Prodigal Son (29 page)

“Rafe still has clothes in his room,” his father said.

“I would love a shower,” Cara said, “if Tessa doesn’t mind me wearing her stuff.”

“Of course not,” Tessa said, getting up from the table. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can change.” As she passed Rafe, she gave him a cheeky grin.
One room or two, big brother?

“One,” Cara said, rising from her seat.

Everyone froze and stared at her.

Cara hesitated. “Is that a problem?”

“Come on.” With a warning look to his family, Rafe took her arm and led her from the room. Tessa followed a few moments later, but hung back as if to give them privacy.

“What did I say?” Cara murmured as Rafe hurried her toward the stairs. “Will it offend your parents if we share a room?”

“It’s not that,” Rafe said as they started to climb.

“Then what?” Cara whispered, clearly confused.

They reached the landing, and Rafe paused, glancing back at his approaching sister. “Look, you didn’t do anything wrong. They were just … surprised.”

“At what? Your sister asked a question, and I answered her. I know she was talking to you, but—”

“No,” Rafe said. “It’s because when Tessa asked the question—”

I did it without words
. Tessa reached them and smiled, completing his sentence, though her lips never moved.

“—she did it telepathically,” Rafe finished. “And you heard her.”

Cara opened her mouth, then slowly shut it again. “Oh,” she said finally.

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed.

“I’ll get those clothes,” Tessa said, brushing past them. “Your room is the same, Rafe.”

And welcome home, Big Brother
.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tessa kept her promise, showing up at Rafe’s bedroom door to drop off sweats and a T-shirt for Cara moments after they reached the room themselves. His sister winked at him and disappeared down the hallway. Rafe slowly closed the door, glad Tessa hadn’t sent him any more telepathic comments. Being back here, in the house where his life had changed so drastically, he was one wise-guy remark away from ripping something apart.

How many years had he longed to know more about his abilities? Had wished there were others like him? Now to find out that there were … Not just other Atlanteans with abilities like his own, but different types of Atlanteans with different types of abilities—and some who wanted him dead just because he was a Seer.

How could his parents keep such a secret?

The rage slid up on him like an assassin, hooking its claws into him and garroting him until he could barely breathe. He’d imagined coming home a thousand times. Visualized his first conversation with his parents, with Tessa, with Darius. Always he’d expected feelings of guilt. Sadness. Regret. Not another betrayal. And not this killing rage that nearly blinded him.

He stared at the door. Inhaled. Exhaled. Opened his fingers, closed them into fists around the borrowed clothing. He’d controlled the Hunter for years now, never harming anyone more than necessary. This should be no different. But this fury didn’t feel like the Hunter.

It felt like
him
.

“Are those for me?”

He’d nearly forgotten Cara. He blew out another long, slow breath, turned and handed her the shirt and sweats. “Yeah, sorry. You can change in the bathroom.” He pointed to the adjoining bath.

She didn’t move, just stood there watching him. Waiting for … what? Why didn’t she go change? His bedroom seemed smaller with her in it, closer. More intimate. As if he could whisper from across the room and she would hear him.

He wondered what she would do if he kissed her now.

The idea appealed, a possible channel for these dangerous emotions threatening to break free. Break
him
. Something had to give. Something
would
give. It was just a matter of when and where.

She’d said she wasn’t sure if she wanted to keep sleeping with him, but he’d seen the truth in her eyes.
Her brain is trying to rationalize everything, but her body and heart still want you.
She’d opened up completely when they’d been together in the motel room, holding nothing back, and he’d reveled in the honesty, the sincere caring that shone from her eyes when he touched her. It seeped into his blood like potent wine, making his head spin. He craved more. Needed more … needed
her
.

“So you want to fill me in now?”

Her innocent comment brought a graphic image of
filling her
to his mind, but he forced himself to think. She wasn’t talking about sex.

“About what?” Rafe turned away and went over to the bureau, giving himself a moment to calm down before he jumped on her like a ravenous wolf. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a pair of battered gray sweats. “Wow, I can’t believe these are still here.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Cara said. She set the clothes down on the bed. “There were so many undercurrents in that dining room I could have sailed away on a raft.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He opened another drawer, pulled out a dark blue T-shirt.

