The Three Fates of Ryan Love (3 page)

T
he wall they'd jumped had put them inside the grounds of a resort known for its prime location in downtown Tempe and for its picturesque setting. Even at this hour, lights still glowed brightly around the hotel, and as Ryan stepped from the grassy knoll where he'd landed with Sabelle, he felt like he'd stumbled onto a spotlit stage. Straight ahead, wide glass doors led from the lobby to a horseshoe driveway. This late, there weren't any cars waiting for the bellboys to unload them, but a handful of uniformed employees joined a few other people milling around, peering curiously down the street where the red and blue glow of emergency lights flashed. No one even noticed the two of them crossing the lawn to the street.

Things weren't exploding anymore, and the rain had helped with the spread of fire, but the smoke was thick and acrid. Brandy huddled close as Ryan led Sabelle around the corner and back to the place they'd fled. Neither one of them spoke. Oh, he had a list of questions a mile long for Miss Sabelle Whoever-She-Was, but right now he needed to see the damage to Love's, needed to know if it was as catastrophic as it seemed in that last glance before they'd fled. The storm eased by the moment, leaving a cold drizzle and damp gusts behind.

Drawn by the explosions and sirens, people had already started to gather at the edges of the disaster zone. Police tape gave them clear boundaries, but news and camera crews pushed up against it, wanting to capture any grisly detail they could. The businesses that had bordered Love's were in ruins as well as two across the street. Ryan's second-story loft had been incinerated—just as the woman beside him had predicted—and all but the shell of walls had been blasted away. Ash drifted in the air like dirty snowflakes and the char of his burned future made each breath bitter.

“Brandy,” he said as they approached the gathering. “Look small.”

Brandy dutifully hung her head and bent her doggy ­elbows—a trick he'd taught her years ago. She'd never look harmless, but she pulled off pitiful like a champ.

“Good girl.”

Her tail wagged nervously.

Ryan was a big man, used to having people get out of his way. But he must have looked every bit as bad as he felt, because he heard murmurs and dismayed exclamations as the small crowd parted for them. When they reached the edge of the police tape, he glanced at Sabelle and caught her wincing.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded and reached for his hand, sucking in a soft breath at his touch. Every time they touched, as a matter of fact. As if some sensory overload were going on inside her. God knew she was blowing all his fuses.

He caught the attention of one of the uniformed officers and the man hurried over.

“Sir? Are you okay?” he asked, his worried gaze shifting between Ryan and Sabelle.

Ryan had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could speak. “I own Love's,” he said. “We made it out just in time.”

Suddenly cameras swung his way and he heard the inevitable babble coming from the news crews. They were torn between asking questions about his sister Roxanne and the explosions that had destroyed his family's pub. The officer motioned him through their barriers and over to a group of officials, saving him from the media's shark-infested waters.

Woodenly, Ryan told the officers what he knew. He'd smelled gas. He'd called 911, but everything started exploding before he could report the issue. They'd run for their lives.

“We've had reports of gas leakages all over Tempe,” a tired, scruffy civilian with an official-looking badge around his neck told them. Ryan guessed that he worked for the gas and electric company. “All at the same time. Never seen anything like it. We're lucky that it happened so late. No serious injuries or deaths so far.”

Lucky.

Warring emotions gripped Ryan. Thankfulness that no one else had suffered. Relief that there was an explanation for the destruction, which only involved faulty gas lines. And anger, because once again Ryan was left to pick up pieces that he had no hope of ever reassembling. His family had been through so much—too much. He couldn't see a way out of this.

His vision blurred and he lowered his head, rubbing his stinging eyes. Hearing Sabelle in his head telling him she'd come to warn him.

Come from where? How?
Why?

Beside him, Sabelle's soft touch on his arm tried to offer comfort but only managed to churn his confusion into something worse.

A polite officer with thin blond hair and a square jaw ushered them to an emergency vehicle where two young female EMTs rinsed their eyes, gave them water and blankets, and treated the worst of their injuries until the officer they'd spoken to earlier appeared again.

“Just a couple of questions, Mr. Love,” he said. “Any chance you made it out with your ID?”

