Rogue's Passion (24 page)

“We’ll need to send…someone back…through the portal…to report this news. Start the search…over there as well.” Rickert visibly relaxed when Neyla whispered something in his ear and began to caress his neck and shoulders.
 

“What can you tell me about Olivia?” she asked. “She’s an unregistered Talent?”

Only that she’s amazing, intelligent, beautiful, sexy, and perfect. And totally wrong for me.
 

Asher nodded. “She’s a gifted Healer, but doesn’t want the army to know. After what they did to her brother, she’s terrified the same thing will happen to her. She keeps a low profile. Moves around a lot.”
 

Now it was Neyla’s turn to curse. “Bastards. I don’t blame her one damn bit. Once you’re in, they control everything about your life. I met a few other Talents working in the army, but her brother’s name doesn’t sound familiar. Does she know what unit he’s stationed with?”

He shook his head. “After they took him away, they got a few letters then nothing. They never heard from him again.”

Neyla frowned. “I was allowed contact with my family after I joined the army. There’s got to be more to it. I’ll make a few calls and see what I can find out.”

“You’re going to call someone?” Rickert said, sitting up on one elbow. “What…are you going to say? If the army finds out you’re alive…and back on this side of the portal, they’ll come after you.”

Neyla patted his hand. “There are a handful of people I trust on the inside.”

“Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to her brother?” Asher asked.

“Well, for one, they could’ve killed him,” she said. “That’s certainly a possibility. But when my Talents were discovered, I was sent for extensive training where I was taught how to hone my skills. While I was there, we’d heard about a place called the Institute, where they took those with dangerous Talents and kept them under lock and key.”

“Dangerous? Aren’t many Talents dangerous if they want to be?” He was thinking of Rickert’s ability as a Fire-Talent, which allowed him to set fire to things far away.

“Yes, but these were people they claimed were mentally unstable. Although our trainers never came out and said it in so many words, we knew that if we didn’t cooperate, we could potentially be sent there as well.”

He considered the possibility that Olivia’s brother wasn’t dead, but alive and imprisoned somewhere, unable to make contact with the outside world.
 

“What’s her brother’s Talent?” Neyla asked. “Is he a healer, too?”

Asher frowned, unable to recall whether Olivia had told him or not. “I assume so, but I don’t know for sure.”

She rose and began to fasten her blond hair into a ponytail. “Could you take me into town to make a few calls? I may not be able to find out anything, but I’d like to try.”

He gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you. And if Olivia were here, she’d thank you, too.”

Neyla cast a glance around the tiny interior. “I can’t wait to find a suitable location for the first safe house. We can get a few untraceable cell phones, maybe a vehicle or two. Setting up a permanent base of operations over here will make all of our lives easier.”
 

“You’re riding…on that machine he drove in?” Rickert growled.
 

“With Asher. Yes.”
 

“I will not allow it.” He dragged himself to his feet and towered over her, the wool blanket slipping from his shoulders. He wore a leather kilt, and a weapons belt criss-crossed his bare chest. “It is dangerous and leaves ye totally exposed.”

“Allow?” Neyla glowered up at him, hands on her hips. Asher bit back a smile. This was not going to end well for Rickert. Didn’t he see that? “I appreciate that you’re worried for my safety, but we have no easy way of getting into town. And I don’t feel like hiking another zillion miles like we did to get here. The calls may result in nothing, but I’ve got to try. Besides, I’ve ridden on the back of a bike many times. I had a boyfriend who used to pick me up every day after school, so it’s not like I’m a motorcycle virgin.”
 

Rickert looked like he’d just bit into something sour. “Lass, do not tell me…what ye did with another man…before I was around. Makes me more miserable…than I already am.”

“Good. Then stop trying to tell me what to do and I won’t have to.”
 

“But what if ye happen to be—” His gaze slid to Asher, then he lowered his voice. “—pregnant, as the Fates have suggested?”

She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “If I am, then he or she will have a fun ride.”

Pregnant? Asher’s eyes widened. Rickert was going to be a father? “I…uh...um… She’ll use my helmet.”

“Thank you,” Neyla said, striding toward the door. “So when can we meet her?”
 

Rickert knew when to give up a losing battle and sighed. “Yes, we want to meet…this female…who swept you off your feet.”

Asher ran his hands through his hair. Swept off his feet? How could they know? They hadn’t even met her. Sure, he was attracted to her and had fun with her, but that was all. “She’s just someone I’ve been hanging out with recently. It’s nothing serious. Temporary, really. I haven’t known her for very long.”
 

“But long enough,” Rickert said.

Neyla gave Rickert a smile. “We both fought our feelings for each other, but the Fates had other things in store for us.”
 

That was crazy talk. “The Fates have nothing to do with this,” Asher said, shaking his head in frustration. Theirs was an old magic, gone from the world for centuries.
 

Rickert narrowed his eyes. “She’s somewhere back there, waiting for you, isn’t she?”
 

“I don’t know that she’s
waiting
for me. Olivia isn’t the type to wait for things to happen to her. But, the point is, I don’t get involved with women over here anymore, remember?”
 

Something silent passed between Rickert and Neyla and she exited the cabin. Rickert turned back to Asher. “Is this because of Jenny?”
 

Asher kept his head down and didn’t answer.
 

“You can’t let what happened to her prevent you from being with the woman you love,” Rickert told him. “If the Fates brought you and Olivia together, which, from what you told us, they most certainly did, and you fell in love with her, then you should respect that.”