“So give me the scoop.”

Rafe studied the shirt for a long moment before he trusted himself to meet her gaze. Even windblown and dusty, she still looked hot to him. Then he looked into her eyes, saw the compassion and sympathy there, the willingness to listen. The noose around his neck loosened ever so slightly. He was being an ass, all tangled up in the barbed wire of his emotions, looking to escape in the sweet oblivion of her arms. That wasn’t fair, not to her and not even to him. He’d handle things alone, just like he always had. If he told her this new piece of it, he’d have to tell her all of it, and he couldn’t bear seeing the tenderness in her eyes turn to horror. “I don’t want to drag you down with ancient history.”

“Can’t be that ancient,” she said. “Seems to me some wounds just never healed.”

He gave a short, harsh laugh and shrugged a shoulder. She had no idea how open and bleeding those wounds were now. “Yeah, I guess we should have all gotten over it by now. Don’t worry about it.”

“Clearly whatever it is, it’s still bothering you.” Her soft tone wrapped around him like a cozy blanket, as warm and delicious as hot chocolate and homemade cookies. “You can tell me, you know.”

Did she have to be so damned
sweet
? So accepting? It would be way too easy to lower his already crumbling defenses, to tell her everything and seek the comfort she offered. But if he did that, if he stripped himself vulnerable, how would he ever build the wall back up again? How would he survive, especially here, in this house, surrounded by the people who’d witnessed his greatest shame? By the parents who had just confessed their betrayal?

He chanced another look at her.
Yeah, she’s sweet, but she’s stubborn, and she won’t let up. Tell her
something
, anything. You don’t have to tell her the whole story. Just enough to satisfy her curiosity.

“I never intended to come back here. But I did and I saw everyone and—” He broke off, crushed the shirt between his hands. “I don’t belong here anymore, and it’s awkward. That’s all.”

Typical Cara, she cut right through his bullshit. “How long have you been gone?”

“A little over five years.”

“Why’d you leave?”

He unclenched his fingers and smoothed the shirt. “It’s a long story.”

She crossed her arms. “We’ve got time.”

“They’re waiting dinner on us.”

“Give me the
TV Guide
version.” Her lips curved. “I’m a good listener.”

“I’m sure you are.” He couldn’t tell her any more of it; she would hate him. She was his last island of peace in this mess, and he was too selfish to cut off his access to her.

She came over to him. “I can tell you’re all churned up about something. You might as well get it out.” She laid a hand on his arm.

The solid foundations of his defenses turned to putty beneath her touch, melting fast, like rock candy in hard rain. He wanted to rest his head on her shoulder, set down his burdens for just a while, just long enough to soothe the battered wounds of his heart.

But if he surrendered, they would both end up casualties.

“Look, Cara, you don’t have to do this.” He pulled away from her and tossed his shirt on top of the bureau with the sweatpants. “This is old business.” He gave her a thin smile. “Family business.”

“Oh, I see.” She took a slow step back, her pain obvious though she tried to hide it. “Family business. Right. And I don’t understand family—because I haven’t got one.” She marched to the bed and snatched up Tessa’s borrowed clothing, then started toward the bathroom.

Damn it. He’d hurt her. Hell, he’d
meant
to hurt her, to push her away because he couldn’t bear to see the disgust in her eyes if he told her the whole truth. Well, he’d succeeded, and her reaction sliced through his gut like a finely honed Japanese sword. The fury he’d been battling turned inward, changing to disgust. All she’d done was open that soft, mushy heart of hers to him, and he’d kicked her away.

“Cara, wait.
Wait
.” He grabbed her arm before she reached the bathroom. “Okay, you want to know what’s wrong here? It’s me.”

She shook him off. “What are you talking about?”

“Darius,” he said. “I’m the reason he can’t walk.”

“In case you missed it, he
is
walking.”

