Malcolm and Ives 02 - Trouble With Air and Magic (21 page)

“Guess my brothers and I were lab rats. Don’t remember all that fussy stuff,” he said with a shrug. “We played Hide From Nanny, although I think Magnus tried Hide Nanny once. She didn’t like being sealed in a closet.”

Dorrie covered her mouth to prevent spewing salad. She finally managed to swallow through her laughter. “How old were you?”

“Mom died when I was six. My brothers are both older than me. Pick an age. One of us was capable of anything until we hit college and found better outlets. Kids are animals. Just keep them fed.”

Dorrie refrained from throwing anything at him this time. Maybe he was right, what did she know? “Bring the computer you gave them so they can at least play games. I’m hoping there’s Internet here?”

“Should be. Pippa bought this place for her mom while they were working on their new home. Jean stays pretty connected. Are you doing the dishes while I drive back to town?” He scraped his chair back, apparently already planning three days ahead of the rest of the world.

Dorrie thought he might be talking about the family to whom she hadn’t been introduced. What had changed? Of course, he wasn’t offering to introduce her yet.

“And where is Pippa’s mom while we usurp her home?” she asked, reluctant to let him flee and leave her here alone.

“With Pippa. They’re building a mansion on the other side of town, and they’ve got a cottage and RV there. If I don’t make it back until morning, will you be okay?” He actually almost looked concerned.

He still didn’t offer to introduce her to his family, even after he’d imposed on them. She kept her annoyance hidden. It wasn’t as if they had a relationship beyond a few hours of fantastic sex.

“Can I use the landline here?” she asked without expression. “I need to keep in touch.” Conan might exist in his own world, but she didn’t.

“Nope, that can be traced. They don’t have disposable phones up here that I can find. I’ll try to make it back tonight and bring one with me.”

His voice didn’t reveal anything, but Dorrie heard the expectation in the words he didn’t say. If he came back tonight, it would be to sleep with her. She was undecided on the wisdom of that, especially in front of the kids, but more particularly if he just thought her an easy lay.

But she was confused and afraid and wanted him to return tonight, so she nodded as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Maybe I’ll take a nap,” she said. If he believed that, she’d sell him a bridge in Shanghai.

“Excellent idea.” He kissed her forehead. “Use your magic for good, grasshopper.”

And he left, just like that. Flinging objects wasn’t sufficient to relieve her frustration. She’d have to blow up his car before he’d even notice that she was steaming.

Take a nap
, indeed. She was too wrought up to do more than pace.

Someone had
shot
her. Even knowing Feng Li was free again didn’t explain anything. Feng Li was too old to be the shooter she vaguely remembered seeing at the office.

Why the kids? Why now?

She needed to call Tillie and tell her she was fine so she could inform everyone else. She needed to see how her father was doing. And she ought to talk to Amy, see what the kids liked to eat, what their schedules were, if she could have schoolwork sent with them. Get the real story.

She couldn’t imagine anyone tracing a landline to locate her, but she didn’t want to risk the kids either. Checking the windows, she decided there should be enough light to last another hour or two.

Next step was hunting through closets in hopes of finding something wearable. There was a lightweight windbreaker in the front closet. That would suffice.

Without her lotions and brushes, she couldn’t do anything about her hair, so she let it fly free. She didn’t have to be an executive up here. She didn’t know what she was right now—beyond a throbbing ball of conflicting emotion.

It was well after dark before Conan returned to El Padre with three overexcited kids. He’d learned kids and dogs didn’t fit well into pickup trucks and had to exchange Oz’s wheels for a friend’s minivan. Then dictator-in-training Alexis had yelled at him for not having a car seat for Christopher. And Toto had peed on the floor in agitation.

But the roomy van held all their toys and bags of clothes and Dorrie’s stuff and the weird perishables she had stocked in his refrigerator, with room left over for his beer. As the kids fought over who would sit in which seat, Conan had a feeling he’d need beer before the night was over. With their exotic good looks, the kids were cute as hell, but too smart for their own damned good.

