Bound Guardian Angel (21 page)

He turned his attention to the stretch of
interstate in front of them. “So, how many kids do you have?”

“Right now? Only seven. But I’m equipped for
at least thirty. I’ve taken care of as many as twenty at one time,
so seven is pretty manageable.” She held up her index finger. “But
don’t take manageable to mean easy. They’re a handful. Each one has
his or her own problems to deal with. Their own needs to fulfill. I
currently employ two full-timers who help shoulder the load, and I
have several volunteers who tend to the grounds and do other small
tasks.”

“With all that help, it sounds like you
don’t even need me.”

“Oh, there’s plenty for you to do, trust me.
Our annual fundraiser is coming up in a couple of months, and it’s
all hands on deck. We’ll be lucky to get everything done, so you’ll
have your hands full. There will be gift bags to fill, party favors
to wrap, phone calls to make, and about a thousand errands to run,
and not nearly enough volunteers to do it all
and
keep up
with the day-to-day operations. You’ll be helping out and picking
up where everyone else has had to drop the ball.”

Trace glanced down at his large hands. Those
babies weren’t made for wrapping party favors and filling
frilly-cutesy gift bags. “Great. Lucky me,” he muttered.

Ten minutes later, Cordray took the McHenry
exit and headed west. Shortly thereafter, she slowed and turned off
onto a long, white-gravel driveway that led to a house twice the
size of Micah’s that sat in front of two smaller buildings: A barn
that looked like an Old West general store and a structure that
looked like a small apartment building or dormitory.

The Range Rover rocked as the left tires
rolled through a shallow pothole. Water from yesterday’s heavy rain
sloshed out to the side.

“I’m having a fresh load of gravel brought
in for the driveway this week,” Cordray said. “The winter took a
toll on it, so it needs repairing before the spring rains make it
even worse.”

“Let me guess. That’s going to be my
job.”

She gave him the wink and a finger-gun.
“Bingo.”

“Why don’t you just have it paved?”

“And ruin all my fun watching you toil over
it? No way.”

Trace rolled his eyes. So this was what hell
looked like? On the surface, the place was nice. Deceptively
innocent. Homey even. But once you passed through the gate,
purgatory began. Hellish, burdensome, backbreaking purgatory.

The next three months were going to be a
nightmare. He could just tell.

She pulled into the attached, four-car
garage and parked next to a white Yukon Denali with the word
Asylum
painted in black and navy blue letters on the doors.
The
A
formed the roof over a small house.

“Asylum?” he asked.

She shut off the engine and pulled the key
from the ignition, palming her key ring as she opened her door.
“It’s the name of the shelter.”

“Fitting.” He pushed open the passenger door
and pulled himself out of the seat.

Cordray opened the back hatch and grabbed
her duffel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He reached in and grabbed his own bag. “Just
that asylums are normally associated with the insane.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a sour look
as she shut the hatch. “You’re like someone searching for the end
of a circle, you know that?”

“How so?” He spied a sick-ass Ducati in the
last bay and leaned to the left to get a better look.

“You never stop.”

Taking her jab in stride, he nodded toward
the motorcycle. “Whose wheels?”

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder
then turned toward the open bay door. “Mine.”

Trace’s steps stuttered as he took a second
glance at the tricked-out Ducati. Nice ride for a wicked female. “I
guess it’s better than your usual broomstick, huh?”

Other than a tolerant sigh, she gave no sign
that his comment bothered her as she continued around to the back
of the house. “Much better.”

Cordray rode a Ducati. Nice. He wouldn’t
mind pretending to be a Ducati if she ever wanted to straddle him
and take a ride.

“I feel sorry for it,” he said, following
her.

“What? My Ducati?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t imagine a more vile place
to be than between your legs.”

She stopped and spun around, her expression
one of utter irritation. “For God’s sake, don’t you ever turn
off?”

Not when I’m having so much fun.
“Nope.”

“Well, how about you tone it down a
notch?”

Before he could respond, a loud clang sounded behind
him. He jumped instinctively and lifted his right hand as he spun
around. Cordray slapped it down before he could send a charge at
whoever had startled him.

“Cool it, twitchy fingers,” she said as two
toddlers burst from the back door of the house and charged onto the
deck.

