Wet (Elemental 1) (18 page)

It was a fact he’d already known, and something that had
kept him up late on more than one night. But he hadn’t really been inside her
apartment since then—at least not for any length of time. He hadn’t had the
opportunity to visualize it from the inside. And as he did so now, he felt his
temper boiling all over again. His earlier frustration returned in force, and
Blake pulled his hands from her couch.

With clenched fists, Blake stood and moved to the other end
before forcing himself to sit and wait. Twice she’d been attacked; twice she
could well have been killed. Twice he almost hadn’t been fast enough. He
refused to allow for a third.

We need to figure
this out and find the monsters responsible.
These were the same
people—probably—that had already killed two of his uncles, and crippled a
third. It was so easy for him to forget that, as the accidents had all happened
long before he’d been born. He’d never known two of his uncles, and he didn’t
know the man Nicholas could have been. If they weren’t careful, something
similar could happen again, this time to them. Only now the people close to
them were being dragged into it, too.

For the briefest of moments, he considered breaking up with
Brooke. His heart clenched painfully at the very idea, but the pain wasn’t why
he dismissed the notion almost as quickly. Breaking up with her wouldn’t keep
her safe. Their enemy already knew that he cared about her; she would still be
a target.
In fact,
he realized,
she might actually be safer this way. At
least I’m around, and she’ll call if she needs me.

His eyes traveled to the clock hanging on the wall above
her television, though he stared at it for nearly a minute before registering
what it said. He’d known, of course, what time she’d gotten off work. But it
had only just occurred to him how close the dinner hour was.
We never did do anything really noteworthy
for dinner last night,
he thought as his mind finally switched topics.
Dinner the night before had really only been thrown together as a necessity,
not because either of them were particularly inspired.

“Sorry to make you wait,” Brooke declared as she re-entered
the living room. Her hair and skin were still damp, she was wearing clean
clothes, and he instantly loved the way she pulled off the ‘fresh from the
shower’ look.

“I wasn’t waiting too long,” he promised. “I never even got
bored.”

She laughed softly and walked around him to settle on the
other end of her couch, but she sat sideways so that she could see him. “That’s
good,” she said as she tucked her foot behind her opposite knee.

Her sitting in the exact seat that had been damaged by her
exploding window was not at all helping him keep the image of her covered in
blood out of his head. But he tried not to let it show as he adjusted himself
to properly face her. “So,” he began lightly. “What are your plans for the rest
of the evening?”

“I don’t have any. I’m sure I’m supposed to pretend like
I’m super busy, but the truth is, I’m all caught up on my homework and I have
nothing to do between now and school tomorrow.”

Blake’s lips twitched. “That’s interesting. I’m pretty much
in the same boat.” He paused, more for effect than anything else, and then he
asked, “Think you’d be up for dinner? I figure we could try it more
traditionally and keep our fingers crossed.”

With another soft laugh, Brooke said, “That’s awfully brave
of you. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, for one thing, I was thinking we could try ditching
our stalker. There’s a place about ten minutes past the college that I’ve
always wanted to try, if you’re up for a little drive?”

“I can handle a little drive,” Brooke assured him, a
teasing glint in her eyes. “But it better not turn into a medium drive.”

Blake laughed and pushed to his feet. He held out a hand to
her. “Duly noted. Come on, by the time we get there it’ll be a good dinner
time.”

Brooke reached out and placed her hand in his, allowing him
to help her to her feet. “I suppose it will,” she agreed. Before she could say
anything more, Blake tugged her into his chest.

He dipped his head and captured her lips with his even as
he released her hand and curved both of his arms around her. She immediately
responded to his kiss, her hands clenching fistfuls of his shirt as their lips
parted and their tongues met.

Blake trailed one hand along her spine slowly before he
forced himself to pull away from her lips. His hands slid to her hips, and he
smirked flirtatiously. “Ready to go?” he asked, his voice low and thick.

Brooke offered him a slow, seductive smile. “Yes,” she
replied, her voice still slightly breathless.

He stepped back from her. “Good.”

