The Reckoning (Unbounded Series #4) (38 page)
Read The Reckoning (Unbounded Series #4) Online
Authors: Teyla Branton
Tags: #Romantic Urban Fantasy
Makay laughed. “I grew up in Tucson, and too much ocean sounds rather good.”
“Well, you could always move to LA for a while.” He held up two cans. “Where are you going to put these? Any more room?” His eyes went to the sacks she’d placed on the ground.
“I have room!” Nate ran up to them. “We can put them in my sack.”
The stranger looked at Nate and then back to Makay. Was it her imagination, or was his smile a little less bright? “It might bust that one, too,” said the man. “It’s a little small. But I have something in the car that will work.” He opened his trunk, pulled out a reusable cloth grocery bag, and began placing the cans inside. “The bag’s not mine, but it won’t be missed. I’m borrowing this car because mine is getting new brakes. Where’s your car? I’ll carry it there.” He hefted two of the plastic sacks as well.
“Your car is in the middle of the road,” Makay pointed out. “I can do it, but thanks for your help.”
“It’s not a road, it’s a parking lot. Plenty of room for people to get around. Won’t take but a minute.”
“Our car’s over there.” Nate pointed to the Sebring.
“What?” The stranger’s smile was back in all its vibrancy. “The blue convertible? No way. It’s in great condition. I was noticing it when you started throwing cans at me.”
He’d been noticing the Sebring? The thought of Blaine Cooper, the man at the park, came unbidden to Makay’s mind. Had he called someone to follow her? Who was this supposedly helpful stranger really? Maybe not the Good Samaritan she thought he was. Maybe he worked for Cooper. She stifled a shiver.
“I have a Sebring, too,” the stranger continued. “A bit newer model and sort of a steel gray. I bought it the last year they made the cars, so the body’s somewhat different, but I’ve always loved the look of the older models.”
Makay relaxed slightly. She also noticed other Sebrings, so maybe he wasn’t following her. “Guess you can’t live in LA and not have a convertible.” She bet his car cost him ten times what she’d paid for hers, but her Sebring was in its thirteenth year, ancient really in car terms. Still, it had low miles. She’d bought it while living at Lily’s House from a college student who was heading home. Three thousand bucks, a deal too good to pass up. Back then, she’d still been optimistic enough to believe there would come a time when they wouldn’t be struggling on a daily basis. Occasionally she considered selling it, but when she researched the current resale price, it wasn’t worth giving up the dependable ride.
“It leaks a bit of oil,” she said, “but besides that, it’s very reliable.”
“Good to hear. I plan to drive mine till it falls apart. So far it hasn’t given me a bit of trouble. Well, except for needing new brakes, but you have that with any car.”
They arrived at the car and Makay set her sack inside the trunk before reaching for those he carried. Her hand brushed against his and a current of something passed between them. Instinctively, her gaze flicked upward. His grin was still on his face, but it looked different somehow. Was she imagining it?
“There you go.” His eyes wandered slowly over her face—or was that also in her imagination? “It was nice meeting you. Love your car.” With that he was gone, striding away to once again fold himself into the white sedan before Makay could give him back his cloth bag. She sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Nate asked through a mouthful of chocolate bar.
“Nothing.” She slammed the trunk. “Let’s get home.”
At their apartment in Mesa, Snoop met them with a waggle of his whole backside and several deep barks. He was a mix of so many dogs that his mottled fur looked like nothing else Makay had ever seen, and he weighed more than she did. He shoved his nose against the sack in Nate’s hand.
“Stop snooping, Snoop!” Nate giggled. “Get out of the way, we want to come in.”
Most people thought Snoop was short for Snoopy, though the animal bore no resemblance to the fictional cartoon dog. The real reason for his name was because not only did he sniff at everything, but he had an uncanny ability for finding anything edible that wasn’t in the fridge or too high for him to reach. Including food in cans or in boxes he couldn’t easily rip open.
