears in her eyes. When Nathan had first started getting his visions, he complained about an itch at the back of his neck. The doctors had diagnosed him with narcolepsy, but Melanie knew better. Now, six years later, he turned to drugs and alcohol to escape his visions.

Was it only a matter of time before Ma would find them both like this?

No.

Melanie straightened her shoulders. There was still hope. Ma said the people who could help Nathan had wanted to talk to her. She wouldn't give up until she'd exhausted all avenues. If these people could help Nathan, then perhaps they could help her as well.

Besides, I'm not getting visions like Nathan.

So what did that leave her with?

Suddenly, her thoughts flipped to the man at the bar, the one drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Her heart quivered in her chest and she rubbed at it.

He had powers. He knew what he was doing. Knew how to control them.

Somehow when she'd fled the bar, she'd trapped that suited stranger's arm to his chest, but never-want-to-see-the-bottom-of-my-glass man had simply walked up, grabbed him, and undone whatever Melanie had done.

I absorbed his ability.

She dropped down on an empty corner of her brother's bed. Her mind swam; hours ago she had only her brother to worry about and now it turned out she had some strange power, too, one that she put on display without meaning to, one that could draw unwanted attention to herself.

One thing at a time.

Say she had absorbed some of the drunkard's ability. All that meant was that he lived with powers, and he hadn't looked mentally unstable. Drunk and depressed? Yes. But crazy? No.

Something about him had drawn her curiosity at the bar. His dark mahogany hair flirting between sexy and shaggy, those defined brows half hiding a pair of midnight-blue eyes, and his hands … working hands, covered with scars like a map with too many trails to follow. What would they feel like under her fingertips, against her skin, teasing … ?

Melanie's breath caught and she instantly shook the thoughts away.

Where had those come from?

Her eyes darted to Nathan. Had he witnessed her getting all hot and bothered over some stranger?

No.

Any lustful feelings evaporated as she stared down at him. She took one of his hands in both of hers. “I'm going to help you,” she promised him. “I'm going to help us both.”

• • •

“Miss Vyntra?” Melanie turned. A young woman with wavy, brown hair and studious blue eyes stood before her. She was a good few inches shorter than Melanie and wore black pants and a black blazer that emphasized her curves. She thrust out her hand and smiled. “I'm Juliet Arden. I'm here to talk about your brother. Shall we?” She motioned for them to start walking down the boardwalk.

Melanie tightened her father's worn windbreaker against her as the ocean breeze kicked up. She'd picked the boardwalk near the pier for a reason. One, it was away from her home, and two, it was public. Although, in the month of March, the beach wasn't exactly bustling with tourists. Still, she could never be too careful. After all, she'd expected the man she'd talked to on the phone to be here meeting her today. Not some woman.

“Where's Mr. Richardson? I spoke to him on the phone.”

Juliet nodded. “My co-worker is out in the field today. Besides, we thought you might be more comfortable meeting with a woman after what Mr. Richardson said he saw the other day at the bar. You apparently ran right into him while fleeing from a pair of gentlemen? I do hope everything is okay.”

Melanie's stomach dropped. “That was him?”

“Indeed. I'm sorry to hear you were let go.”

Melanie scuffed her shoe along the pavement. “Thanks.” She hadn't expected to be fired, but apparently enough patrons had complained. The regulars had no love for her; she never flirted with them, she never let them touch her, she stayed in her own little safety bubble. Thus, she was expendable.

“So,” said Juliet. “I hear your brother needs our help. How did you find out about us, if you don't mind me asking? We're not exactly listed in the Yellow Pages.”

Melanie cleared her throat. “I heard a lot of things when I worked in the bar. One night I overheard a man talking to his buddy about his sister-in-law, or someone like that, acting strange. I heard him say the doctors diagnosed her with sudden onset schizophrenia. He was really upset, saying there were no warning signs, that it was impossible, but the doctors refused to listen. Then he came across this group and his sister was cured. When he gave his friend the contact info, I took notes too. You see, my brother was diagnosed with narcolepsy—”

“But you don't think your brother suffers from narcolepsy, do you?” Juliet cut in. She stopped walking to stare up at Melanie. Juliet couldn't have been older than Melanie's twenty-six years, but her eyes showed a woman hardened by experience. “You think your brother has something more, just like you think that man's sister had something more than schizophrenia. Am I correct?”

Melanie hesitated.

“You don't have to be afraid,” Juliet soothed. “I'm quite aware of there being more to this world than what meets the eye.”

“My brother doesn't have narcolepsy. He has visions.”

Melanie waited a few seconds for it to sink in, but Juliet's expression never changed.

 “My brother used to get visions of what was going to happen in the future,” she continued. “You know, like who'd win a boxing match or a soccer game. Everything was fine in the beginning, but then he started getting visions of different people. People he didn't know, people in pain, people about to die. He thought he was going insane. Too many people in his head, he always said. It only got worse, so he tries to block them out completely.”