Ryan had stuffed his wallet in the pack with his money and clothes. Now he carefully pulled it out, knowing that if the officer caught a glimpse of the money stashed in the bottom beneath his clothes, the routine questions wouldn't be so routine anymore. There was no way he'd be able to explain why he'd run from his bar just in the nick of time, yet managed to grab his money.

“Do you have ID, ma'am?” the polite officer asked.

The desperate gleam in Sabelle's eyes spurred Ryan to speak before he thought. “Her purse was upstairs,” he said smoothly. “There wasn't time to get it.”

“But you had time to pack?” asked an officer Ryan hadn't noticed. The man stepped into the light and settled a look on the two of them that he probably practiced in front of a mirror. He had dark curly hair and black eyes. Ryan almost smiled. Reece would have called the pair Starsky and Hutch. Ryan could still hear Reece's laughter in his head.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

“We were packing for a little getaway,” Ryan said to the cop who looked like Starsky. “I brought the backpack down first. Sabelle was still in the loft getting dressed when I smelled the gas.”

He impressed himself with the smooth cadence of the lie at the same time he wondered at the insanity of telling it. But covering for Sabelle seemed less involved than explaining how he'd found her bare naked in the parking lot a few minutes before she'd warned him he was going to die.

Starsky focused on Sabelle and her vagabond outfit. “That's you? You're Sybil?”

“Sabelle,” she corrected with a sweet smile.

The officer waited for the rest of it. When Sabelle grew silent, he prompted, “Last name?”

She hid her anxiety well, but all of them caught the desperate glance she gave Ryan.

Ash still sifted down around them and the cold plumed her breath. Ryan forced himself to stay quiet and let her do her own digging. He already felt like he was in too deep.

It didn't take her long. “Snow,” she replied. “Sabelle Snow.”

Ryan gave a mental groan as Starsky's head came up, his gaze filled with suspicion. Sabelle blinked those guileless eyes at him and finally the officer nodded and wrote
Snow
on his tablet. Reservation glittered in his eyes, but Ryan and Sabelle weren't suspects. They were victims and he had no real reason to question them.

“Address?”

This was the time to cut the tie. To distance himself from Sabelle while he still had the chance. But she'd saved his life. Brandy's, too.

“You're looking at it,” Ryan said, taking her hand and pulling her close as he pointed to the disaster zone he used to call home.

Sabelle gave him a furtive, grateful glance. Starsky's gaze moved from the tangle of her hair, over her pretty, dirty face, and down her ample curves in a quick sweep.

“We're lucky to be alive,” Ryan said, cutting off any further questions, his voice unsteady enough to bring the point home. “We took what we had in our hands.”

“More than lucky,” Hutch agreed, staring at the destruction all around them.

“You Loves get lucky a lot,” Starsky said, brows raised. “Some of you, four, five times.”

Starsky's reference to Ryan's brother and sister and the inexplicable,
miraculous
way the twins had cheated death in the past felt like a jab with a sharp point into a place that was already raw. Reece wasn't cheating death anymore and Roxanne had gone into hiding to avoid the relentless media. It was nothing to joke about.

“That's a good one, Officer,” Ryan mocked. “You should tell that at parties.”

Hutch laughed and Starsky flushed. He didn't meet Ryan's eyes after that. Hutch told Ryan how to get a copy of the police report for the insurance company and a bunch of other stuff he was too tired to hear. Ryan thanked him, but he already knew they wouldn't get much out of their insurance. Love's carried the bare minimum. It had been that or none at all. Once the debts were paid, there'd be little, if any, left to start over with.

“Where can we reach you if we have other questions?” Starsky asked.

“My sister's house.”

Ryan gave him the address of the house his dad had left to the kids and the home phone number there. It hadn't changed since he was a boy and it was the only number he could remember. He'd lost his cell phone in the mad dash for safety and all his contacts with it.

Starsky took Ryan's ID and his notes to his car and Hutch moved on to his next order of business. Ryan and Sabelle remained sitting on the open tailgate of the ambulance, covered by their blankets and numb from shock and cold. Brandy sat at their feet, quietly watching the chaos that went on all around them.

“We are going to Ruby's?” Sabelle asked after a moment.

We.
More conflicting emotions followed that word, but he was too tired to break them down and analyze them.

“Was there somewhere else you'd rather go?” he asked. “I can drop you off on the way.”