She put away the groceries while Nate wrestled with the dog. Exhaustion weighed so heavily that she had forgotten to be hungry. A pizza would have to do for dinner, with milk and carrot sticks as a concession to health. She eyed the couch longingly before forcing herself into the tiny kitchen space. It was supposed to be an upgraded apartment, but upgraded here meant cheap counters with deep knife gouges, no room for a table, and a tiny balcony that was so close to the ground Makay didn’t dare put anything out there for fear the item wouldn’t be around in the morning.
When both Nate and the dog were eating, she slumped to the couch cushion, forgetting to avoid the side that no longer had any working springs. She was too tired to even care.
“Makay, don’t you want some?” Nate called from his stool at the counter, lifting a slice of pizza in her direction.
At that moment he looked so much like their father that she froze. Or rather, their father
before
she was five when her mother was alive and he didn’t drink. The betrayal she still felt almost paralyzed her when she let herself think about it. Over the years she’d told herself it didn’t matter that he had abandoned her emotionally when her mother died. He wasn’t her “real” father so it was understandable. Yet her parents had adopted her at two days old, so if that wasn’t “real” what was? She’d thought her father would straighten out after he’d married Fern, but her stepmother was as addicted to drugs as he was to alcohol, and Makay’s life had gone from bad to unlivable.
She pulled her jacket closer around her. Why was she so cold? Her stomach growled.
“Makay?” Nate asked again.
“Uh, coming.” As she struggled out of the broken couch, the doorbell rang. Making a detour, she looked into the peephole, wondering if it would be Janice from the first floor or Ted from next door. She hoped they’d want to buy some of the chili because it was what she had most of in her cupboards. She charged less than what the stores did, but more than her cost. On the free items she made a killing, which was why she bothered at all with items like denture cleaner, laxatives, and wrinkle cream.
Instead of the old people, she peered into the rat face of Lenny Pagolino. She yanked the door open far enough to put her face out. “Why are you here?” she growled in a low whisper. “I told you never to come to my apartment.”
The short man lifted his thin shoulders, his watery brown eyes unconcerned and his stance determined. “I came for the payoff. I want it now.”
End of Sample.
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TEYLA BRANTON
grew up avidly reading science fiction and fantasy and watching Star Trek reruns with her large family. They lived on a little farm where she loved to visit the solitary cow and collect (and juggle) the eggs, usually making it back to the house with most of them intact. On that same farm she once owned thirty-three gerbils and eighteen cats, not a good mix, as it turns out. Teyla always had her nose in a book and daydreamed about someday creating her own worlds.
Teyla is now married, mostly grown up, and has seven kids, including a three-year-old, so life at her house can be very interesting (and loud), but writing keeps her sane. She thrives on the energy and daily amusement offered by her children, the semi-ordered chaos giving her a constant source of writing material. Grabbing any snatch of free time from her hectic life, Teyla writes novels, often with a child on her lap. She warns her children that if they don’t behave, they just might find themselves in her next book! She’s been known to wear pajamas all day when working on a deadline, and is often distracted enough to burn dinner. (Okay, pretty much 90% of the time.) A sign on her office door reads: DANGER. WRITER AT WORK. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.
She loves writing fiction and traveling, and she hopes to write and travel a lot more. She also loves shooting guns, martial arts, and belly dancing. She has worked in the publishing business for over twenty years. Teyla also writes romance and suspense under the name Rachel Branton. For more information or to
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BOOKS BY TEYLA BRANTON
Unbounded Series (urban fantasy)
The Change
The Cure
The Escape
The Reckoning
The Takeover (available for pre-sale on September 20 2015)
Unbounded Series novellas (urban fantasy)
Ava’s Revenge
Mortal Brother
Lethal Engagement
UNDER THE NAME RACHEL BRANTON
Romantic Suspense
Tell Me No Lies
Your Eyes Don’t Lie
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