His heart nearly stopped when he turned up the drive and saw no lights on in the house where he’d left Dorrie. Taking a deep breath, he remembered she’d mentioned a nap. It was after ten now. Maybe she’d lost more blood than he’d thought and had fallen asleep again. He knew extremely little about the care and feeding of women, particularly delicate drama queens.

He had Christopher, the youngest and the one with his mother’s light hair, take Toto’s leash, while Alexis and Brandon gathered up the first load of clothes. Hefting a cardboard box of supplies, Conan tested the cottage door. She’d locked it. That was good, he supposed. Balancing the box on one arm, he retrieved the key from under the frog.

The kids poured into the house with all the racket of a freight train. Conan winced, but he really needed Dorrie to help out here. The noise ought to bring her running.

It didn’t.

His adrenaline still pumped from earlier, he panicked too easily. He set the box down in the kitchen and strode down the hall to the bedroom.

She wasn’t there.
Hastily flinging the cottage’s few doors, he realized she wasn’t anywhere, and the fear he’d been fighting took over.

She had no phone. Without his usual equipment, he was isolated and helpless. He had no way of finding her. What in hell did other people do at times like this? Call the police? And tell them what?

Call family and get Oz involved? His brother lived on the other side of town, but he knew everybody. Maybe he’d know someone who had seen her. Conan despised asking for help, but he couldn’t risk Dorrie over his own personal issues.

The kids were clamoring for food and the Internet and the dog was jumping all over everything his old arthritic legs could reach. How the shit did anyone think like this?

Conan directed the two eldest to finish emptying the van while he dug out his phone and told Christopher to fix peanut butter sandwiches. The six-year-old was making an unholy mess, but it kept him occupied while Conan tried to figure out just exactly what to tell big brother.

Before he could finish hitting Oz’s number, he heard Alexis entering, chattering happily. The familiar feminine reply definitely wasn’t Brandon. Conan shut off his phone, stuck it on his belt, and pretended he knew what he was doing as he put the groceries away. Did bananas go in the refrigerator?

He wanted to shout and bellow and ask what the damned hell she’d been doing outside in the dark, but instinct said that wouldn’t be productive. Dorrie had been shouted at all her life. She didn’t need it from him. Or maybe he just wanted to get laid again.

The memory of the incredible sex tamped down some of his simmering terror. He forced his fears back into his shell and waited for logical explanation for exposing him to this mind-bending freak-out.

“You’re back,” Dorrie said happily, entering the kitchen and obviously unaware he was about to implode. “I was afraid I’d have to spend the night alone.”

Despite her injured shoulder, she had brought in more bags from the van. When he glanced her way, she was looking at him curiously. She was wearing a ridiculous jacket over the hospital scrubs, with her hair exploding around her face. She had to be the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. And he wanted to strangle her for her cluelessness.

“You weren’t supposed to leave the house,” he said in what he thought were perfectly calm tones.

Her eyes narrowed. “And you aren’t my boss. I don’t like being alone. I explored the town and met some really nice people. I’m going to feng shui a tavern if I stay here long enough.” Ignoring whatever
energies
he was giving off, she handed the sacks over to the kids and pointed to the bedrooms.

Once the children were yelling in the back rooms, she crossed the narrow kitchen to where he was mutilating already mangled sandwiches. Standing on her toes and wrapping her arms around him, she kissed his cheek. “Relax, Geekboy, I’m not made of sugar and I won’t melt.”

That didn’t ease his jumpy nerves, but it distracted them. Conan dropped the bread knife, grabbed her in a bear hug, and held her until his heart stabilized. “Leave a note next time. I almost called in helicopters.”

Dorrie laughed and covered his jaw with kisses. He was in serious danger of turning to warm gush. He set her down on the tile floor and examined her unorthodox attire. “People didn’t think you were an escapee from an institution wearing that?”

“They thought I was a nurse,” she said cheerfully, taking over sandwich duty. “They let me use their phones. I talked to Tillie, who will tell everyone in the office that I’m in police protection. She’ll probably also tell Zimmer I left her in charge, but I’ll let them battle that one.”