“No,” she said quickly, and Ryan felt an inexplicable rush of relief. “I just never thought to meet your sister.”

“You know Ruby?”

She nodded, then changed her mind and shook her head.

“Which is it, snowflake?”

She lifted her chin and shrugged. “I've seen pictures.”

Starsky chose that moment to return with Ryan's ID. “You're free to go, Mr. Love and Ms. Snow,” he said. “I can get an ambulance to take you to the hospital. You should see a doctor.”

Ryan shook his head. “I just want a shower and bed.”

“Me, too,” Sabelle said softly.

Starsky nodded at them both. “You want to talk to reporters before you go?” he asked.

“I'd rather you just stood me against the wall and shot me.”

For the first time, the officer smiled. “Where's your vehicle? I'll escort you to it.”

Ryan looked to the small lot on the side of Love's where his truck should have been parked. Instead of his battered pickup, a hunk of demolished metal sat beneath a pile of rubble. The sight of it made him want to bawl like a baby.

Starsky had followed his gaze. Now he shook his head. “I take it that was yours?” At Ryan's nod, he said, “Why don't I just drive you to your sister's house?”

T
he officer gave Brandy a suspicious look but allowed her into his backseat without a word. Sabelle sat stiffly next to the wet dog. Ryan took his place on the other side. He seemed calm, but Sabelle knew better. The tension was there in his shoulders, in the way he'd tugged his ear once or twice. His eyes looked tight, dangerous. His mouth hard.

He hadn't asked his questions—yet. She still didn't know how she'd answer them, but so far she'd succeeded against impossible odds. She'd find a way.

“How long has Ruby lived in your dad's old place?” the dark-haired officer asked. Sabelle had noted a name tag pinned to his shirt that read
J. Wiesel
.

Wiesel glanced at Ryan through the rearview mirror as he took his seat behind the wheel. He was a blunt-featured man with a crooked nose and a suspicious nature, but the look he gave Ryan seemed friendly enough now.

Ryan's gaze jerked to his. “How do
you
know my sister?”

“Just seen her on the news.” Wiesel paused. “She's got a way about her.”

Sabelle felt Ryan's gaze shift to her and she kept her face turned to the window. His reflection in the dark glass looked pensive.

“Most women do.”

“I hear that,” Wiesel agreed.

She wanted to turn and look at Ryan, see what hidden meaning lurked in his eyes. But she was afraid of what she might reveal herself. She'd always known Ryan had an astute mind, but she'd never imagined he'd make her feel so transparent, like he knew her thoughts.

A slow-burning fuse had lit inside her chest. Panic, some distant part of her, identified it. She'd seen humans cope with it a million times over. It reduced them to action/­reaction. It turned their thoughts into fragmented images and ignited their instincts.

She'd just never expected to feel it herself.

“So, she's lived there for a while?” Wiesel tried again. “Your sister?”

“Yeah,” Ryan mumbled.

Wiesel still watched him in the rearview mirror, waiting for more. A picture clipped to his visor showed him standing against a breathtaking view of red-stained mountains beside an older version of himself, likely his father. Sabelle squinted at the familiar scenery. She'd seen that red-stained vista too many times not to look for the words she expected to see. Wiesel flipped the visor up and started the car before she spotted them.

“When we decided to sell the house, both my sisters moved in so they could go through everything and clear it out,” Ryan said at last, absently stroking Brandy's head. Brandy yawned loudly and lay down between them. “That was three years ago.”

“Some people can't let go,” Wiesel said.

“Evidently.”

Sabelle finally peeked at Ryan from beneath lowered lashes. He slouched against the door, watching her. Shadows hid his expression, but she felt his eyes tracking her every move.

Wiesel gave a halfhearted chuckle and lapsed into silence until they arrived at Ruby's. As the cruiser pulled to the curb, Ryan stared out the window at the stuccoed two-story home sitting beneath the barren branches of a giant tree. He took a breath and slowly stepped out of the car, clicking his tongue for Brandy to follow. Sabelle scooted across the seat and onto the sidewalk beside him while he slung his backpack over his shoulder.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said to the officer before closing the car door. Wiesel waved and drove away.