Brooke rolled her eyes even as she laughed at him, and
together they moved toward the entryway. Along the way, Brooke snatched her
purse off of the dining table, and they paused just beyond her door so she
could lock it back up.

They were still settling in the car when Blake decided he
should probably let his family know he’d be out of town for a couple of hours.
He pulled his phone from a pocket and began typing, having opted to just send a
single group text to his siblings. He explained that he was taking Brooke to
dinner out of town, telling them not to worry, and sent the message.

Though both of his parents had cell phones, neither were
particularly text-oriented. Watching his mother try to text was akin to
watching a dog trying to follow a cat up a tree—they tried the same thing over
and over again, and the more they failed, the more determined they became. More
frustrated, too. His father wasn’t much better.

As he dropped the phone back into his pocket, he remembered
his earlier promise to his mother. “I have a question for you, by the way.”

Brooke raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’ve been invited to our family dinner this Saturday. Do
you think you’d be interested?” It was certainly early in a relationship to be
bringing his girlfriend home for dinner, he knew, but she’d already met his
entire family. And the more he had thought about it, the more he hoped she’d
come.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and it took her a minute to
compose her answer. “Yeah, of course.”

He smiled at her response and inclined his head. “I’ll let
them know, then.”

Brooke nodded as Blake put the car in motion. It was true
she had already met his family, on multiple occasions now. But to have her over
for an official family function, even if it was just a dinner, was unexpectedly
heady. When his parents had first suggested it, he’d thought the idea awkward,
but now it seemed significant. Now he felt the beginnings of very different
nerves.

By the time Brooke spoke up again, having seemed lost in
thought, Blake had navigated them to the interstate. “So, where are we going?”

“A steakhouse.”

Brooke waited a beat, but when he didn’t say more, she
turned an exaggerated frown to him. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

“Yep,” Blake replied calmly. “I’ve heard their food’s good,
but I’ve never been there. So we’ll find out together.”

Arching a pointed brow, Brooke asked, “You remember I used
to live in that area, right? I might have been there.”

“I doubt it,” Blake said confidently. She’d told him she’d
been living in Darien for two years, give or take, and the steakhouse they were
headed towards was barely a year old. So the odds were in his favor, in his
opinion.

Brooke was silent for another minute, watching the traffic
slide by, before realization dawned and she asked, “Are we going to that new
place?”

Blake laughed, the sound escaping from him without warning,
and he flashed a quick smile in her direction before returning his gaze to the
road. “Yes, we are.”

“I knew I’d figure it out,” Brooke declared proudly as she
shifted and stretched out her legs as best she could. “But you were right, too.
I haven’t been there.”

“That’s something, I suppose,” Blake agreed, still laughing
faintly.

They fell silent again for a couple of minutes, Blake
focusing on the road and Brooke relaxing into her seat, until she grumbled, “I
just wish I knew who he was.”

Blake’s attention shifted to her for a moment. “You
thinking about that mystery guy again?”

Brooke sighed heavily. “Yeah. He’s just so … haunting, I
guess. And every time I see him I wish I would never see him again, but
apparently I’m not that lucky.”

Blake scowled out his windshield. “Do me a favor. If you
ever see him when I’m out with you, point him out to me, okay?”

“Sure.” Her brows crinkled in thought and she asked, “Do
you think he has something to do with everything?”

“It would sort of fit, yeah. But I have no proof.”

“Did you talk to Angela about him?” Brooke asked curiously.

The question threw him for a minute, until he remembered
the story Brooke had told him before. “No,” he admitted. “But I’m definitely
going to now. Even if all she can give me is a name, it’s still more than we
have right now.”

“That’s true,” Brooke agreed. “But what good would a name
really do?”

“If we could get a full name, we might be able to track him
down somehow.”

“Maybe,” Brooke allowed, her fingers absently picking at
the hem of her shirt. “But you probably don’t want to start poking around
before we know enough; you could get hurt.”

Blake’s grip tightened over his steering wheel, but he kept
his voice calm as he replied, “We’re already getting hurt. This has to end.”

