Touching Fire (Touch Saga) (2 page)

“I hope I’m not interrupting
.” And just like that, the calm within me erupted.

I was slammed with an avalanche of panic
and dread that had my heart jumping into my throat. Sweat returned to my palms and I was left with no way to wipe them without giving away how nervous I was.

“Ashton!”

Isaiah stepped forward, hand extended to the other man. I heard the slap of palms and happily shared murmurs. I let it all wash over me, biding my time before facing the man responsible for bringing me into the world—more or less.

He was handsome, all chiseled features, twinkling eyes and blinding smiles. He stood brushing six feet, slender with a head full of salt and pepper hair and eyes the same turquoise-blue with flakes of green, gray and brown as mine. He wore casual clothes; black slacks and a white dress shirt. There was nothing intimidating about him, or so I thought until he finally turned those eyes on me, and I froze like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi.

“Fallon.” His smile was soft, sad, but blazing with a light only my mother had ever worn when looking at me—love. “You’ve grown.”

It
was a lame joke, yet it was kind of funny. The last time he’d seen me, I’d been four so, yeah, I had grown since then.

“Yeah…” I
voice hitched embarrassingly.

As tense, awkward moments went, it was the worst. My mind remained stubbor
nly blank, probably giving me an air of idiocy. I didn’t know what to do with my hands; they suddenly seemed so big and dumb hanging at my sides uselessly and I couldn’t stop wondering if I was slouching.

“How are you?” he asked.

I did that stupid shoulder jerk thing. It was a toss between a shrug and a nervous twitch. “Okay. And you are? Okay, I mean. Are you okay?” I grimaced at my own rambling. “How are you?”

His lips curled in the faintest smile. “
Nervous.” It was comforting how easily he said it. It was also really good to know I wasn’t the only one. “I’ve been waiting for this moment a very long time.”

He moved
then. It was quick, or maybe I blinked, but he was suddenly in front of me and I was engulfed in a fierce embrace so tight I almost couldn’t breathe. I didn’t complain. It wasn’t tight enough. He smelled like a dad, or what I always imagined a dad would smell like—warm, loving and strong.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured vehemently into my temple.

“I missed you, too,” I replied, still grappling with the knowledge that I had a dad, a dad I was told was dead my whole life. A dad who wanted me.

He pushed me back to arm’s length and stared down at me, his eyes unnaturally large and bright. Mom used to get that look during romance movies, just before she started crying. But nothing about Ashton suggested he was a closet romance crier. No, he was impenetrable, resolute … sturdy. Still, his eyes shone down at me like liquid pools. My own were filmy.

He smiled, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “Call me Ashton, unless you prefer Dad or Ash. Whatever is easier for you.” He paused, before adding, “You must have a million questions.”

My smile quivered. “Yeah.”

He gave my shoulders another squeeze. “Let me take you home. You must be starving.”

Home … I’d never had one of those before. I grew up in motel rooms on greasy, cardboard food and plastic cups. I lived out of a single duffle bag, out of the back of my mom’s Impala. The closest thing I’d ever come
to healthy living was the tomatoes and lettuce on my burger and remembering not to fall asleep against the car window while the sun was highest in the sky. But I didn’t eat food anymore. At least, I hadn’t in almost a month.

“Actually, there are a few things we need to tell you first.” Isaiah took a step forward.

Ashton glanced from me to Isaiah, curiosity bright in his eyes. He straightened and removed his hands from my shoulders, leaving a cold sensation behind. “Is here all right?”

Isaiah glanced around at the people rushing around us. “Perhaps somewhere else?”

Ashton nodded, all business now. He surveyed the park, the movement quick, but I knew it was thorough. He didn’t seem like the sort to leave anything half-assed. “There is a café down the block. It’s usually very quiet around this time and the staff doesn’t meddle.”

I learned quickly what that meant. As soon as we walked into the tiny corner café, the staff vanished. Not into thin air, but they got one head nod from Ashton and walked a straight line into the back room, closing the door behind them.

“I own the building,” Ashton said when he caught me staring in awe.

“I guess being a doctor pays really well, huh?”
I mused
.

“Doctor?” Ashton peered over his shoulder at me, his features perplexed.

I looked towards Isaiah, waiting for him to explain, because he’d been the one to tell me my father was a doctor. But he was equally puzzled by Ashton’s confusion.

“Oh!” Ashton seemed to realize something. He nodded. “Yes. Doctor.”
He closed and locked the glass door behind us. He turned and motioned towards the fifteen or so empty tables around the place. “Why don’t we talk?”

After a curious glance between me and Isaiah, we
took the seat furthest from the wall of windows, right in the corner so we had a clear view of the whole café, including the front door.

“You are a doctor, right?” I pressed. “I mean, that’s how you met Garrison, isn’t it?”

He cleared his throat and I could tell right away I wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell me.

“I’m not a doctor,” he said slowly, looking from me to Isaiah. “
That was what I’d told your mother I was when we first met.”

“So what are you then?” This was from Isaiah, who looked even more betrayed by the confession than I felt.

Ashton lowered his gaze to the tabletop. “I’m many things,” he began slowly.

“But all these years…” Isaiah shook his head. “You told me—”

“I know.” Ashton looked him square in the face. “I will explain everything in due time, Isaiah. For now, I think we have more important things to discuss.” He cast me a pointed glance.

The muscles in Isaiah’s jaw flexed, but he reined in the frustration I could feel pouring off him into me.
I had to restrain the urge to reach for his hand.

