I smile at her and stand up, releasing our hands. “Come on.”
After a quick phone call to Jay, Jessica’s aura has lifted tremendously. An air of hope lingers, hiding in her energy and behind her eyes.
“He’s coming to get me. Is it okay if I wait here?” she asks.
“Absolutely.” I glance toward the clock on the wall and fight the rush of adrenaline as it spikes my blood.
It’s ten after six.
Dammit, I’m already late.
11
Growing new wings
It takes Jay less than ten minutes to show up at the front of Inner Sanctum Books & Gifts with his parents. Witnessing the reunion between the two of them only concretizes the impressions I was receiving when I was reading her future.
Jessica’s path has been altered and her destiny is now entwined with his. While it might be painful to let go of the old—it is going to mean a new life full of beauty and wonder she could never have imagined, had things not ended up the way they had.
Sometimes the hardest endings—like having to close yourself off from the people who should love you most—becomes the seed for growing new wings.
I should know.
Despite being late for my date, I can’t help but feel hopeful in my own way. I mean, how could I not?
I exhale slowly as we watch their car pull away.
“Well, I can’t believe you pulled it off, Diana,” Ren says, planting a hand on my shoulder. “For a hot minute there, I was a hundred percent certain we were headed for an all-nighter and I’m not an all-nighter kind of guy.”
“Indeed,” Kyros agrees. “I must concur with Mr. Garcia. Your authority was a spectacle to behold.”
Ren makes a face and jabs a finger toward Kyros. “Where did you say you found this relic?”
“Forget that. Where did he learn your last name?” I laugh.
Kyros raises an index finger, clearly ready to explain himself in detail. He opens his mouth just as another car turns up, effectively diverting his attention.
We all turn to watch Blake’s black Range Rover come to a halt near the front gate of the cottage.
My heart takes a leap into my throat as he exits the vehicle wearing a sleek, gray button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up; all tucked neatly into a pair of dark denim jeans.
When he sees me, a smile illuminates his face, showing off his dimple in a way that makes time stand still.
God, could he be any more handsome?
Renaldo whistles under his breath as Blake makes his way toward us. “If I wasn’t taken, I swear Diana, you’d have a fight on your hands. But for now, I’ll just take solace in the possibility that your lady bits might not petrify after all.”
Despite myself, I chuckle.
Renaldo’s made jokes for years about my lack of a love life, but for the first time in forever, I can’t help but be as hopeful as he is.
A broad grin erupts across my face as I watch Blake swagger his way up the front walkway.
“Hey, beautiful. Sorry I’m late,” Blake says as he reaches us.
I shoot him a confused look. “What are you talking about? I’m the one who’s running late.” Glancing down, I realize that next to him, I look like one helluva hot mess. “I haven’t even had the time to change or anything.”
Blake swipes a hand in the air. “Ren told me what happened over the phone. I told him to tell you not to worry about it.”
I quirk an eyebrow, shifting to give Renaldo the side-eye.
He shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry. Things got hella busy.”
“Anas—Blake, what am I to do while the two of you are frolicking?” Kyros asks, wringing his hands.
“Glad you asked, old man. My son Aiden is coming to pick you up. He’s gonna keep you out of trouble for a few hours,” Blake says, patting Kyros on the upper arm. “But you’ll need to hang out with Renaldo here for a few.”
The expression that flits across Kryos’s face rivals the expression that rises on Renaldo’s.
“Whoa, whoa… No one said I’d have to babysit,” Ren says, pressing his fingertips to his chest. “I have a date with a bath and a bottle of wine. Maybe two. We’ll see how I feel. Trust me, I can’t cancel it again—”
“Oh, behave,” I say, nudging Ren with my elbow.
Blake shakes his head. “Don’t panic. It’ll literally be a few minutes. He just had to stop and get gas.”
Ren’s shoulders droop with relief. “Well, you could have started with that.”
Blake grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I bark out a laugh. Blake hasn’t had much time to interact on my home turf, but I can tell he’s going to fit into my world of weird just fine.
“So, you ready?” he asks, turning to me.
I glance down, debating on whether or not to just say to hell with what people think.
“If by ready, you mean ready to take her messy ass home so she can get changed, then yes… Diana is ready,” Ren says, making up my mind for me.
“She looks beautiful just the way—” Blake starts.
Ren waves his hand, cutting him off. “Tall, dark, and fancy pants—I know you mean well, but listen, you’re going to just have to trust me on this one. You don’t take a woman like Diana friggin’ Hawthorne on a date looking like that…” he jabs an index finger toward Blake, waving it up and down as he suggests his attire, then pivots and does the same to me, “and say this is suitable. Oh hell, no, honey. She needs to take a beat so she doesn’t look like the swamp thing.”
Kyros’s jaw unhinges and he covers his mouth with his hands.
I rake my fingertips across my forehead and sigh.
Blake raises both hands in defeat. “All right, I can see when I’m in a losing situation. Diana, how about we swing by your place quick?”