Silently, Brooke reached over and let her hand land on his
thigh. She gave his thigh a squeeze, and then moved her hand around a little in
a rubbing motion before she pulled it back to her lap.

He took one hand from the wheel and reached out, catching
her hand and holding it in his. His thumb ran over her knuckles lightly before
he laced their fingers together. He made no move to pull away.

Chapter Eighteen

Their impromptu date went off without a hitch, and before
Brooke realized it, several days had gone by and she was once again working the
late shift on Wednesday. She’d seen Blake in class, and they had talked on the
phone a couple of times, but otherwise they hadn’t gotten any time together.
And she knew she was ridiculous for being bothered by that, since she had
technically seen—or at least spoken with—him every single day, but she had
spent a majority of the weekend in his presence and had quickly discovered she
liked it that way.

I’m a moron,
she
decided as she secured another dinner order.
A complete, love-struck moron.
It was official, though she couldn’t
quite believe it herself. She had realized the truth of her situation after
Blake had dropped her off Sunday night. She, Brooke Munroe, had fallen in love.
And miracle of miracles, he was a decent, respectable, reliable, family-man.
Wait until Mom hears about this. If I don’t
tell her in person, she won’t believe me.

The only problem was, she had no idea how he felt about
her.

That’s not exactly
true,
she corrected herself as she maneuvered her way back into the dining
area, to greet her newest table.
He
definitely cares.
She only wished she knew how much, and how long she would
undoubtedly have to wait before he returned her feelings. She absolutely
refused to consider the possibility that he might never feel that way.

But before she could dwell on it further, her new table was
in sight, and she found herself pausing just to make sure that she wasn’t
hallucinating. She blinked several times in rapid succession, but he was still
there. Still sitting opposite his sister, who was talking quietly and hadn’t
seen her yet. Releasing a deep breath, Brooke didn’t try to stop the smile that
instantly curved her lips. She wasn’t at all surprised by the faint fluttering
of butterflies in her stomach.

“Well, this is a surprise,” she declared as she stepped up
to their table.

Blake and Angela looked up at her and smiled. “A good one,
I hope,” Blake teased with a lopsided grin.

“Always,” Brooke assured him, laughing faintly.

Angela rolled her eyes dramatically. “For the record, it
was my idea. I think he thought it’d be awkward to take his little sister to
his girlfriend’s work.”

Brooke laughed a bit more, raising an eyebrow at Blake. “Is
that so?”

It was Blake’s turn to chuckle as he mock-glared at his
sister. “Only partially. She suggested it before I could.”

“Right,” Angela declared sarcastically as she leaned back
against the booth.

Reluctantly extracting her notepad, Brooke said, “Well, I
can talk more when I bring your drinks, but for now I actually have another
table to check on… So, what can I start you with?”

Angela was laughing at him when he returned his attention
to her, and he frowned pointedly. “That’s not very nice, you know.”

“I’m perfectly allowed to laugh at my brother.” She paused
before leaning forward again, resting her arms on the table, and lowering her
voice in order to ask, “Do you love her yet?”

Blake nearly choked on his own breath at her question, and
as he recovered himself, he raised an eyebrow at her and said, “I’m surprised
you’re willing to talk about that.”

Angela gave him a pointed look. “Girls love to talk about
love; even you should know that. It’s the physical stuff that sisters don’t
want to know about. And you’re avoiding the question.”

Having this conversation with his seventeen-year-old sister
was not exactly ideal. Especially since he’d only recently admitted the answer
to himself. Returning her pointed look with one of his own, Blake said, “That’s
not what I wanted to talk to you about, Angie.”

Never one to back down, Angela said calmly, “Well, it’s
what I want to talk about. Conversations have to work both ways, you know.”

“Not here,” Blake insisted firmly. He knew he was going to
get stuck answering her question, but he wasn’t going to do so when the woman
they were talking about could walk up to them at any given moment.

Angela sighed exaggeratedly. “All right, fine, you can tell
me later.” She shifted and reached over to pluck a couple of sugar packets from
the porcelain container. “So what
did
you want to talk about?”

