Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance (90 page)

He was about to go back inside when something caught his attention. Tucked into the far corner of the balcony behind a planter was another packing box. Had she wanted to take this one with her but decided at the last minute to leave it? He bent to examine the contents and noticed a red smudge on the side. Blood?

Inside the box were a bunch of tacky curios, including a set of breakable pigs wrapped in newsprint, some half-burned candles, and five black-framed drawings, one of which was broken. He pulled out the broken one first, taking care not to cut himself, and noticed that this one’s picture was missing. Had she removed it right before she jumped and cut herself in the process? What was so important about that one drawing?

He carried the box into the apartment and set it on the counter. Taking out the frames, he studied them one by one. They were pencil drawings of the same young woman. Olivia, maybe? It was hard to tell, though, because none of the drawings were of the woman’s entire face.

He glanced at the artist’s signature and a rush of adrenaline shot through his veins. Could this be right? He blinked a few times to make sure he’d read the name correctly.

Vince Crawford.

Sitting back in the chair, he considered what this meant. Why would a young woman suspected of being an unregistered Talent possess artwork by the Institute’s most notorious prisoner?

He made a quick call to Dr. Longmire and soon had his answer.

Vince Crawford had a twin sister who’d never tested positive as a Talent, but the Institute had lost track of her after she turned eighteen.

“What’s her name?” the Fixer asked the doctor.

He could hear the sound of papers being shuffled on the other end of the line. The Institute, headed by the brilliant but ancient Dr. Longmire, insisted on doing things by hand rather than computerizing their records.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Crawford’s twin sister is named Olivia.”

Bingo.

For the second time today, he felt that sudden rush of adrenaline that he craved so desperately.

Some people got it through extreme sports. Others got it from driving fast and partying hard. Not that he didn’t enjoy those things now and then, but personally, he got the most thrills when he was closing in on his prey. The feeling was second only to fucking a beautiful woman, which, when he thought about it, was always the same. The repulsion, the refusal. Then came the restraints and the gags. He always took them from behind so he could pretend they weren’t horrified. However, chasing someone who didn’t want to be caught was never the same experience. They tried to stay one step ahead of him, tried to outsmart him, but he hadn’t failed yet.

“Why are you asking?” The doctor’s slightly nasal voice echoed through the earpiece.

“You know the unregistered Talent you hired me to find? The one we figured had healed those people at the explosion site?” He didn’t try to keep the cocky tone out of his voice.

“What about her?” Dr. Longmire’s excitement was palpable. He imagined the octogenarian rubbing his gnarled hands together gleefully, his watery blue eyes wide in anticipation. “Have you located her yet?”

Not exactly, but it would just be a matter of time until he did. “The woman we’ve been looking for happens to be none other than Vince Crawford’s sister, and I’m sitting in her apartment right now.”

A series of gasps and chokes could be heard through the line. The doctor began firing off questions in rapid succession, but the Fixer wasn’t listening. Instead, he kicked back, stretched out his legs, and put his feet on the table. He was already planning out his next move.

Olivia Crawford-Collins-Hoffman would reenter her life at some point. And when she did, he’d be waiting.

Asher spread the map on the desk. He thought Olivia would lean over and point to where she grew up, but she turned to face him instead.

“Tell me about your sister. What’s she like?”

He exhaled slowly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her—not since I joined the Iron Guild. When our stepfather would go off on one of his tirades, she’d run away for days at a time, while I’d stay and confront him. I don’t blame her though. He was exhausting to be around. He accused her of carrying on with one of the local boys, but maybe she’d found a portal, slipped through to your world and met your brother.”

“I really need to talk to my mother about all this. I know you’re leaving soon, but I’d like you to go with me. Maybe there’s something she remembers.”

Meet Olivia’s mother? It seemed like the next step in a serious relationship. One that would take it to the next level. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why? It’s important for her to hear this. She’ll have a lot of questions that I won’t have answers to.”

“You think she’d listen to me? A barbarian from Cascadia?”