The house where Ryan had grown up looked like her memories of it. Still, it felt surreal to follow him to the front door. To be here at all. With him. Every time he touched her, she felt like he short-circuited her brain. Something else she hadn't expected.

They paused on the front stoop and Sabelle understood the worried light in his eyes as he hesitated. He and Ruby had dealt with a lot in the past few weeks. He didn't know how his sister would take this latest catastrophe.

She touched his arm, drawing his gaze. “There was nothing you could do,” she said.

Her soft reassurance tightened his mouth. Without a word, he rang the bell, waited a moment, and knocked. At his feet, Brandy gave a sharp bark. Ryan hushed her and pushed the bell so that it rang continuously.

“Come on, Ruby. Wake up,” he said under his breath, leaning his forehead against her door.

A light came on upstairs. Ryan stepped off the porch, looking up at the window. Brandy woofed softly as footfalls came to a stop at the other side of the door.

“Ruby, it's me. Let me in.”

The chain rattled and Ruby threw the door open. Ryan's sister stood in the light and Sabelle could only stare. To her, Ryan was the richness of earth and the colors of fall—the thick brown hair, golden skin, and moss-green eyes. In contrast, Ruby was a midnight sky. Dark hair, flashing silver eyes, and skin like a winter moon. Beside her, Sabelle felt pale and drab.

Ruby rubbed her eyes and blurted, “What are you doing here? Why is your face all black? Is that blood? Who is she?” in one continuous stream.

Ryan smiled gently at her, the look in his eye one Sabelle had seen countless times over the years. Ryan loved his siblings like a parent.

“Do you know what time it is?” Ruby demanded as she ushered them through a small foyer that smelled of cinnamon, and into a living room that looked dated even to Sabelle's eyes.

“Yeah, I know.”

Ryan's tone stilled his sister and she turned a searching gaze to his face.

“I've got some bad news, Ruby. It couldn't wait.”

Ruby's face blanched. “Roxanne?”

“No. Nothing like that. I haven't heard from her. But . . . there was a fire at the pub.” He shook his head, staring at a point over Ruby's shoulder. “Love's is gone, Ruby. Burned to the ground.”

“Wha . . .
How?
” she breathed.

“Gas leak, I heard, but I'm not sure. Maroonie's is gone, too. Mike's, that new breakfast place . . . everything around it.”

Ruby covered her mouth with her hands and stared at him over the tips of her fingers. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

“I don't know,” he said with a lift of his shoulder. “I need to eat and sleep before I can figure that out.”

“Sure,” she said, nodding, her stunned expression telling Sabelle she'd barely processed what he'd said. Full realization of how bad things were wouldn't come until later. “Sure.”

Ruby stepped into the kitchen and turned on the light. Ryan went straight to the sink. He washed his face and hands, then moved aside so Sabelle could do the same. When she looked up, Sabelle found him staring at her. Gently, he brushed his thumb around the edges of the burn she'd felt just before they'd climbed that wall. She remembered the eyeless face that had formed in the smoke. Her imagination? Fear, working overtime?

She forced the memory from her mind. Later she would consider the implications of it. When she was alone and far from Ryan's discerning eyes.

The kitchen had an L-shaped counter with two bar stools waiting at the ready on the short side. A round table and chairs sat in a nook behind the breakfast bar. Ruby sank into one of the chairs and Ryan set some coffee to brew while Sabelle hovered in the background, unsure what she should do now.

“It's decaf,” Ruby warned. “I'm out of the regular.”

He gave his sister an exasperated look. “Forget to swipe it from Love's?”

Ruby shrugged without apology, turning to give Sabelle a direct stare. “Who are you?” she asked.

Ryan glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry. Ruby, this is Sabelle . . . Snow. Sabelle, my sister Ruby.”

Ruby caught his hesitation over Sabelle's last name but obviously didn't know what it meant. Still, it added to the curiosity in her inquisitive gaze.

“Nice to meet you, Sybil,” she said.

“
S'belle
,” both Ryan and Sabelle corrected at the same time.

Ruby raised her brows in an expression that made her look like Ryan and glanced between them. “How do you know each other?” she asked.

“Long story,” Ryan said.

Sabelle fixed her gaze on her sooty feet, saying ­nothing.