“Coco!” The children tumbled down the steps,
blond curls flying as they rushed toward Cordray. “Coco! Coco!”
Their tiny arms flew out, their stubby, unsteady legs kicking as
they ran.

Cordray dropped her duffel and knelt, arms
outstretched, then scooped the little girl up and tossed her in the
air as she screeched with laughter.

“Me! Me, too!” The little boy hopped up and
down as he reached for Cordray.

Trace stood back, unable to do anything but
stare, curious how Cordray could be so welcoming to these two small
children yet so callous and gruff toward him and everyone else.
Surprising even himself, he realized he actually enjoyed seeing
this side of her.

She set the little girl down and lifted the
boy, who laughed as she spun him around. It was as if she’d
forgotten Trace was even there. The little boy shrieked and
laughed, begging for more.

“Did you two miss me?” Cordray said, still
pirouetting the boy while the little girl danced and skipped a
circle at her feet.

Their bubbling laughter sang infectiously
through the morning air, warming his insides as the sun’s first
light heated the back of his neck.

Trace wasn’t even aware he was smiling until
the little girl caught sight of him and stopped. She sucked in her
breath, her plump cheeks bright pink, and stared up at him. Her
light-blue eyes popped open wide, and her tiny pink lips formed an
O
before she slid behind Cordray and grabbed her leg.

“Hi,” Trace said to her, trying to sound
friendly. He wasn’t known for his warm fuzzies, though. More often
than not, people shied away from him because of his scary
disposition, so he had no idea how a two-year-old would react to
him.

He sure hoped this went well.

Cordray looked down at the little girl, then
up at Trace. “Don’t worry, Aiden. He won’t hurt you.” Cordray
issued him a stern, warning glance to drive her point home. “This
is Trace. Trace, that’s Aiden.” She nodded toward the little girl.
“And this little guy”—she set the boy down as if presenting him—“is
her brother, Nelek, but we all call him Null. They’re fraternal
twins.” She knelt between the two children and wrapped her arms
around their tiny waists. “Aiden? Null? Trace
is . . .” Cordray caught Trace’s eye, clenched her
jaw, and then continued. “Trace is a friend of mine.”

That must have been hard for her to say,
because it was extremely hard for him to hear without laughing. Her
friend?

Was hell freezing over right now?

Biting back the urge to laugh, Trace knelt
in front of them. “Hi, Aiden.” The little girl ducked against
Cordray’s shoulder, hands shyly covering her face. He turned his
attention toward the little boy. Maybe he’d have better luck there.
“Hi . . . Null, is it?”

The little boy nodded and grinned, cheeks
flushed, but he didn’t shy away like his sister. “Hi,” he said
softly. His blue-eyed gaze landed on Trace’s head, and he took a
cautious step forward. “What happened to your hair?” His voice was
soft, gentle, the
r
lilting a bit like a
w
so that
hair sounded like haiow.

Null took another tentative step, his eyes
fixed in fascination on Trace’s head as he lifted his small hand.
Trace could have fit five of Null’s hands into one of his.

Out of the corner of his eye, Trace saw
Aiden’s luminous blue eyes peek curiously out from between her
fingers.

Trace grinned. “I shaved it off.” He leaned
forward. “Wanna feel it?”

Null drew in an enthralled breath, and his
eyes, which so perfectly matched Aiden’s, grew wide as saucers.
“Why did you shave it off? Did you have lice? This kid I knew once.
He got lice. His mommy shaved his head, too.”

Cordray choked back a laugh. No doubt she
had an insult sitting on the tip of her tongue she was dying to let
rip.

“Nooo,” Trace said, drawing the word out. “I
didn’t have lice.” He raised an eyebrow at Cordray to warn her not
to bring this up later, but he doubted she would heed it.

Aiden blinked her big peepers at him and
took a tiny step his direction. “Do you have cancer?” Her
expression turned sad as she dropped her hands from her face.

Who were these kids? How did they know about
things like lice and cancer at such a young age?

“How do you know about cancer?” Trace
said.

Aiden glanced down at her feet and spoke
quietly. “Mommy had it. She died.”

Cordray gave him a look that made it clear
she would tell him more about Aiden and Null later.