Pausing a moment to glance around, making sure no one had
settled in the booth behind him, Blake leaned forward and proceeded to tell her
about Brooke’s mystery man. When he was done describing both the man and his
suspicions of him, Blake carefully asked, “Is there a chance you’ve ever seen,
or heard of, someone like him?”

Angela frowned and slowly shook her head. “I’ve definitely
never seen anyone who fits that description. But that just means he’s not
stalking
me
.”

Blake sighed and clarified his question. “That’s good, but
I actually meant specifically when you’re at Eric’s. Remember, I said the first
time Brooke saw him, he was here with Emma.”

Angela’s eyes narrowed in defensive anger, but a heartbeat
later, the look passed and she took in a breath. She took her time answering
the question, her voice thoughtful as she finally said, “No. I don’t know
anything about him.”

Blake nodded and relaxed into the booth. He had sort of
hoped to get a name, or a clue as to the man’s identity, but all the same he
was glad the guy seemed to be staying away from his sister. “This probably goes
without saying, but … if that ever changes, you’ll let me know, right?”

“Of course. But I really don’t think the thing with Emma
had anything to do with this. Eric was pretty shocked when I told him
everything.”

“I was more hoping his association with Emma would give us
a clue about him.”

Brooke stepped back up to the table a moment later, tray
over her shoulder and balancing two drinks. “I come bearing gifts,” she joked
as she readjusted her load in order to set down their glasses.

As she set down Angela’s tea, Angela once again lifted one
of her pilfered sugar packets and exclaimed, “Thank you!” She wasted no time in
tearing the little packages open and dumping in the contents.

Blake chuckled as Brooke set his soda down. “Thanks,” he
said, shifting his gaze to her and offering her a smile.

Brooke tucked the tray against her side, grinning with
amusement. “You’re both very welcome. So, did I miss anything interesting?”

Removing her lips from the straw, Angela said, “Your
boyfriend told me about your stalker. And fortunately, I have never seen the
guy in my life.”

“Lucky girl,” Brooke said with a faint laugh.

“So we’re back where we started,” Blake declared,
frustration evident in his tone.

Brooke’s eyes drifted to follow the host of the night as he
sat an elderly couple two tables over. “As much as I don’t want to cut this
conversation short, it looks like I’ve got more customers.”

****

Blake came to a stop in his parents’ living room late the
following morning, unsurprised to see his mother perched carefully on the edge
of the coffee table and one of his brothers sleeping on the couch before her.
Lillian’s hands were curved over Nate’s right forearm, hands and arm
encompassed in a soft, golden glow. He took a deep breath and let his gaze move
to his father, who was sitting in the armchair, fists clenched in his lap and
frowning. His gaze shifted next to the loveseat, where Logan sat. Logan was
scowling darkly, and his arms were crossed over his chest.

At length, Blake moved toward the loveseat. “What
happened?”

Lillian’s voice was tight, but not quite strained, as she
replied, “He was on his motorcycle when he rode into some sort of hail storm.
He’s lucky his injuries aren’t worse.”

For a long moment, the silence returned. The accident that
had crippled their Uncle Nicholas—and killed their Uncle Trevor—had been eerily
similar. They’d been driving, and driven straight into a freak snow storm that
had frozen the road. The car had spun out of control before either man could
have reacted. And Blake, as well as his brother and their father, knew that
Lillian was comparing her son’s wreck to the accident that had taken her
brother from her.

Releasing a heavy breath, Christopher unclenched his fists
and looked over at Blake, who had since settled into the seat beside his
brother. “Did you get a hold of Dean?”

Blake’s attention shifted to his father, and he nodded.
“Yeah. He’s fine, but he’s busy. There’s a fire downtown. He asked me to call
if anything else came up.”

Christopher nodded, and once again they fell silent.

As Blake returned his attention to his healing brother, his
own lips tipped down in a frown. There was no doubt in his mind this was more
than a case of ‘wrong place, wrong time’. It was shortly after eleven in the
morning on a Thursday. Angela was in school, which meant she wasn’t available
to heal her brother. And though Lillian had healing powers as well, her powers
were slowly fading with the natural progression of time. Injuries that would
take Angela ten minutes to heal, leaving her in need of only a few minutes
rest, would take Lillian nearly half an hour, and leave her notably tired.