“I'll tell you all about it sometime,” Ryan went on. “But do you think we could clean up first? We're both wet and cold. I feel like I'm covered in glass.”

Ruby jumped to her feet, pulling her robe tight around her as she said, “Sorry. Yeah, of course. Take showers. I'll wait here for you and then we'll talk.”

Sabelle looked up to find Ryan watching her again. He grabbed his pack and left the kitchen. Warily, she followed him.

At the top of the stairs, he turned at the first door on the left and entered a room with a wide bed covered by a dark blue comforter. Pennants hung on the walls and shelves sagged beneath the weight of countless trophies. He gave it all a disparaging look as he dropped his pack on the bed and moved to the closet.

“This was your bedroom when you were growing up?” She remembered to make it a question, but she knew the answer already.

“Dad wouldn't let me throw any of it out. I've never known anyone to hold on to the past like he did.” He gave her a fleeting glance. “Guess that's lucky. I've probably got some old clothes in here that'll fit you.”

While he rummaged, Sabelle gravitated to a small desk with a picture propped on its surface. In it, a child version of Ryan stood in a bright blue-and-white uniform with a bill cap. His grin revealed a gap where a front tooth should have been. On either side, his mother and father posed with him. His mom looked to be about seven months pregnant, his dad as proud as a father could be. A small Ruby stood in front of her father, a stuffed lion clutched against her heart.

They looked like a typical American family, unaware that in just a few months, their remarkable twin siblings would be born and their whole world would change. A copper penny that had been flattened and punched with a hole at the top dangled off the corner of one of the frames by a key chain. Sabelle stuck her finger through the ring and lifted it, watching the light glance off it as it spun.

“What's this?” she asked.

He glanced at it over his shoulder and shrugged. “Junk. Won it at the fair a hundred years ago.”

“It's pretty.”

“Keep it.”

She tried to hide her amazed delight, but Ryan's surprised laugh made her feel hot and uncomfortable.

“It's a smashed penny, Sabelle. It's not even worth a cent with the hole in it.”

She'd overreacted.
Again.

Her hand closed around the key chain and she bit her lip to keep the smile from coming back. Worth was a matter of opinion.

Ryan pulled a pair of jeans and a shirt from the closet and tossed them on the bed. “Those should work,” he said.

He showed Sabelle to the bathroom and turned on the shower for her. “The faucet's temperamental,” he explained. “I'm going to shower in the other bathroom. Don't worry about running out of hot water. We've got a big heater, so take your time. I'll meet you in the kitchen when you're done.”

She nodded and anxiously watched him walk away. She may have come to save his life, but Ryan was the only thing familiar to her in this world. As he walked down the hall, she had to force herself not to call him back.

She showered quickly—an experience she vowed to savor next time—and dressed in the jeans and shirt Ryan had given her, wincing as her sore muscles protested. It felt very intimate, wearing his clothes . . . feeling the brush of them against her skin. It worried her, how much she liked it. Carefully she tucked the penny key chain into her pocket. It might not have been intended as a gift, but she could pretend.

The bathroom mirror bounced back a steamy reflection of a young woman with dark hair and pale skin. A fringe of black lashes framed blue eyes, making the color seem brilliant. Bangs brushed her brows.

It was hard to evaluate herself, but Ryan couldn't keep his eyes off her. That had to be a good thing. It would certainly make it easier to win him over.

She hurried back to his room and waited for him to return. No way was she up to facing Ruby on her own. Ryan stepped in a few minutes later, stopping abruptly when he saw her perched on his bed. He wore a towel at his hips and nothing else. For a moment Sabelle could only gape. Fully clothed in the trappings of civilization, Ryan Love made her heart stutter and skip, but half naked and dripping wet he took her breath away.

Water made a slow and lazy trail from his wet hair to his shoulders, meandering through the light dusting of hair on his bare chest, down to the point where the towel was cinched. She stared with fascination at the play of light on his flesh, the smooth contours and intriguing slope of muscle and bone. An ugly bruise spread up from his ribs. Nicks and cuts and a few burns marred his arms and shoulders, but it was the trail of brown hair that led from his flat belly to beneath the towel that caught her attention for a long, drawn-out moment.

She jerked her gaze back up to find him watching her with those incredible green eyes. The message she read in them sparked another chain reaction she couldn't control.