“Garrison has become more persistent in his hunt for Fallon,” Isaiah mumbled, unable to conceal the grudge in his tone.
“We can hardly go a day without an attack. Whoever his tracker is, they’re very powerful. I haven’t been able to sense them anywhere near us, yet they always seem to know where we are.”

Ashton nodded as though this made sense. “My sources
have informed me of a great surge in numbers this last few weeks. Terrell has found a new source of power from somewhere and he’s not wasting any time using it. I think it’s only a matter of time before his forces close in on you.”

“Are you a spy?” I blurted.

Ashton blinked. Then he broke into a deep rumbling laugh. “No, but I make it my business to keep feelers in all things noteworthy, and Terrell has a particular place in my interests.”

“Isaiah tells me you’ve been rescuing the children
Garrison—”

“He’d be both wrong and right,” Ashton interrupted. “
I do my best to rescue those I can, but they aren’t as many children as there once had been. There are a few, but those remaining, Terrell guards very closely. I haven’t
rescued
anyone in nearly a year.”

“
If not children, then what—”

Ashton put his hand up, stopping my tumble of questions. “Let’s talk about all that later.
Right now, I want to hear your news.”

I wanted to press.
I still had so many questions. But he was right. We could talk about those things later. We had, after all, all the time in the world.

“I
told you about our run in with Maia and Yuri,” Isaiah began.

Ashton nodded. “Yes, how they found Fallon. Terrell no
doubt sent them out of desperation. Maia is not someone Terrell would send if the situation hadn’t gotten out of hand. She’s the most evil creature I have ever encountered and that is saying quite a bit.”

Isaiah nodded. “We managed to evade him for a while, before we were captured.
We were taken to Garrison’s home just north of Whistler. I don’t know the exact location, but I can find it if I tried.”

Ashton shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve
known for a while where he calls home. However, had I known you were there, I would have come to get you myself.”

“Contact was impossible,” Isaiah replied. “We were heavily guarded, right until the end when we managed to escape.”

“And did he ever tell you what his plans were?” Ashton wondered.

I shook my head before Isaiah could tell him otherwise. Ashton may have been my father, the man whose blood ran through my veins, but he’d also been partners with Garrison once upon a time and I was too paranoid to trust anyone. I trusted people who lied even less.
Whether or not he’d ever been a doctor was a moot point. It was him lying about it that only increased my distrust. Plus I hadn’t forgotten Mom’s last warnings to me not to trust Ashton.

Isaiah must have
sensed my need not to share the fact that we were potential weapons of mass destruction, because he didn’t bring it up. Instead, he veered the topic back to our escape.

“Fallon
saved
my life.” Isaiah cast me a level glance as though daring me to contradict his claim.

He
was wrong. I hadn’t saved his life. He may have gotten shot, but with his accelerated healing, he hadn’t been in any real danger.

“
Well, you did what you had to,” Ashton said at once, voice unwavering. “Had it not been them, it would have been you.”

Was that how murderers looked themselves in the mirror? Justification? How did one justify taking a life?

“After we escaped, we laid low for a couple of weeks and tried to regroup before we contacted you,” Isaiah finished at last.

By
laid low
, he meant me vehemently dragging my feet on the whole situation and him needing a month to convince me that it was time I met my father.

Despite my need for answer and safety, I could never shake the uncertainty the idea of meeting Ashton always provoked.
But I was really tired of running. I was tired of not having options. I was tired of being tired. Plus, Isaiah was so adamant that Ashton was the good guy. Maybe he was right.

Ashton
, who had been listening attentively to Isaiah, beamed. “Remarkable!” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely remarkable. I always knew Terrell was unstable, but this proves that his lunacy goes much deeper than face value.”

You think?
I wanted to say. His brilliant observation was, oh, seventeen years too late.

“There’s more,” Isaiah murmured, hesitant. “Garrison’s still alive and out for blood.”

Ashton nodded. “You’ll be safe at Luxuria. I made the mistake of letting you fend for yourself once. I won’t—”

“I didn’t
fend
for myself!” My tone came out sharper than I’d intended. “I had Mom and we were doing fine until this crap happened.”

Ashton visibly winced. “Yes, of course. I apologize.”
He lowered his head. “I should have done more to protect you both and for that, I am eternally guilt ridden. I failed you.”

“You c
ouldn’t have known,” I murmured.

He wouldn’t meet my eye. “Perhaps.”
He placed a gentle hand on mine. “I can’t replace what you had with your mother, Fallon, but I promise that I will protect you in every way that I can. You’re safe now.”

It was daunting to accept. It seemed too easy, and even as a part of me
salivated at the possibility of being wholly and truly in the clear. Yet the part of me that had seen and done too much, refused to believe it. Also, I knew firsthand what Garrison was capable of. I knew that he would never give up looking for me. I was too valuable. But my options were slim. My life was in danger and because of me, Isaiah was in danger. In order to keep him safe, I had to trust Ashton. I had to believe that he meant what he said about keeping us away from Garrison.

The shriek of Isaiah’s chair sliding
viciously across the smooth laminate sent my heart scuttling up into my throat even before he shouted, “We need to go!” and grabbed my arm.

I was hauled to my feet and dragged behind him.

Ashton was up and out of his seat with much less haste. He twisted his body to the window even as his hand went around behind him. The movement was so quick, so fluid like he’d done it a million times, a frightening thought when, a second later, he was cradling a sleek, black handgun. It was almost reassuring to know my father packed heat like some mafia guy, if not a bit daunting. But even that wasn’t as blood chilling as the three familiar silhouettes making their way with great ease across the street in the direction of the cafe.