And then there’s that
fire,
Blake reflected as he continued to watch the healing. Everyone in
town knew Dean was one of their volunteer firefighters. And of course accidents
happened. But the timing was something Blake found himself not inclined to
ignore.
We’ve been separated,
he
realized. If that fire was, in fact, not an ordinary accident, then Dean could
still be in danger. And if he got hurt, their mother would be hard-pressed to
heal him properly.

Blake gave a slight shake of his head, squeezing his eyes
shut.
I’m being paranoid,
he told
himself. For all they knew they had only one enemy. They hadn’t seen any
evidence that pointed to a second person’s involvement. Never, that he knew of,
had there been a coordinated attack.
It’s
just a coincidence,
he told himself. But that was problem. Blake didn’t
believe in major coincidences, like the downtown fire and the freak hail storm.

Looking sideways at his silent brother, Blake kept his
voice low and asked, “What happened to his bike?”

Without taking his eyes from the pair by the couch, Logan
replied, “It’s in the back of my truck. I’ll take it in later.”

Blake nodded, accepting the answer. He imagined it had been
Nate’s insistence that had made Logan bother with the motorcycle.

“Blake,” Christopher began again. “Could you pick up your
sister from school today?”

“Of course.”

Lillian’s voice was somewhat strained when she spoke again.
“Do you have work?” Though she didn’t specify, the question was obviously
directed at Blake.

“I already called in and switched shifts.”

Christopher stood without a word and strode heavily out of
the living room, headed toward the kitchen. His posture was rigid, matching his
clenched fists and jaw.

Blake returned his attention to his mother, whose eyes were
narrowed in concentration. Hesitantly, he offered, “I could go get Angie now…”

“No,” Lillian insisted firmly. “I’m about done.”

Logan quietly said, “Nate’s arm was pretty well shattered.
But the rest of him was just scraped and bruised.”

“That’s good, at least,” Blake admitted.

After another minute, Logan pushed to his feet, pausing to
nod at Blake before he continued forward, toward the stairs. Blake took the
silent hint and followed his brother up the steps. Nate would be asleep for a
couple more hours at least, and their mother would probably need a nap herself
when she was done. The least they could do was make sure Nate’s old room was
ready.

They were folding down the comforter when Logan spoke.
“There’s something else.”

Blake paused, the edge of the comforter still in his hand,
and looked up at his brother. “What do you mean?”

“Nate wasn’t exactly on the interstate,” Logan explained.
“And when I was on my way to get him, I was passed by this old BMW. It was the
only car on the road, and going the opposite direction.”

“Did you get a look at the driver?” Blake asked, recovering
enough to finish adjusting the comforter.

“Only a glimpse,” Logan admitted. “But he was older. And he
gave me a nasty look when he passed me.”

For an instant, Blake was disappointed. He’d honestly
expected to hear a description fitting the man that had been semi-stalking
Brooke. But then the rest of Logan’s words settled in his head, reminding him
of another encounter he himself had had. It had been over a month since that
night, but all of a sudden the memory was crystal clear. He remembered going to
the diner for dinner, wanting to see Brooke, and having an awkward run-in with
an older man. The man had glared at him for no reason before shoving past.
And he was with another man, closer to my
age,
Blake realized. And then it dawned on him.

He had seen their enemies—the man who’d probably attacked
Nate, as well as the one who seemed to be stalking Brooke.

“Blake?” Logan asked, sensing his brother’s distraction and
raising an eyebrow.

Blake pulled himself back to the present with a shake of
his head. “There’re two,” he declared firmly. “That man you saw today, I just
remembered, I’ve seen him before, too. Before the attack on Angela. And he was
with another man, who I’m pretty sure is the same guy that Brooke’s seen around
a few times.”

Logan’s other eyebrow rose as well, both arching toward his
hairline. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Blake said with a slow nod. “I mean, I have no
proof, but I’m positive. It’s the only thing that really makes any sense.”