I glance up to see his hand extended toward me. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”
Taking hold of his hand, I let Blake guide me down the steps and away from the insanity on the front stoop of Inner Sanctum. For what feels like the first time in days, I take in a deep breath, flooded by a sense of relief in knowing I’m finally about to get some quality alone time with Blake.
No Apollo. No Kyros. No one else.
Even Demetri has taken a backseat in my mind, thanks to the crazy afternoon helping so many people.
When we’re both buckled in, I glance back at Kyros and Renaldo. They wave at me like a set of gay parents watching their daughter go on a date for the first time. I shake my head and wave back.
“They’re pretty protective of you,” Blake says, a hint of a smile hiding in his tone.
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” I laugh.
“They both care a lot about you. You should have seen Kyros while you were gone. Poor old man didn’t know what to do with himself,” Blake says. “When Ren called, I have to admit, I was a little relieved that I didn’t have to keep him from organizing your house anymore.”
I turn to him, my eyes wide. “He was what?”
Blake chuckles, his eyebrows raised high. “Oh, yeah. Good luck finding anything. The old man’s a ninja when he wants to be.”
I lower my eyebrows and look at the road ahead of us. “Great.”
“I’m sure he means well.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Now I don’t even want to go home.”
“We could always skip it and tell Renaldo we did,” he suggests.
“No, he’s right. I really should take a quick shower and change. I mean, if we have enough time?” I say, turning to face him.
“Reservations are at seven-thirty, so if you can shower and be ready in twenty minutes, I say, let’s do it,” he offers.
“Twenty minutes? It’s only six-thirty,” I say, eyeing the clock on his dashboard.
“Yeah, but we have a little bit of drive ahead of us,” he says, a mischievous glint lighting up his face.
“Hmmm.” I narrow my gaze, wanting desperately to look inside his mind to see what he has planned.
Instead, I double down, trying to add an additional barrier between his mind and mine, so I can be surprised.
When we get to my house, I’m thankful for the warning about the house cleaning because Blake wasn’t kidding. Kyros was busy during what little time he was here. The worst place is certainly my bedroom. Everything is spotless.
I groan, staring at the made bed and lack of clothing piles. His meddling would make looking for the right outfit infinity more difficult if I weren’t able to cheat by using my abilities. Closing my eyes, I focus on finding the sleeveless black dress with the hint of sparkles buried in its fabric.
Within minutes, I’ve not only found the dress, but I’m showered, dressed, and feeling like a whole new person. I don’t usually put much stock into Ren’s obsession with fashion, but he was certainly right about this. I feel refreshed and centered in a way I haven’t been for days.
Even borderline excited.
However, as I put the final touches on my makeup, nervous energy erupts in my center. Even though Blake and I both understand and sense our past connection, this is still our first official date as we are now.
As comfortable as our relationship has grown these past few weeks, it doesn’t negate the fact that in many ways, we’re still strangers to one another. More for me than him, though. I haven’t changed much in the past two thousand years. At least, not physically. But he’s literally a different person—different past, new memories…new body.
I shudder away the thought as I try to keep my head from spinning off on a tangent.
“Come on, Diana. Just be present and enjoy the evening for what it is. There’s no pressure,” I whisper at my reflection. I slide my feet into my heels, stand up straight, and inhale deeply through my nose. With a final glance in the mirror, I say, “Here we go.”
I walk out into the living room to find Blake sitting on the couch. His right ankle rests on his left knee, as he leans back with his arm up and over the back of the couch. He seems so relaxed as he looks out the picture window.
I can’t help but smile when I notice his fingertips tap the window behind him, just like the first time I met him.
Tap, tap, tap.
When he sees me, he drops his ankle from his other knee and stands up quickly. “You look—” he inhales sharply, “gorgeous.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks and I beam back in response. “Thanks.”
I’m terrible at taking compliments, but something about the way he looks at me makes it easy to accept.
For a moment, we both stand there, lost in the moment. It’s like time itself extends out in front of us, as the past millennia fight to catch up.
I take a step closer and he exhales slowly. Uncertainty and excitement sparkle in Blake’s eyes. Reaching up, I run my right hand across his jawline. His dimple appears as I slowly drag my fingertips across his lips.
Things have been so hectic since we left Greece. Hell, even before that. But right now, I could get lost in those brown eyes and beautiful lips.
“Keep doing that and I won’t want to leave, you know,” Blake whispers, his voice full of gravel.
“There are worse things,” I purr, staring into his eyes and matching the intensity.
He clears his throat, closing the distance between us. The warmth of his hands makes me shudder as he places them on my upper arms. I could get lost in his touch, in his clean smell of aftershave and cologne.
Who needs food?
I drop my hand to the top button of his shirt and tug him in closer. Sparks fly as our lips touch, igniting the passion between us that’s been simmering under the surface for far too long.
Blake groans, planting his hands against my lower back and pressing my body against his.
Desire erupts through me and all intention of leaving the house escapes my mind. Instead, all I can think about is his touch and how desperately I’ve missed it. And how much I want more of it.
Suddenly, my stomach growls traitorously. Not just any kind of growl, either. The kind that reminds me I’ve had such an intense day, I didn’t even stop to eat lunch.
