Bound Guardian Angel (42 page)

Sam finished for him. “Love her?”

A chill ran down his back, and he swallowed
without nodding. But he could tell Sam knew she’d hit the monkey
with the banana.

Sam’s eyebrows rose, creating cute wrinkles
in her forehead. “If you want to know what I think—”

“I’m not sure I do.”

She crossed her arms and tilted her head.
“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway, Mr. Grumpy. I personally think
Trace has mated her and just doesn’t know it, yet.”

Micah sighed and closed his eyes. There went
the last of his good mood. Just—
poof!
—right out the
door.

“Now I think
I’m
going to be
sick.”

Sam smacked his shoulder again. “Would you
grow up for five seconds and help me figure out how we’re going to
get those two to see what’s going on between them?”

“I don’t want them to see what’s going on
between them.”

Sam huffed and adjusted her crossed arms as
she cocked her head in a show of irritation.

“Fine,” he surrendered, jacking his hands up
on his hips. “What do you want me to do?”

He could think of about a hundred other
things he’d rather be doing right now than discussing Trace and
Cordray’s romantic status. Furthermore, if Trace had mated that
bitch, what would it mean for him and Sam? Would Trace up and
leave?

He couldn’t deny his mate anything she set
her sights on, though. And right now it looked like Sam had taken
the coupling of his dearest friend and his greatest nemesis as her
latest project. Until he got on board, Sam would make his life
hell.

Sam brushed her palm up and down his arm.
“Why don’t you just . . . oh, I don’t
know . . . not interfere for once.” She took his
hand. “Do you think you can do that?”

He scowled, not liking the idea of standing
by while Trace maybe, possibly,
probably
was moving to the
dark side of the Force. He felt he needed to initiate a rescue
mission and fight for Trace’s soul.

Sam cocked her head to the side when he
didn’t answer. “Micah, we talked about this the other night. I
thought you had already accepted this was a possibility.”

Pulling pigtails.

That’s how Sam had described it.

“Yeah, well, it was a possibility I’d hoped
wouldn’t come true.”

“Then you weren’t being realistic.”

He nodded over his shoulder toward the
living room. “I don’t like her.”

Sam let go of his hand and crossed her arms
again. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re not the one she’s in
love with.”

He actually cringed at the mental image.
“But—”

“This isn’t about you, Micah. This is about
Trace. What’s best for
Trace
. What
Trace
wants, not
you. You’re his best friend. Don’t you want him to be happy?”

“How is Cordray going to make him happy?
She’s absolutely all wrong for him.”

If only he could wave a magic wand and make
all this nonsense go away.

Sam shifted her weight, the angle of her
head deepening as her left eyebrow arched impatiently.

“That’s not for you to decide, Micah. She
might be
exactly
what he needs. Because let’s face it, Trace
isn’t your typical male. He needs an atypical female. And how much
more atypical can you get than Cordray?” She swung one arm in the
direction of the living room. “If she’s not the perfect match for
Trace, then I don’t know who is.” She lowered her arm. “And, Jesus
Christ, Micah! You don’t need to be such a control freak about
everything. Sometimes you just need to let go, sit back, and let
nature take its course.”

He sighed and took a step closer, resting
his hands on her hips.

She recrossed her arms and angrily averted
her gaze, chin high.

Sam. His little spitfire. It was why he’d
fallen in love with her. Why his body had chosen her as his mate.
Because few people, male or female, challenged him the way she did.
Those who did normally felt his wrath. When she did it, it actually
turned him on.

Like now.

“Are you finished?” he said.

Her gaze lanced his. “Are you?”

He sighed and pulled her closer. “Yes, dear.
I’m finished. Just tell me what you’d like me to do.”

“That’s just it,” she said. “I don’t want
you to do anything. Just let them figure this out on their own.”
She uncrossed her arms and played her fingers over the front of his
shirt. “You meddle too much in other people’s relationships,
baby.”

“Well, if I didn’t, they’d never mate.”

She offered him a crooked smile. “You don’t
know that.”

He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Let’s
see, there’s Sev and Ari, Io and Miriam . . .” He
ticked them off on his fingers. “Malek and Gina.” He met her gaze
again. “If I hadn’t gotten involved, Sev, Io, and Malek would
probably be dead right now. And that’s just since New Year’s.”