“Have you forgotten that she and I have seen firsthand who the true barbarians are?”

He reached out to touch her, but thought better of it and withdrew his hand. No use making this harder than it had to be.

“I’m sorry you had such a hard time with your stepfather,” she continued. “Are you not close to your mother?”

He paced to the other side of the room and back. “I used to be, but I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“I don’t know where I’d be today—probably dead—without my mom,” Olivia said, almost to herself. “I admit she’s a little paranoid, and for a long time, I hated her.”

“You once hated her?” They seemed to have a good relationship now. He was curious to hear how they mended things.

She got a faraway look in her eyes. “The night they took Vince and killed my father, she kept me from trying to heal him. I swear, her arms were like solid stone around me as she held me back. I didn’t understand much about my Talent then. All I knew was that I had an overwhelming urge to go to my father, to stop his life energy from ebbing away. But she wouldn’t have it. With the army there and Vince in custody, she didn’t want me to expose my Talent to them. She kept whispering in my ear that my father was already dead, that the blow to the head had killed him instantly. There was nothing I could do to bring him back.

“As we peered through the living room window at his body in a heap on the front lawn, she held me in her vise grip. And when I screamed that I wanted to help him, she slapped me across the face so hard that I saw stars. If they found out I was a Healer-Talent, they’d take me away, too, and for what? My father would have died in vain. For several years, I was resentful and rebelled. I hated her and blamed her for choosing me over my father.”

“But she didn’t, did she?” Asher asked quietly.

Olivia shook her head. “I understand my Talent better now. There wasn’t anything I could’ve done to help him. His soul had already been untethered from his body.” She exhaled slowly, lost in her thoughts.  

Putting his palms on the wall, he let his head sag between his shoulder blades. He wanted to tell her his darkest secrets. Lay his head in her lap and pour out what had happened to Jenny. Even though it had been a long time ago, the horror and guilt was still as fresh in his mind as if it were yesterday.

How could he hope to share what had happened if he couldn’t handle it himself? Several years ago, in a moment of stupidity, he’d broken down and told his family, thinking they’d provide some sort of comfort. What a huge mistake that had been. His stepfather ranted how he never should’ve gotten involved with a female from the other side of the portal. Her death was Asher’s fault. If he’d shagged her once or twice and moved on like he should have, she wouldn’t have been caught in the army’s crosshairs.

For once, his bloody stepfather had been right. Asher had let his yearning to be loved and his desire to belong cloud his better judgment. He should’ve stayed away from her. But how could he have left a pregnant Jenny to raise their child on her own? What kind of a man would he have been then?

***

The moment Olivia spotted the St. Anthony necklace on Asher’s desk, she knew this was it. He was leaving. He hadn’t taken it off since she’d put it on him the night they first met.

She found him in the garage, straddling a neon green motorcycle. Given the high fenders and nubby tires, it reminded her of the motocross bikes they’d seen at the rally, but his was sparkling clean. He turned the ignition and the throaty engine sprang to life. After adjusting his sunglasses, he reached for the grips, revved the motor a few times and zoomed out of the garage with an ease that suggested he’d done this a thousand times.

Was he planning to ride the motocross course or was he going somewhere else?

Disappointment weighed on her heart as he turned onto the highway, opposite the park entrance. He wasn’t riding the course, but she had no idea where he was going. And she’d been standing here long enough that he should’ve noticed her.

Conry was sprawled on the cool cement floor by the door, wagging his tail. At least she knew Asher would be back at some point. He obviously had a lot on his mind and needed some time alone.

“Want to go for a walk?” she asked Conry. And just like that, the dog was on his feet. “Guess that’s a yes.”

She headed across the back parking lot, Conry trotting alongside with his tongue lolling out. The dirt bike park wasn’t set to open for another few weeks, so there should be plenty of places to go without worrying about being run over.