“I understand. My organization has dealt with many individuals. Your brother's ability should be no problem.”

“You mean you can get rid of it?”

Juliet smiled, but for some reason it had the opposite effect on Melanie. A shiver ran down her spine. “Trust me when I say that stripping powers is our specialty.”

Stripping?

“Now, I must ask,” Juliet said as they began walking again, “have
you
been experiencing any strange feelings? Specifically speaking, a tingle at the back of your neck?”

Melanie started. She chanced a quick glance out of the corner of her eye to see if the ringleader of this mysterious operation noticed. With how FBI-esque everyone seemed, she expected Juliet to catch every little detail, but her face remained impassive.

“No,” Melanie managed to croak. “Nothing.”

Juliet made a non-committal noise in the back of her throat. “And what about the man who was pursuing you the other night?”

“I thought you said that was Mr. Richardson.”

“You ran into Mr. Richardson, but he says there were two other men in the alley that night. One of whom helped him with his … honey situation. Do you know this man he's talking about?”

Those midnight blue eyes locking with hers, her heart racing, her body throbbing. Oh yeah, she knew him.

 “I've never met him before in my life,” she told Juliet a little breathlessly.

Another thoughtful sound came from Juliet. “Does the name Joel Kegler ring any bells?”

Joel. Joel Kegler.

The name suited him.

“I've never heard of him.”

Juliet studied her for a moment. “Very well. Let's get inside somewhere; we have much to discuss, including your form of payment.”

Melanie followed after Juliet as she steered them toward a place to eat, glad for the distraction. She needed to push Joel from her thoughts. She'd never see him again. She didn't want to see him again.

Joel didn't think he'd find himself back here for a long time.

He stared at the familiar wood for a few seconds more and then knocked.

Footsteps sounded behind the door before it pulled open. Merrick Haskell's stunned face greeted him. “Joel?”

He tried not to let his imagination run away with him. He ignored Merrick's rumpled black hair and clothes. This was Sydney's Mirror Mate—her other half. Joel was happy for her. Merrick was a good guy.

“Hey,” said Joel. “I need your help.”

Merrick couldn't have looked any more surprised if Joel had pulled out a top hat and started tap dancing.

“Who's there, Merrick?”

Joel flinched inward as Sydney appeared, winding her arm through Merrick's. She barely reached his shoulder. Her short height, coupled with her petite frame, made her look younger than her twenty-five years, but beneath that child-like exterior was a brilliant mind, one that pushed her through school faster than anyone thought possible. When her emerald eyes caught sight of Joel, her arm instantly dropped.

“Hey, Syd.” She should be at the clinic. He forced himself to smile. It didn't seem as hard as it used to be. He clutched the plastic baggie in his pocket and a pair of crystal-blue eyes stared back at him in his mind's eye. “Do you mind if I borrow Merrick?”

Sydney's shock lasted about a second. “Uh, sure. I'll just leave you two alone.” She disappeared behind the door and Merrick stepped back to let him in.

Joel was as familiar with Sydney's home as he was his own, but he waited near the door for Merrick to lead him into the kitchen where he took a seat at Sydney's round oak table. The one he knew she'd pleaded with her parents not to donate to Goodwill when they'd gotten a new one. He ran his finger over a chip in the wood that was his fault. He'd wanted to help Sydney clean up when she'd cooked for them on their fourth date so many years ago. He'd still been so nervous back then that he'd dropped the dish and taken part of the table with it. He'd felt awful, but Sydney believed chips and dents built character.

 “Do you want anything to drink?” Merrick asked.

“Water is fine.”

He heard Merrick open and close a cabinet, followed by opening and closing another one.

“Second cabinet from the fridge,” Joel called absently.

The noise from the kitchen momentarily stopped, then he heard another cabinet
whoosh
open, followed by clinking glasses.

A few seconds later Merrick returned with two glasses of water.

“Still getting used to the place?” Joel asked as Merrick took the seat across from him.

Joel had meant the question to come across as idle chit-chat, but Merrick's face was carefully neutral, as if he didn't know whether or not Joel was trying to prove that he knew Sydney's home better than Merrick.

Whatever. It didn't matter what Merrick thought. Joel wasn't trying to win Sydney back and he wasn't here to show up Merrick either.

He pulled the plastic baggie from his pocket and pushed it across the table.

Merrick eyed the napkin inside. “What's this?”

Joel shifted in his seat. He felt like some kind of creepy stalker. After that night when Fern had disappeared, he'd gone back inside the bar and snatched up the napkin she'd put down for him. It had been an insurance measure, but now it was Joel's only lead. He'd scoured the Internet looking for anything on a woman named Fern who lived in Orange County. When he got no leads there, he broadened his search to all of Southern California. No such luck. It had been six days since he'd seen her. He'd gone back to the bar only to find that she'd been fired. And her co-workers refused to give him any more information.