She patted his chest with her palms. “True,
but Trace isn’t in any danger. Let him figure this one out on his
own.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the
meantime?”

Her grin turned into a playful smirk, and
she wound her forearms around his neck. “Oh, I’m sure I can keep
you busy.” The way her gaze fell seductively to his mouth and her
fingertips brushed the back of his neck gave him a clear idea of
exactly how she planned to keep him busy.

“Now you’re talking my language, female.” He
leaned in for a taste of her lips then bobbed his head in the
direction of the living room. “Let’s get her cleaned up and out the
door, and then you and I can share some quality time
downstairs.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes,
biting back a grin. “Did you see the shape she was in? She can’t go
anywhere.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Uh, no. I may be in the land of the
immortals here, but I’m pretty sure it’s still not safe to drink
and drive.”

He could already see in her thoughts what
was coming next.

“No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”

She gaped at him. “Micah, she can’t leave
when she’s that drunk.” She pointed toward the living room.

“So, you want her to stay here?”

“Of course. Isn’t that the polite thing to
do?”

When it came to Cordray, polite wasn’t a
word that came to mind.

“Micah, either she stays and sleeps this off
or you’re sleeping alone today.”

“You’re threatening to withhold sex to get
your way?” Damn, but Sam knew how to negotiate.

“Whatever it takes,” she said. “I learned to
fight dirty from the best.”

“Me?”

“Bingo.”

“Fine. She can stay upstairs in one of the
guest rooms. With a huge trash can beside the bed. I’m not having
her ruin the carpet.”

Sam let out an exasperated laugh as she
began to lead him back through the kitchen. “She’s not going to
throw up everywhere. She’s—” She pulled up and let out a breathy
laugh.

“What?” He followed her gaze toward the
living room.

Only to find Cordray passed out cold. She
was facedown on the couch. One tattooed arm draped down to the
floor, and one leg hung halfway off the cushions. Her long hair
dangled in stringy ropes and haphazard braids over her face.

Sam nudged him toward the fridge. “Grab a
bottle of water.”

“Why?” He yanked open the refrigerator door.
“Are you going to throw it on her?”

She rolled her eyes and quietly opened the
cabinet. “No, I’m not going to throw it on her.” She huffed and
shook her head as she pulled the bottle of aspirin from the top
shelf then reached for the water. “I’m making a care package.”

He slapped the bottle in her palm and
grinned. “I like my idea better.”

“Of course you do,” she whispered,
practically tiptoeing toward the couch.

She needn’t have worried about being quiet.
It didn’t look like cannon fire could bring Cordray back to
consciousness.

Sam set the aspirin and water on the coffee
table beside Cordray’s cell phone then rejoined him in the kitchen,
taking his hand and tugging him toward the door leading to the
basement. “Come on, baby, let’s go play.”

Play? Now they were getting somewhere.

With renewed interest, he turned his
attention toward his mate and away from the monster sprawled in
inebriated hibernation on his couch.

The idea that Cordray and Trace were on a
collision course with one another didn’t sit well with him, but
there seemed to be little he could do to prevent it.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he just needed to
stand back and let nature take its course. If Cordray was indeed
Trace’s mate, he wouldn’t be whole until he let himself claim
her.

And more than anything, Micah wanted his
best friend to be happy. He just thought that happiness would come
at his hands, not Cordray’s.

Chapter 22

Trace jostled awake to the uncontrollable giggles of
two ornery toddlers jumping up and down on his bed.

“Wake up, Twace!” Null flopped himself over
Trace’s stomach then rolled all the way down to his ankles.

His laughter reminded him of bubbles
popping.

Aiden dropped to her knees beside his head
and pitter-pattered her palms on his cheeks.

“You’re awake!”

Of course he was awake. A pint-sized
earthquake was going down in his bedroom.

“No, I’m not.” He closed his eyes as he
reached around and tickled Aiden’s tiny bare foot.

She squealed and fell backward then shot
back to her feet. A moment later, she unexpectedly jumped on his
torso, landing like a trick rider on a pony.

His eyes popped open as the air whooshed out
of him. “Oomph!”