“I don’t have cancer,” Trace said, turning a
gentle smile toward Aiden. “I just don’t like hair. Never have. The
less the better, so I shaved mine off.”

Null shuffled closer and patted his small
hands on the sides of Trace’s head.
Tap-tap-tap.
His palms
made quiet slapping noises against Trace’s skull. “Then why do you
like Coco?” He kept patting as he glanced curiously between him and
Cordray, his blond eyebrows scrunched over his nose. “She’s got
lots
of haiow.”

Trace’s voice caught in his throat as he
looked at Cordray. With her kneeling as she was, the tip of her
long black braid brushed the ground. “Uh . . .” He
frowned, not sure what to say.

“The things that come out of the mouths of
babes, right?” Cordray said with an air of dismay as she averted
her gaze. “And if you haven’t figured it out, yet, they call me
Coco. Cordray was a bit too much for their young mouths to
handle.”

“Um, yeah. I kind of got that.” Trace locked
eyes with her for an instant before glancing back at Null. “And you
ask too many questions, little man.” He tapped Null’s tiny nose
with the tip of his index finger.

“Nuh-uh.” Null jutted out his bottom lip as
he fought not to smile.

“Uh-huh.” Trace poked him in the stomach,
making him giggle and grab his tummy like the Pillsbury Dough
Boy.

“Nuh-uh!” Null stepped forward almost
daringly and poked Trace in the chest, then jumped back,
giggling.

“Uh-huh!” Trace grabbed the little boy and
shot to his feet, lifting him into the air.

Null squealed in laughter as Trace plopped
him on his shoulders. His little arms flung around Trace’s head,
halfway over his eyes, and his sneakered feet hooked under his
armpits.

Trace trotted in a small circle, giving Null
a pony ride as he secured his tiny legs in his grip so he didn’t
fall. Null screeched and let out another peal of bubbly
laughter.

Cordray lifted Aiden and set her on her hip
and shook her head at Trace. “You’d better be careful. He’s not
yet—”

“Uh-oh.” Null stopped laughing, and Trace
felt wet warmth trickle down the back of his neck and
shoulders.

Trace froze. Uh-oh was right.

Cordray started laughing. “As I was about to
say, he’s not yet got full control of his bladder.”

“I’m sowwy,” Null said.

Trace lifted him off his shoulders. Null
hung his head and tears welled in his eyes as Trace set him down
and knelt in front of him.

Poor little guy looked like he was about to
cry.

Trace ruffled his hair. “Don’t sweat it,
little man. I won’t melt.”

Null didn’t look convinced.

Trace lightly pinched his button nose
between his thumb and forefinger, trying to get him to smile. “It
takes a lot more than a little pee to upset me.” He grinned as Null
cracked a smile. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll pee my pants,
too, and then we can make Coco clean it all up. What do you think
of that?”

Null scrunched his face and giggled like
he’d just been told an incriminating secret.

“Um, no,” Cordray said. “How about no one
pees their pants anymore today and Coco won’t have to kick Trace’s
butt any more than she’s already going to kick it?”

Null and Aiden giggled, but the look Cordray
gave Trace was laced with a silent warning. He smirked wickedly at
her, knowing she wouldn’t do or say anything foul in front of the
kids.

The back door opened, and a female with
long, sandy-blond hair, wearing jeans and a peach-colored,
oversized tunic, stepped outside, bringing the scent of pancakes,
bacon, and hot maple syrup with her. She smiled at Cordray. “You
made it just in time for breakfast.” The female’s gaze met Trace’s,
and she acknowledged him with a wary nod. “Hi. Are you joining
us?”

“Trace, this is Brenna,” Cordray said.
“Brenna, Trace. He’s going to be working here for the next few
months.”

Brenna’s eyes narrowed as her gaze shot from
Cordray to him. “I see. Well, you’d better eat before you get
started.” Her words were welcoming enough, but her gaze was still
guarded.

Apparently, Brenna wasn’t the type to trust
easily. Good for her. That was a good skill to carry in this world
where it was sometimes hard to tell who your enemies were.

Cordray set Aiden down and gave her rump a
pat. “Go on in with Brenna and get ready for school.” Aiden glanced
at Trace, waved shyly good-bye, and then awkwardly darted up the
steps to the door—almost tripping on the top step—and disappeared
inside with Brenna.