She looked up sharply as if she could hear his thoughts. “And don’t tell me spies may have tapped Tillie’s cell phone, because that’s too far into paranoia for me to follow.”

Conan took a deep breath and concurred. “I’ve never been responsible for anyone before. I’m on overload. Sorry.”

She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Sure you have. All those people who hire you? Who do you think is responsible for taking care of them? You. Just because you do it behind a bank of computers doesn’t mean you don’t carry the weight of their security on your shoulders. Lighten up, Oswin. Let me be me, and I’ll let you be you.”

Dorrie wrinkled her nose and tried to remember if she’d ever said anything so asinine in her life, but the fact that this confident man had actually worried about her sort of spun her off course. Her father had expected her to be self-sufficient. And she had been. She just would have appreciated a little support once in a while, like now. Conan’s support gave her strength.

She finished up the sandwiches, set them on the table with glasses of milk, and let Conan mull over her conclusions.

His
chi
was off the charts tonight. She had to rein him in somehow.

It was rather amazing that she could focus so well on Conan’s energy even though Alexis had claimed the bathroom, Chris was jumping up and down pounding on the door while holding the front of his shorts, and Brandon had worryingly disappeared.

Maybe sex gave her an extra connection. She didn’t think it ever had before, but she’d been less experienced then. Or her previous lovers had been less highly charged than Conan. The man was a dynamo.

Between them, they fed the kids, settled arguments over bedrooms, promised to hook up the Internet in the morning, and pried Toto out of several beds, several times.

She put away her clothes and showered. Wrapping up in the robe and pajamas Conan had brought up in her suitcase, she emerged into a dark, empty bedroom. She’d expected to find him already there, waiting for her, but she realized that was a stupid expectation. Most men focused on sex. Rather than get involved, Conan sublimated his needs.

She followed the light back to the front, where he had already rigged up her netbook to the house’s wireless network. He was tapping away at the keys and didn’t look up until she caressed his nape and peered over his shoulder.

“You can’t run your business from here,” she said in disappointment, gazing at the huge directory of unanswered emails on the tiny screen. “You have to go back to the city and your office.”

“That would make more sense, yes.” He reached behind him and pulled her head down for a swift kiss. “But I’m versatile and easily persuaded.”

“And if I don’t tempt you with sex?” she asked, pulling away.

“You’ll terrify me into wondering what you’re doing every minute of the day,” he admitted. “I do not—I repeat—I
do not ever
want to go through another day like this again. I’m not cut out to be a personal bodyguard to someone who regularly gets herself into positions that would kill anyone else.”

“Until these past few days, I have not ever been in a position to be killed.” That was a blatant lie, but admitting to murder wasn’t high on her To Do list.

He glanced up. “This Feng Li creep they’ve just let out of jail—is there any reason for him to come after you?”

“Is he out for good?” she asked warily.

“The original charges were only aggravated robbery and manslaughter, not murder. He’s out on probation pending another appeal. There’s some question about the DNA evidence and the competency of his lawyers.” Conan worriedly searched her face.

Oh crap. Another trial? Could they do that? “Okay, then yes, there’s some reason for him to come after me, but not Bo or the kids.”

He waited. Dorrie didn’t explain. Couldn’t, really, and nothing she said would change Li’s behavior if there was any chance it was him.

Thankfully, Conan didn’t push her. She pressed a kiss to his hair in gratitude. “I’m only humoring you because my shoulder hurts and the kids need a place to stay.”

Keying off the computer, Supergeekman frowned and rose to tower over her. “Let’s practice this humoring business somewhere more comfortable and less likely to attract curious children.”

“You won’t stay,” Dorrie predicted. “By morning, you’ll have two dozen things to call you back to the city. The kids will make you crazy. I’ll make you crazy. You need your space. I get that. I don’t want to start relying on you.”

“You worry too much.” He swung her into his arms and carried her back to the bedroom. “Or maybe you damned well don’t worry enough.”

Dorrie had scarcely caught her breath before Conan was laying her across the sheets and leaning over her. Dealing with this man was like being caught up in the tide and carried by strong currents. She scarcely had the strength to fight him—or her own needs. Didn’t want to fight him.