She laughed and straddled his stomach,
kicking her legs as if she were trying to spur him on.

Null crawled back up the bed, his blond hair
curled over his eyes. He grabbed Trace’s hand and shoved it into
the mattress. “Gotcha! Aidy, get his othew hand!”

She swooped to the side with a screech and
landed on his arm.

Trace pretended he couldn’t move. “Oh no.
I’m trapped. You got me.” Pretending to be their helpless captive
was worth hearing their triumphant growls, which really sounded
more like kittens purring, making them even more adorable.

He hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.
Pure, genuine fun. The kind he’d never had as a kid himself.

“What about food and water?” He feigned
thirst, smacking his lips together. “What if I’m hungry and
thirsty?” In fact, he was both right now. He always was upon
waking. “You’re not going to let me go hungry or die of thirst, are
you?”

Aiden giggled. “You’re silly.”

“Am not.”

Null tag-teamed into the conversation. “Yes
you are.” Are came out sounding more like awe.

“No fair. It’s two against one.” He began to
pull his hands free.

Both of them doubled their efforts, trying
to secure him. He let them think they had him for a few more
seconds. Then he yanked his hands from their holds and scooped them
up, one in each arm, laughing.

Their giggles were infectious. Innocent and
cherubic. He had never heard anything sweeter and more
heart-warming.

“You guys are trouble,” he said, sitting up
and swinging his legs off the bed.

“Nuh-uh!” They spoke in unison, slinging
their arms around his neck, holding on like little crabs.

The cinnamon scent of french toast hit his
nose, making his stomach growl.

“Mmmm, smells like breakfast is ready.” He
stood, his arms supporting their tiny rumps as they settled, one on
each hip. “Are you two ready for breakfast?”

Eager, hungry nods and another round of
giggles answered him.

“Then let’s go downstairs and fill those
tiny bellies so you can keep up your strength. That way, the next
time you sneak attack me maybe I won’t be able to escape your
iron holds of death
.” He tickled them, making them break
into fits of laughter as he stepped into the hall.

He glanced toward Cordray’s closed bedroom
door. His memory flashed back to last night and what they’d almost
done to each other. Had she come home after he’d gone to bed? He
vaguely remembered hearing her Ducati as he drifted in and out of
sleep, but he couldn’t smell her intoxicating scent, so maybe he’d
been dreaming. Or maybe she had come home but wasn’t in her
room.

He felt little fingers scratching his
stomach and looked down. Both Null and Aiden were laughing their
bubbly laughter while trying to tickle him.

“Hey, what are you two trying to do? Make me
pee my pants?”

They both threw back their heads, laughing
so hard it was a wonder they could catch their breath.

“Coco won’t like it if I do that.” He set
them down and took their hands. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

Once they reached the dining room, Null and
Aiden let go of his hands and darted into the kitchen.

He followed, hoping to see Cordray.

Instead, Mya was the one preparing
breakfast, with no sign of Cordray. Mya turned from the stove and a
giant griddle steaming with slices of cinnamon-covered french toast
and greeted him with a smile.

“Good morning.” The front of her blue
T-shirt read
My favorite number of the alphabet is blue.

“Nice shirt,” he said.

“Thanks.” She glanced down at her shirt.
“I’m into sarcastic humor.”

“Obviously.” He grinned at her then helped
Null get the carton of milk from the fridge. “So, where’s Cordray
this morning?”

The look she gave him before turning back
around to flip the toast was one that read all kinds of
I-know-what’s-going-on-between-you-two. “She’s out.”

“Out where?” Surely, she hadn’t stayed out
all night.

Mya shrugged. “Don’t know. But this isn’t
unusual.”

He grabbed two plastic sippy cups from the
cabinet. “What do you mean?” He helped Null pour the milk. “She’s
not here every day?”

Mya used tongs to turn a battalion’s worth
of sausage links sizzling in a large iron skillet. This crew sure
ate a lot of sausage. “Cordray comes and goes. She’s always off
working, doing something for King Bain, whatever. She’ll come in
for a few days then leave again. Could be gone a day or two. Could
be gone a week . . . maybe longer. Just depends on
what she’s got going on.”