Blake laughs softly, breaking our kiss to rest his forehead against mine. “Onward?”
I groan. “Do we have to?”
“I think your stomach says yes,” he says, holding out an elbow.
I loop my arm through his, irritated at my stomach for not being as impervious as the rest of me. “All right, let’s do this, then.”
Blake’s smile is infectious as he leads me toward the front door.
Suddenly, an extreme feeling of dread reaches me and I stop in my tracks. “Oh, no…”
Blake’s eyebrows furrow with a silent question. He doesn’t have to wait long for the answer.
A loud thudding echoes through the house as Detective Radovich knocks on the door. Something has gone terribly wrong with Jonas Fletcher and Dan’s here to take me with him.
12
Detour
The entire mood evaporates in an instant and I don’t have to be a psychic to know it’s not likely to come back tonight.
“Dammit,” I mutter, dropping my arm from Blake. I take a step out in front and open the front door.
Dan stands there, his hand in his blond hair, making it stick up in various directions. He’s dressed in his ordinary street clothes, jeans, and a t-shirt—nothing like his daytime detective wardrobe.
“Thank god you’re here. We’ve got a problem,” Dan says, walking forward into the small entryway. He catches a glimpse of Blake, then notices my outfit. “Oh shit, were you going out?”
I swing the front door closed behind him. “Yeah, actually.”
He stands there for a moment with an uncomfortable look on his face as he crams his hands into his pockets. His mind flits through thoughts so fast, I can’t seem to cling onto a single one long enough to know what this is fully about.
I clear my throat and step between the two men. Introductions are in order if we’re going to get anywhere. “Dan, this is Blake. Blake, Dan.” I motion to each, so they can try to get over whatever socially awkward vibes are lingering predominant in the air.
Blake’s the first to crack, stepping forward and extending his hand. “Hey, nice to meet you. Blake Wilson.”
Dan shakes his hand and says, “Dan Radovich, Helena PD.”
“Ah,” Blake says, tipping his head in acknowledgment.
I shoot him a sideways glance, knowing full-well what he thinks of the cops in this town. Then, I return a pointed stare to Dan. “What do you need, Dan?”
“Okay, look,” he exhales a quick breath and runs his right hand along the back of his neck. “I need your help right now. I wish I could say it would be quick, but I can’t make any promises. I honestly don’t know what I’m up against.”
“What’s going on?” Blake asks, his dark eyebrows tugging down as his interest is piqued.
Dan gives me a quick glance and his mind is just short of begging me to allow him to speak freely or excuse myself so we can talk in private.
I nod. “It’s okay. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of him.”
“Okay, cool.” Glancing at Blake, then back to me, Dan continues, “I went over to check on Jonas Fletcher a few minutes ago and see if we could set up a time for you to meet with his family. When I got there, everyone was in hysterics. Someone had hacked into the kid’s laptop and sent a threatening message to him. I feel like we better get a handle on this situation. Fast.”
“What did the message say?” Blake asks before I can get the words out myself.
Blake knows nothing about this case. I haven’t had the chance to fill him in about Jonas—but none of that matters. Knowing someone could be in danger is all he needs to start hunting for his own set of clues.
My lips slide into a lopsided grin.
Dan’s forehead creases as he assesses Blake. “Uh…”
“It’s okay, Dan. Blake is the PI I was working with last month,” I say, knowing that should put Dan’s mind at ease. “He might
be able to help.”
“Ah, that explains the comment earlier,” he says, nodding to himself. After a moment of contemplation, he continues, “All right. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have another set of ears and eyes on this one. If Diana trusts you, then so do I.”
“I appreciate that,” Blake says, his expression stern and expectant.
“The message said, ‘We know what you’ve done and we expect you to comply.’”
Blake narrows his eyes. “Sounds like kids trying to get under this Jonas’s skin. How old is he?”
“He’s fourteen, but I don’t think that’s what this is. At least, it’s not the vibe I’m getting,” I say, tilting my head to the side as I try to sense the intention behind the message.
Unfortunately, the moment I think I may have something, the sensation or vibration of it slips away like a dream the moment you wake up. A strange fog settles around everything the more I concentrate.
“Hmmm…” I mutter, trying harder to focus.
“Diana’s right. There’s more going on here than just kids playing a prank. I think Diana needs to meet Jonas now in order to do her thing. I could fill you both in more on the way there if you’d be willing to postpone going out,” Dan says, scrunching up his face.
I know he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t feel there was no other option.
Turning to Blake I know I don’t even have to ask. The moment he heard fourteen-year-old boy, he was ready to roll out. But I say the words anyway.
“What do you think?”
“Better get changed,” he says with a sigh.
I reach out, grabbing hold of his hand. “I promise, I’ll make this up to you.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he says, his dimple almost making an appearance.
Turning on my heel, which isn’t easy in these shoes, I stalk back to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. My standard ripped-up jeans, combat boots, and zombie unicorn t-shirt will do just fine. It has just the right balance between sardonic and ironic that might put a fourteen-year-old at ease. Or it could freak him out even more.
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