“Yeah, he’s walking all right … with a cane.” Once he started, the words poured from his lips like an overflowing river. “Last time I saw him, he was in a hospital bed and the doctors were saying he’d be paralyzed for life.
For life
. And it was my fault.”

She tilted her chin, lips pressed together. “How did it happen?”

“He was shot, nerve damage near the spine.”

She folded her arms, crushing the borrowed clothes to her chest. “And you pulled the trigger, right? That’s why you feel so guilty?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “But someone else did—because of me.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Because I was trying to show off. Impress my dad so he’d give me a job.”

“Oh, Rafe.”

The sympathy in her voice ripped the wounds anew. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk to me all sweet and understanding, like you can feel my pain. I told you, I’m a son of a bitch, a bad bet. It’s probably better if you do walk away from me. From … us.”

“What kind of job?” she asked, ignoring his rant.

He scowled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What job, Rafe?” she pressed. “It must have been really important to you.”

“It was, at the time.” He shrugged, realizing that was the truth. “My dad’s company specializes in security, but not just gadgets. He also has a special team on the payroll that takes on private contracts. You know, like kidnappings and other things where the victim doesn’t want the cops involved, at least not right away. I thought, with my abilities, I would be a good fit for the Team.”

“Where does Darius come in? Does he work with this team, too?”

“Not usually. Dad asked him to get involved that day. We needed a diplomat type to negotiate with this guy who’d kidnapped the daughter of one of Dad’s friends.”

“So Darius is a negotiator?”

That surprised a laugh from him. “You could say that. Dar is an empath.”

“Oh. So he … what, knows what everyone is feeling?”

“Yup. Even us. Out of my entire family, he’s the only one whose powers work on us as well as normal people.”

She chuckled. “Now I get why you call him Powderpuff.”

“Well, he’s all touchy-feely. Poor bro got the girly power.” Rafe grinned at her, and for a moment, perfect accord held them fast, then faded slowly like the vibration of a harp string.

“So why the big fuss over you wanting to work for your dad? Seems to me most fathers want their sons to come into the family business.”

And just like that, the harp string snapped.

“My parents were against me going to work for the Team. It’s against our … their … beliefs to use our abilities for profit. If I worked for the Team, I’d be getting a paycheck for using the Hunter.”

“So wait, wasn’t Darius working for the Team? Why would it be different for you?”

“Once in a while Dad would ask one of us to pitch in, whoever had the best ability for the job. But it was totally on a volunteer basis.”

“From what I’ve seen, your abilities would be perfect in a lot of cases, especially kidnapping. I bet you could locate the victim like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“You’d be right, and I did. But I didn’t want to just be a volunteer. I wanted to make this my career. I’m not suited to a regular job. Dar and Tessa both have jobs within Montana Security, Tessa in public relations and Darius in research and development.” He shrugged. “I need to be active. I can’t sit behind a desk all day.”

“So it seems like working for the Team would be a perfect fit.”

“Except for the profit part of it. And my parents would not budge on that.”

“So what happened? I take it you didn’t just accept their decision, since clearly there’s some kind of rift between you.”

“You’d be right. And this is where you find out what an ass I can be.”

“Oh, good. Normally it takes much longer. I like to know what I’m up against.”

Her wise-guy comment surprised a laugh from him, and the chokehold loosened a little more around his neck, giving way to a glimmer of hope. She hadn’t run yet.

Maybe she wouldn’t.

“Like I said, I was trying to impress my father—or at least Mendez, the Team leader. I knew where they were keeping the girl, and I went charging in there in full Hunter mode, with some idea about rescuing her. When I came back to myself, all hell had broken loose.”

“Oh, no.” She took a step forward, her face soft with concern. “How bad was it?”

“The kidnap victim was okay, and the scum who took her was all right—by some miracle—but Dar was critically injured.” He clenched his fists and swallowed hard as he remembered again the sight of his brother on the floor, blood pooling from his injuries. And the other man … waxy skin, eyes wide with shock, staring at nothing. “One of the Team members was dead—Mike Hennessy. He had a family.”