Rand had explained that the rainy weather in the winter made the course too dangerous, so the park was shut down to the public from November through May. Opening weekend was a few weeks away and the place would be packed. She’d be checking in the overnight campers as they arrived and assigning them their spaces. Her family had gone camping a lot when she was younger, so she was familiar with the process. One of the items on her father’s bucket list had been to camp in every state. He’d died ten states short of his goal.

As she wound through the dirt trails, she pulled out her phone and punched in a number. Her mom answered on the second ring.

“I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Are you doing okay, honey?”

No matter how often Olivia called, she always got the same guilt trip. Her mom never thought she called enough.

“I got settled into my friend’s place, so I thought I’d see what you’ve been up to.”

“How long are you planning on staying there?” she asked.

“I’m not sure yet.” Olivia didn’t want to give too many details over the phone. They’d never had any indication that someone was listening in, but it was best to remain cautiously vigilant.

“Very good, then,” her mother said, understanding. “Hey, what in the world is going on with that fighter guy?”

Olivia was confused. “David? What are you talking about? We broke up months ago. I told you that.”

“He’s called a few times, looking for you.”

Olivia stopped in her tracks. Her mother continued talking but she didn’t hear what she was saying because the roaring noise in her ears was too loud.

“How did he get your number?”

“I don’t know. I was going to ask you the same thing. You didn’t list it on any employment forms, did you?”

“No. I’d never do that.” She felt as though she might vomit and a bead of sweat ran down her back. It made no sense that he’d been able to track down her mother. “Let me guess. He’s got a paycheck for me, which isn’t true, by the way.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“He’s left me several messages as well. What did you tell him?”

“Just that I hadn’t heard from you in ages. I lied and said we had a falling out.”

Olivia laughed. “Nice job, Mom.”

“Well, I do have my moments of brilliance.”

She sure did. Now, if only David bought it.

“So what does he really want?” her mother asked.

“I think it’s a ruse to get me to come back. My guess is that he’s in over his head and losing money again, so he thinks if I come back, I could heal the fighters he’s been betting on to win.” Olivia braced herself for another scolding and wasn’t disappointed. The conversation always went something like this, and today was no exception:

Mom: For God’s sake, Olivia, what possessed you to date a man like that in the first place? What were you thinking?

Olivia: Tell me about it. (Agreeing with your mother was always a good way to start out.)

Mom: I could’ve told you he was nothing but trouble with that underground fight club. All the gambling, the alcohol, the drugs.

Olivia: I should’ve known better. (A little self-deprecation never hurt, either.)

Mom: Yes, and you should’ve known better than to have trusted him with the knowledge of you-know-what.

Olivia: Yeah, you’re right. (What her mother never understood was that the impulse to heal an injured person was a hard one to control. Like a non-addict who doesn’t truly understand the pull that drugs have on a junkie. Walking away or ignoring the urge didn’t always work.)

She shuddered to think what her mother would do if she knew Olivia was sleeping with an Iron Guild warrior from Cascadia who knew she was a Healer-Talent. Total freak-out would be high on the list of possibilities.

“If he calls back, tell him you’re going to report him for harassment.” Not that she thought it would work, but it was at least worth a try.

A rabbit darted across the path in front of her, only to hesitate in front of some bushes a few feet away. Conry froze, not moving a muscle, his dark eyes affixed to his prey. Slowly, as if he were tiptoeing, he lifted one paw, set it down, and then another. Suddenly, the rabbit took off down the path, its white tail bobbing like a flag for Conry saying, “You can’t catch me.” Of course the deerhound had to try, and he bolted after it.

It was time for her to move on as well. She was sick of talking about David. “Remember the pictures Vince used to draw of that girl?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” her mom replied. “How could I forget? You have a few, don’t you?”

“I framed them. Had them hanging on the wall.” She couldn’t tell her mom that she’d had to leave four of them behind.

“Vince would’ve loved that.”

And she couldn’t exactly tell her mother over the phone that the man she was secretly falling for thought the girl in the drawings could be his sister. That little detail would have to wait until they could talk in person.