Screw the Fates. Maybe he was falling for Olivia, but he didn’t have to act on those feelings other than spending a few nights in the sack together. If she thought her life was messed up before, with him it would only get worse—and much more dangerous. Hanging around an enemy target was the last thing someone on the run from the army needed to do. Her life was hard enough as it was.

“Bullshit,” he said. “Jenny and our unborn child died because of her association with me. I will not have another innocent person’s blood on my hands because of some feelings I may or may not have.” He massaged his forehead, trying to rub away those awful memories. “Do you blame me?”
 

“No, not at all,” his friend said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with you.”
 

Chapter Twenty-Two

The stallion's hooves had been pounding out a steady cadence on the dirt road for almost an hour since the last stop. Vallenberg, the village where Asher grew up, was around the next bend.

He shifted his weight slightly in the saddle and squeezed his fingers on the reins. The blood bay warhorse responded immediately, breaking from a canter down to a walk.
 

"Good boy." He patted the animal's sweaty neck.
 

After speaking with Rickert, he’d decided to not to waste any more time on what he had to do. He needed to find out what he could about his sister and accept the temporary appointment of Rickert’s Iron Guild command.
 

He’d considered calling Reckless before he left for Cascadia to let them know he was going to be gone for a while. Rand was used to Asher’s comings and goings, but Olivia wasn’t. However, the more he’d thought about it, the more he decided it was best to just leave. Conry would be fine there for a few weeks, and he and Olivia weren’t a couple. The sooner he accepted that and stopped acting like they were, the better.

The stallion flicked an ear back, waiting for another cue, but Asher loosened the reins and let him have his head. Many of the small villages and towns near the portals kept horses for Iron Guild warriors to use. He'd be sure to tell the livery where Bayard came from that they'd trained him well and he was in excellent shape.
 

The first thatched-roof cottage came into view, but Asher kept the horse at a slow walk. Although he was anxious to get this visit over with, he wanted to prolong seeing his stepfather for as long as he could. If he were lucky, the bloke would be away and he could talk to his mother alone. But since he'd never had any luck where his stepfather was concerned, he fully expected to deal with the man soon after he entered the gate.
 

Word of an approaching Iron Guild warrior spread quickly through the village, and soon the narrow street was lined with people, clapping and shouting his name. It had been years since he'd been home, and yet they still recognized him. He smiled, nodded and waved back. He was struck by the contrast between this warm welcome and how the people of Pacifica responded to their military. There was no comparison.
 

Unfazed by the commotion, Bayard kept plodding along.
 

Someone shoved a tankard of
ogappa
ale into Asher's left hand, while someone else shoved a warm baguette into his right. He downed the ale in a couple of long swallows. Holy Fates, he missed its refreshing, bittersweet taste. Just what he needed after a long ride…and before he had to deal with his stepfather. He bit off a piece of bread and chewed, again grateful that Bayard was well-mannered enough that he didn’t need to hold the reins.

His stepfather’s farm loomed up ahead. Recalling how they’d made no room in the barn for his horse the last time he came home, he left Bayard at the livery in town, making sure the horse would be rubbed down by hand and fed extra hay and oats. Blackstone, the livery owner, and his family were more than excited to help him out. He walked the rest of the way on foot.

As luck would have it, his stepfather was standing in the doorway of the farmhouse, legs spread, arms loose at his sides. News of Asher’s visit had obviously reached him.
 

“Not good enough, are we?” His stepfather ignored Asher’s outstretched hand. There was no ‘hello’ or ‘how have you been.’
 

Asher wasn’t sure what the man was talking about. “I don’t understand.”

“That stud-horse of yours too fancy that you didn’t want to bring him here?”

“Last time I came, you had no room, remember? Figured I’d spare you the extra hay and grain he’d eat and leave him in town.”

“So Blackstone and his family can breed their mares to him and not me?”

Asher had forgotten that in exchange for caring for a warrior’s horse, it was customary for the stallion to be used as a stud and mated to the barn owner’s mares that were in season. The last time he was here, his stepfather only had geldings.

Before he could reply, his mother appeared in the doorway. Although she was still beautiful, she was thinner and looked much older.
 

“Ash! Oh my Fates, is it really you?” She rushed down and threw her arms around him. She smelled as if she’d been baking bread.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, trying not to choke because she was squeezing him so hard. The thing about his mother was that although she was tiny, she had always been strong. At least that hadn’t changed.

She pulled away, held him at arm’s length and looked him up and down. “I always forget how tall you are, just like your father was. He would be so proud. Henry, look at his muscles.”

His stepfather glared at him with cold, hard eyes. “Been gone a long time. How many more half-breed children have you fathered, or do you still have trouble counting?”

Asher lunged at him. His mother cried out and pressed her hands to his chest. He stopped. If it weren’t for her, he’d have thrown the asshole to the ground.
 

“Go round up the children,” she told her husband. “They’re in the back pasture and we’ll be eating soon.”

Like hell I am.
As soon as he talked to his mother about his sister, he was out of here. He didn’t want to spend one extra second around the bloke.

His stepfather grumbled something in the old language that Asher didn’t understand, then stormed off. A small dog scrambled to get out of his way. His mother led Asher to the kitchen, where she proceeded to fuss over him, but she made no mention of his stepfather’s behavior.

* * *

Moonlight streamed through the blinds of the darkened room, casting wide strips of shadow on the walls. Olivia lay in bed, trying to fall asleep but not having much luck. She’d read several serialized stories on her cell phone, played countless games of Solitaire, and brushed Conry several times with what she hoped was a dog brush in the bottom drawer in the bathroom. With everything going on, her mind wouldn’t shut off long enough for her to fall asleep.